Saturday morning couldn't come soon enough. Beth was already exercised, breakfasted and ready to shop. She had just reached the entrance to the mall some fifteen minutes away when the car in front of her stopped at the sign. Beth turned her wheel to the right realizing the driver had a prolonged stop. Just then the driver pulled his Honda in front of hers. Blocking her.
Beth's heart began to beat. Loud. The vibration was making it difficult for her to focus. She needed to focus now.
She backed up and the Honda spun around blocking her again. She reached for her cell phone and called the police. They were in the mall. But no one answered the phone.
Finally, she freed herself from this driver in the dark grey car. Rounded the bevy of trees she nearly collided with the Honda. Then he proceeded to cut her off as much as she could.
Beth's heart raced. She had no time to relax herself. Her adrenaline was pumping. A few S-turns and she ran her car beside along the curb to the police station inside the mall. An reluctant, overweight officer followed her to her car. She told him the story of her recent terror along the way.
"You know you are blocking a fire zone."
Enough of this she though. She got back into her car. She called the police departnment in her town. They reluctantly agreed to meet her on the boundary of Lawrence and West Windsor Township. He exscorted her to the safety of her garage.
She opened the door and saw George's car. Home. Very unusual.
"Honey, you won't believe what happened to me, " she said.
George was fixing some plumbing. He didn't stop. Wouldn't.
It would be a few more years until Beth terminated that marriage. And many more until she wondered.
Did George pay this guy to terrorize her?
Monday, December 10, 2012
Friday, December 7, 2012
Conflict Of Interest
His dark, wavy hair and six foot frame said it all. Soft words, a muscular body, Michelangelo' s David. Giovanni made a first impression. He was just too nice.
An oversize round table, two musty camper chairs and a 1970 tv were soon in Beth's new apartment. There wasn't anything else but a blow up mattress her children had lent her in there. It would be a long time until the furniture arrived.
Knowing no one else had a key, Beth spoke with Giovanni.
"Did you drop these off?"
"Yes, you didn't have anything."
"Well, thank you," she said in shock.
That moment would change how she saw him. He was more than cool. Always available to the female residents. Cordial to the male ones. They didn't much like him. Beth wondered.
He'd disappear for hours. The property manager often had to reach him by phone. She knew. He was rarely home. rarely with his second wife. Often doing private jobs, often servicing the older clients at the apartment complex where he held a full time handyman job. He'd provide service at $25 an hour. Beth didn't understand the full meaning of 'servicing.' Until.
"C'mon, he's the pool boy," Robbie said.
"Everyone knows about him. Erstwhile mechanic. Major conflict of interest. There is no $25 fee schedule. He charges what he wants. Depends how you pay up."
Beth became more uneasy.
Pool boy? No wonder!
The Italian mafia. Owners, management, workers. All smokers. Working hard. Against one another. Skimming in ways no one would believe. The Property Manager knew. She was in on it, too. The owner would be in time. The Property Manager was fired once before the new owners came on. The new management hired her back. She stayed in her office.
"Yea, he gives you a cheap price for starters. Does a few freebies. If you are cute, you can work it off in trade" said Robbie.
More drama than she cared to be involved. She closed her ears.
He was doing the second floor a neighbor said. Just then, no tools, on the clock she saw him. Again Walking out of the apartment of a wealthy seventy-five year old widowed woman. Eating an apple. More than relaxed.
"Everyone gives him a Christmas present. A lot of money," the Bostonian octogenarian said with a wink.
Beth remembered the last time he was in her apartment. He sat down on the sofa. Leg crossed. Waiting. Then she got an exhorbitant bill for a small job. She figured him out. the pool boy.
There wouldn't be another time.
An oversize round table, two musty camper chairs and a 1970 tv were soon in Beth's new apartment. There wasn't anything else but a blow up mattress her children had lent her in there. It would be a long time until the furniture arrived.
Knowing no one else had a key, Beth spoke with Giovanni.
"Did you drop these off?"
"Yes, you didn't have anything."
"Well, thank you," she said in shock.
That moment would change how she saw him. He was more than cool. Always available to the female residents. Cordial to the male ones. They didn't much like him. Beth wondered.
He'd disappear for hours. The property manager often had to reach him by phone. She knew. He was rarely home. rarely with his second wife. Often doing private jobs, often servicing the older clients at the apartment complex where he held a full time handyman job. He'd provide service at $25 an hour. Beth didn't understand the full meaning of 'servicing.' Until.
"C'mon, he's the pool boy," Robbie said.
"Everyone knows about him. Erstwhile mechanic. Major conflict of interest. There is no $25 fee schedule. He charges what he wants. Depends how you pay up."
Beth became more uneasy.
Pool boy? No wonder!
The Italian mafia. Owners, management, workers. All smokers. Working hard. Against one another. Skimming in ways no one would believe. The Property Manager knew. She was in on it, too. The owner would be in time. The Property Manager was fired once before the new owners came on. The new management hired her back. She stayed in her office.
"Yea, he gives you a cheap price for starters. Does a few freebies. If you are cute, you can work it off in trade" said Robbie.
More drama than she cared to be involved. She closed her ears.
He was doing the second floor a neighbor said. Just then, no tools, on the clock she saw him. Again Walking out of the apartment of a wealthy seventy-five year old widowed woman. Eating an apple. More than relaxed.
"Everyone gives him a Christmas present. A lot of money," the Bostonian octogenarian said with a wink.
Beth remembered the last time he was in her apartment. He sat down on the sofa. Leg crossed. Waiting. Then she got an exhorbitant bill for a small job. She figured him out. the pool boy.
There wouldn't be another time.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Addicts
Wyatt always had beer in his hand. If it wasn't a can of lager, it was a cigarette.
"Well, I don't smoke in the house. Cept the bathroom."
I could hear the slider open. Walking as quickly as not to be obvious, far away from Wyatt, my inner guidance system was on full alert.
And it wasn't just his sexual comments made in a group setting. Wyatt wasn't able to filter. Period. He thought it was cool. Even joked that he needed 'fixin.'
Beth wasn't about to fix anyone. It wasn't her job. She would, however, observe.
Outside a half a dozen times walking the canines, the interaction became obvious. The ole biddies even began to stare. With nothing in their life but pills and a visit with a physician, anything, absolutely anything was fodder for them. Include a man on the prowl. A predator.
You don't make it past your teens without observing predator behavior. Those addicted kinds of people who can't get past themselves. They live out of a package ~ cigarettes, booze, pills. They feed on drama. Just look at who is in their lives. Who repeatedly appears. Same ole personalities. They're addicted as much as the predator though they, too, wouldn't admit it.
Their addictions are observable in their sexual behavior. Positioning themselves about to pounce, I could hardly keep from laughing.
Beth was more than ready to play with him. Expose him. Stand true to herself. And she did.
Wyatt overheard that Beth was looking for a particular town.
"I can show it to you," he would say for months.
Of course, he would never show it to her. He didn't have the courage. He knew she was out of his reach. Permanently.
"Ya know, I had me a stent put in last year. Nearly died," he said puffing away.
Beth was silent. But her mind was in more than disgust. It was then that she called me.
"So what do you think?"
"Hon, if you have to ask you deserve him."
"Well, I don't smoke in the house. Cept the bathroom."
I could hear the slider open. Walking as quickly as not to be obvious, far away from Wyatt, my inner guidance system was on full alert.
And it wasn't just his sexual comments made in a group setting. Wyatt wasn't able to filter. Period. He thought it was cool. Even joked that he needed 'fixin.'
Beth wasn't about to fix anyone. It wasn't her job. She would, however, observe.
Outside a half a dozen times walking the canines, the interaction became obvious. The ole biddies even began to stare. With nothing in their life but pills and a visit with a physician, anything, absolutely anything was fodder for them. Include a man on the prowl. A predator.
You don't make it past your teens without observing predator behavior. Those addicted kinds of people who can't get past themselves. They live out of a package ~ cigarettes, booze, pills. They feed on drama. Just look at who is in their lives. Who repeatedly appears. Same ole personalities. They're addicted as much as the predator though they, too, wouldn't admit it.
Their addictions are observable in their sexual behavior. Positioning themselves about to pounce, I could hardly keep from laughing.
Beth was more than ready to play with him. Expose him. Stand true to herself. And she did.
Wyatt overheard that Beth was looking for a particular town.
"I can show it to you," he would say for months.
Of course, he would never show it to her. He didn't have the courage. He knew she was out of his reach. Permanently.
"Ya know, I had me a stent put in last year. Nearly died," he said puffing away.
Beth was silent. But her mind was in more than disgust. It was then that she called me.
"So what do you think?"
"Hon, if you have to ask you deserve him."
Color!
There seems to be a post of a similar name in the past. Oh well. I love color so I can blog and blog about it. Color makes me happy. Vibrant colors especially. Natural colors are nice, too.
Recently I purchased an LG flat screen tv. I've waited a long time. Don't you think?! Now stop laffin especially if you know me. I don't waste resources if I can avoid it.
I love watching anything on it. It reminds me of the 1960s when my neighbor, Judy Frampton, and her family got the first color tv in my neighborhood. I longed to see what it looked like in someone's house. Years later, my family got one. It was worth the wait.
So now I have some new technology. A smart tv. I still have one more thing to synchronize. And I'll admit to be a bit nervous about messing up the existing technology. It hasn't been hard to do but I have never felt especially adept at technology. Interestingly enough, I love technology!
This will probably be the last thing I buy tech-wise. I'm not much for silly charges for silly things I don't need in the silly first place anyway. I might just miss the moment glued to it if I do.
Color. Wow, oh wow, oh wow.
Recently I purchased an LG flat screen tv. I've waited a long time. Don't you think?! Now stop laffin especially if you know me. I don't waste resources if I can avoid it.
I love watching anything on it. It reminds me of the 1960s when my neighbor, Judy Frampton, and her family got the first color tv in my neighborhood. I longed to see what it looked like in someone's house. Years later, my family got one. It was worth the wait.
So now I have some new technology. A smart tv. I still have one more thing to synchronize. And I'll admit to be a bit nervous about messing up the existing technology. It hasn't been hard to do but I have never felt especially adept at technology. Interestingly enough, I love technology!
This will probably be the last thing I buy tech-wise. I'm not much for silly charges for silly things I don't need in the silly first place anyway. I might just miss the moment glued to it if I do.
Color. Wow, oh wow, oh wow.
Online Dating
That's a good name for it. Because you never really 'date.' Chances are you won't get much of a response. These companies put on bogus people as long as they pay for the service. I suspect they get removed if they or someone else get caught. So much for their filters.
This blogger is sick of all the misfits out there. In my building alone, we have alcoholics, smokers, addictions of most kinds. This is America in Miniature. I don't plan to be here long.
My karma is set. My face is full of smiles. But not for the misfits. Just stay the H away from moi. Seriously. Pffft!
I tested a theory for the past five plus months. My gut always tells the truth. I won't doubt it again. Ever.
Nor will I try online dating. It's a scam. There are a few lucky ones, but my time isn't worth the risk of misfits.
This blogger is sick of all the misfits out there. In my building alone, we have alcoholics, smokers, addictions of most kinds. This is America in Miniature. I don't plan to be here long.
My karma is set. My face is full of smiles. But not for the misfits. Just stay the H away from moi. Seriously. Pffft!
I tested a theory for the past five plus months. My gut always tells the truth. I won't doubt it again. Ever.
Nor will I try online dating. It's a scam. There are a few lucky ones, but my time isn't worth the risk of misfits.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
No Trumping
No trumping!
That's it. Easy as it sounds. I am not for conquering, but I am for loving.
What is it about these men with their sexual innuendos, old lines, fear of intimacy. The greatest fear of all. Of intimacy. Afraid other's will find out who they are. So afraid they can't get emotionally close. How sad is that?!
Remembering a few of these people along the way. Men and women. Neither can come clean. They buy into what the media spews. After a time they have no clue who they are. So they think (actually they do not think - that is the problem) they follow the herd mentality. They follow the same ole clever lines used before. They think they are cool. Like a cool cigarette and a leather jack. A Harley.
Uh un. Nope. Not cool. More like sheeple. They don't ask a potential partner out. They want it all for free. Well, peeps the time draws closer. December 21st. A time to reconcile. Check your horoscope. No doubt it reinforces it. Mine does.
Listen to your inner guidance system. Don't give yourself away. Again.
No trumping!
That's it. Easy as it sounds. I am not for conquering, but I am for loving.
What is it about these men with their sexual innuendos, old lines, fear of intimacy. The greatest fear of all. Of intimacy. Afraid other's will find out who they are. So afraid they can't get emotionally close. How sad is that?!
Remembering a few of these people along the way. Men and women. Neither can come clean. They buy into what the media spews. After a time they have no clue who they are. So they think (actually they do not think - that is the problem) they follow the herd mentality. They follow the same ole clever lines used before. They think they are cool. Like a cool cigarette and a leather jack. A Harley.
Uh un. Nope. Not cool. More like sheeple. They don't ask a potential partner out. They want it all for free. Well, peeps the time draws closer. December 21st. A time to reconcile. Check your horoscope. No doubt it reinforces it. Mine does.
Listen to your inner guidance system. Don't give yourself away. Again.
No trumping!
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
The Home
Beth knew she moved in too early. But it was the only decent apartment complex around. The underground parking sold her on it. New England winters can be rough. Not having to shovel snow or clean off the car was inticing. But, she didn't know what she would get herself into. Until.
Fats and Nosy could always be found on the gazebo in "their" chairs. They even had one for their dog. They were more than anxious to delve into anyone's personal life. Beth didn't know that then. She was a private person. Preferring very small groups and definitely not comfortable in a gossip circle.
"Nope, not for me. Never has been. It always turns mean."
After listening to so much needless gossip she decided to find out just who the culprits were. Management? The Home residents? Or both?
So, she decided to spread a few rumors. Give it a week or so to see what came back to her. The management told things they definitely should not have. She wondered what they said about her. She hoped it was good.
The rumors were about the single men. Beth was still single. She knew it would work.
While in the hall, she was chatting with one man. Management called him into the office. Beth wondered if the resident would be spanked. Only last week she had asked if the man had a roommate. Management assured her two names were on one lease. The man said otherwise.
She felt that the man was being told she had inquired about his 'living arrangement.' Now if the man came out from the management office and left quickly, she would know. If not, management didn't drop the dime. After all, she and the man had been in a deep discussion, something the man wanted to share with her. He wasn't finished the conversation.
The man wouldn't even look at Beth.
"Okay, got to get ready for work," he said.
He still had four hours to go before he had to leave. Beth knew his schedule like clockwork.
She decided to have even more fun. She would draw the man in further.
"Pop outside, I have a question for you?"
The man was only to eager to find out what was going on. He looked edgy.
"Do you think you can trust her, that woman in management?"
"Yes, I think so," said the man.
It was only the other day he said otherwise.
Now Beth knew. She would set up the next scene. She couldn't wait.
Fats and Nosy could always be found on the gazebo in "their" chairs. They even had one for their dog. They were more than anxious to delve into anyone's personal life. Beth didn't know that then. She was a private person. Preferring very small groups and definitely not comfortable in a gossip circle.
"Nope, not for me. Never has been. It always turns mean."
After listening to so much needless gossip she decided to find out just who the culprits were. Management? The Home residents? Or both?
So, she decided to spread a few rumors. Give it a week or so to see what came back to her. The management told things they definitely should not have. She wondered what they said about her. She hoped it was good.
The rumors were about the single men. Beth was still single. She knew it would work.
While in the hall, she was chatting with one man. Management called him into the office. Beth wondered if the resident would be spanked. Only last week she had asked if the man had a roommate. Management assured her two names were on one lease. The man said otherwise.
She felt that the man was being told she had inquired about his 'living arrangement.' Now if the man came out from the management office and left quickly, she would know. If not, management didn't drop the dime. After all, she and the man had been in a deep discussion, something the man wanted to share with her. He wasn't finished the conversation.
The man wouldn't even look at Beth.
"Okay, got to get ready for work," he said.
He still had four hours to go before he had to leave. Beth knew his schedule like clockwork.
She decided to have even more fun. She would draw the man in further.
"Pop outside, I have a question for you?"
The man was only to eager to find out what was going on. He looked edgy.
"Do you think you can trust her, that woman in management?"
"Yes, I think so," said the man.
It was only the other day he said otherwise.
Now Beth knew. She would set up the next scene. She couldn't wait.
Monday, November 26, 2012
The Community Room
"She what?"
"OMG!"
"Well, they all have a part in this, ya know. Nosy, Mouthy, Angry."
They feed on one another's chemistry. They all want to be in charge. Nose and Mouthy would do anything for you. Angry would, if it didn't interfer in his day. Chemistry does that. Of course, most drones do not know that. They do, think what they have been taught. Like all of us. That is, until the door opens slightly. They see the light. Like Plato's Parable Of The Cave. The age old question. Is it better to be in the dark?
Now we each have to decide whether we are fully ready for the light. It isn't a judgment. It is more of a time table. We progress, regress, time out, progress. You get the idea. I've been in the time out, regression mode lately myself. I think Beth would agree.
"The thing that gets me is that the drama queen doesn't even live here," said Beth.
Her male friend says she doesn't, she says she does. Their stories differ on everything. Someone isn't telling the truth here. But does it matter. Not one single bit. It makes for interesting fodder, though.
Truth is apparently subjective. The common denominator here is self-righteousness. They are as self-righteous as hell for the most part. Others come and go. They can't stand the stuckness. But they do miss the gossip. I have to laugh because most of us do, too. Be honest now. Do you?
First it was the missing newspaper. Then the missing figurine. Then lawyer who surrendered his license mysteriously who helps everyone. The two obese married people one of whom, Nosy. Mouthy is single, too. They spy and report people. They will also help you if you need it. They just want to be needed and in charge. Mouthy is hard to take any time unless you can suffer through her shrill voice. She is an in-yer-face Liza Doolittle before the adjustment. And smart.
Then there is the former tenant found sleeping in the bathrooms at night. When she was outed, I found her in her car one morning. I thought she was sick. She asked me not to out her. Then it was the old Mercedes conveniently parked here night after night. The Property Manager refused to call the police on the individual. She didn't much like her job. Did the bare minimum. Smokes like a factory. Intense. I liked her immediately. She is a dowser so there is some kind of energy in her. She is afraid to say. Anything. Keeps to herself. Doesn't trust a soul. Something is up. She won't be here long.
Then it was the parade of single men. Desperate, lonely, poor social skills, obvious. Dwellers. Little to offer. Giving me more than indigestion. I have lots of ginger tea in the pantry now. The drama queen's male friend is one of them. So is the Addictor.
But these people aren't less lonely than the 90 percent who don't frequent the Community Room. They have just built up a chemistry that pulls them in. It is more than fascinating.
It is The Community Room. At night.
"OMG!"
"Well, they all have a part in this, ya know. Nosy, Mouthy, Angry."
They feed on one another's chemistry. They all want to be in charge. Nose and Mouthy would do anything for you. Angry would, if it didn't interfer in his day. Chemistry does that. Of course, most drones do not know that. They do, think what they have been taught. Like all of us. That is, until the door opens slightly. They see the light. Like Plato's Parable Of The Cave. The age old question. Is it better to be in the dark?
Now we each have to decide whether we are fully ready for the light. It isn't a judgment. It is more of a time table. We progress, regress, time out, progress. You get the idea. I've been in the time out, regression mode lately myself. I think Beth would agree.
"The thing that gets me is that the drama queen doesn't even live here," said Beth.
Her male friend says she doesn't, she says she does. Their stories differ on everything. Someone isn't telling the truth here. But does it matter. Not one single bit. It makes for interesting fodder, though.
Truth is apparently subjective. The common denominator here is self-righteousness. They are as self-righteous as hell for the most part. Others come and go. They can't stand the stuckness. But they do miss the gossip. I have to laugh because most of us do, too. Be honest now. Do you?
First it was the missing newspaper. Then the missing figurine. Then lawyer who surrendered his license mysteriously who helps everyone. The two obese married people one of whom, Nosy. Mouthy is single, too. They spy and report people. They will also help you if you need it. They just want to be needed and in charge. Mouthy is hard to take any time unless you can suffer through her shrill voice. She is an in-yer-face Liza Doolittle before the adjustment. And smart.
Then there is the former tenant found sleeping in the bathrooms at night. When she was outed, I found her in her car one morning. I thought she was sick. She asked me not to out her. Then it was the old Mercedes conveniently parked here night after night. The Property Manager refused to call the police on the individual. She didn't much like her job. Did the bare minimum. Smokes like a factory. Intense. I liked her immediately. She is a dowser so there is some kind of energy in her. She is afraid to say. Anything. Keeps to herself. Doesn't trust a soul. Something is up. She won't be here long.
Then it was the parade of single men. Desperate, lonely, poor social skills, obvious. Dwellers. Little to offer. Giving me more than indigestion. I have lots of ginger tea in the pantry now. The drama queen's male friend is one of them. So is the Addictor.
But these people aren't less lonely than the 90 percent who don't frequent the Community Room. They have just built up a chemistry that pulls them in. It is more than fascinating.
It is The Community Room. At night.
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Storylines and Truth
Going to the movies used to be the best. Until the staff starting the illegal searches. They want everyone sick. I checked out a new theatre which according to the manager only did searches IF someone looked like they were carrying lots of food for a large family.
I watched the marvelous film, The Life of Pi. All the way home, I kept thinking about the story lines we tell. Even after all these years, I am still coming to terms with what happened.
Sometimes the pain of an event, many events, is just too difficult to handle. Even though I believe people become amnesiacs because they can not handle the truth given the emotional state they are in, when this happened to me, I went into denial, then blocked out years of my life.
I'm not going into what happened, no one needs to know but me. What I will say is that seeing this film today, alone, because the universe wanted it that way, opened up a trunk load of memories. It also opened and moved me forward because when we are ready to tell the truth about what happened, only then, can we heal.
I believe the universe presents a variety of obstacles and experiences we need. Otherwise, we would not be having them. I can't explain all of them but there are a few I can.
This is a precious time in which we are living. So much is being revealed. I am more than ready. I hope you are as well.
I watched the marvelous film, The Life of Pi. All the way home, I kept thinking about the story lines we tell. Even after all these years, I am still coming to terms with what happened.
Sometimes the pain of an event, many events, is just too difficult to handle. Even though I believe people become amnesiacs because they can not handle the truth given the emotional state they are in, when this happened to me, I went into denial, then blocked out years of my life.
I'm not going into what happened, no one needs to know but me. What I will say is that seeing this film today, alone, because the universe wanted it that way, opened up a trunk load of memories. It also opened and moved me forward because when we are ready to tell the truth about what happened, only then, can we heal.
I believe the universe presents a variety of obstacles and experiences we need. Otherwise, we would not be having them. I can't explain all of them but there are a few I can.
This is a precious time in which we are living. So much is being revealed. I am more than ready. I hope you are as well.
Friday, November 23, 2012
What If
What if the world in which you were societalized was a mere Truman Show? Everything, well most everything you have been taught was a form of brain washing. Now that you are squirming in your seat, feeling uneasy, you want to leave. This is just too, too close. You don't want to get out of your comfort zone.
For starters, you have been programmed. Educated by what THEY want you to know. Your education has been pointedly limited. You are a drone. Worker bee. You could be dangerous with a little knowledge. About what THEY are really doing.
Come on. You've been funding them for years. Taxes they call them. Ransom! Tell me when this has been a government of the people? Not in my lifetime. I suspect not in yours as well.
Did you really believe the founding fathers had your best interest at heart? Consider them. We any of them 'of the people'? Were they all aristocratic types, wealthy, owned slaves?
Now we have segued to the government of the corporations. The Supreme Court reminds us that corporations have personhood. In some societies, nature has personhood. But not the recessive United States. Money matters. People don't.
End of comment.
For starters, you have been programmed. Educated by what THEY want you to know. Your education has been pointedly limited. You are a drone. Worker bee. You could be dangerous with a little knowledge. About what THEY are really doing.
Come on. You've been funding them for years. Taxes they call them. Ransom! Tell me when this has been a government of the people? Not in my lifetime. I suspect not in yours as well.
Did you really believe the founding fathers had your best interest at heart? Consider them. We any of them 'of the people'? Were they all aristocratic types, wealthy, owned slaves?
Now we have segued to the government of the corporations. The Supreme Court reminds us that corporations have personhood. In some societies, nature has personhood. But not the recessive United States. Money matters. People don't.
End of comment.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Tex
Early on, Beth suspected something that just didn't seem right. You know, that little voice in the back of your head that says something is amiss, disjointed, dangerous. She wish she had listened.
At first, he was friendly, kind, compassionate. He was also quiet, distant and at times seemed a little drunk. It wasn't just the rolling of the tongue, it was more.
He'd been through a couple of marriages. More than smart, licensed to fly helicopters, Cessna's commercial, only. Everything she liked, he liked as well. But he was a smoker. Liked to drink, too. He made Beth the strongest Marguerita on the planet. And that was after she split the Marguerita with two friends and had a third of the mixture he had prepared for her. Out on the terrace. Under the gazebo.
Nearly ever time she would be outside, this neighbor would be on his deck. She dreaded the sound of the slider. His focused eyes always followed her.
Then she started seeing him in the halls, morning, noon and night. Her evening stroll to pick up the mail almost always guaranteed she would run into Tex. Long, tall and lanky. He's left the hat in Texas but not the tees. He must own fifty of them.
"Everything's better in Texas."
It wasn't until he mentioned his latest divorce. Number two out of two. He wanted the first divorce; an intolerable woman. His daughter reinforced that. Divorce number two was his wife's doing. She said it was a co-dependency thing. Beth had seen that before.
She had met another man of the co-dependent style. Had no personality of his own. Even followed her around the store. He was more than a pest. He was annoying! His identity, sadly was wrapped around every single woman he met. He would take nearly anyone not to be alone. He had no hobbies, no interests that she could tell.
Tex could have been his brother. That is, until the stalking began. Beth knew it was time to end whatever he was anticipating.
At first, he was friendly, kind, compassionate. He was also quiet, distant and at times seemed a little drunk. It wasn't just the rolling of the tongue, it was more.
He'd been through a couple of marriages. More than smart, licensed to fly helicopters, Cessna's commercial, only. Everything she liked, he liked as well. But he was a smoker. Liked to drink, too. He made Beth the strongest Marguerita on the planet. And that was after she split the Marguerita with two friends and had a third of the mixture he had prepared for her. Out on the terrace. Under the gazebo.
Nearly ever time she would be outside, this neighbor would be on his deck. She dreaded the sound of the slider. His focused eyes always followed her.
Then she started seeing him in the halls, morning, noon and night. Her evening stroll to pick up the mail almost always guaranteed she would run into Tex. Long, tall and lanky. He's left the hat in Texas but not the tees. He must own fifty of them.
"Everything's better in Texas."
It wasn't until he mentioned his latest divorce. Number two out of two. He wanted the first divorce; an intolerable woman. His daughter reinforced that. Divorce number two was his wife's doing. She said it was a co-dependency thing. Beth had seen that before.
She had met another man of the co-dependent style. Had no personality of his own. Even followed her around the store. He was more than a pest. He was annoying! His identity, sadly was wrapped around every single woman he met. He would take nearly anyone not to be alone. He had no hobbies, no interests that she could tell.
Tex could have been his brother. That is, until the stalking began. Beth knew it was time to end whatever he was anticipating.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Sunshine
There is a darkness looming. It goes deeper than most can imagine. The American taxpayer gets the bill. As always. They write about it, make movies about it. It goes on for years. Busy. Busy.
The national debt goes higher. It is like a plague. I can't shake it. It is bigger than I. I want to escape. Create the world where people see one another's essence not their political party, their sexuality, their colors, height or societal beauty. We see friends. Love. Similarities.
This white noise never stops. Since the beginning of this month, I have tinnitus. I can't quiet it any more. I never did a good job of that in the first place. A constant, continual reminder. It could be a whole lot worse.
It is the constant chatter, the storyline that plays in our heads. 24-7. I couldn't have asked for a better reminder. It reminds me that darkness is looming everywhere. Not just in the United States Government, but in the corporations supported by our government. Individual and collective greed, power, lust for the dollar. I don't get it.
But. The clock is ticking. It isn't how I want to spend my life. Far too much time has been wasted. Meaningless thoughts that plague the collective soul. We take it. We are angry. We do nothing.
The light inches its way on the horizon. Hope is within reach. I go inside. It is quiet there. I've missed that. My own personal meditation retreat. At home.
Sunshine awaits.
The national debt goes higher. It is like a plague. I can't shake it. It is bigger than I. I want to escape. Create the world where people see one another's essence not their political party, their sexuality, their colors, height or societal beauty. We see friends. Love. Similarities.
This white noise never stops. Since the beginning of this month, I have tinnitus. I can't quiet it any more. I never did a good job of that in the first place. A constant, continual reminder. It could be a whole lot worse.
It is the constant chatter, the storyline that plays in our heads. 24-7. I couldn't have asked for a better reminder. It reminds me that darkness is looming everywhere. Not just in the United States Government, but in the corporations supported by our government. Individual and collective greed, power, lust for the dollar. I don't get it.
But. The clock is ticking. It isn't how I want to spend my life. Far too much time has been wasted. Meaningless thoughts that plague the collective soul. We take it. We are angry. We do nothing.
The light inches its way on the horizon. Hope is within reach. I go inside. It is quiet there. I've missed that. My own personal meditation retreat. At home.
Sunshine awaits.
Friday, November 9, 2012
Fantasyland: No Rules, Constraints or Restrictions
She was always the daughter who listens. Mom wasn't know for her happiness. Nor was she know for the lack of filter between her mouth and brain. Opinionated. Her words were piercing. Especially to a sensitive Scorpio. But there was a lot she liked about her. That was where she preferred to be. In the liking place. So that is where she went for much of her life.
Fantasyland. It's a good place. Why not stay there? Especially if you truly believe the gobbledygook that goes through the average human mind about others. They say our thoughts are repetitive ones. That 95% of what we are thinking today we thought yesterday. Can we be dullards? The mirror is close.
Beth has a friend she can say anything to. And she sure isn't one to do that. But honesty comes with age. She could never tell her family what she really thinks. Half would admonish her for saying that in the first place. They wouldn't want to hear. It might upset their world. Of course, they wouldn't hesitate sharing their honesty with her. A double standard.
The other half...well, they just don't get it. A recent conversation with a family member was that there was no depression in our parents. Beth wonders if they were raised in the same household? Dad was more than depressed. But you wouldn't know because you escaped. Beth stayed at home. Family mattered. Mom was angry, probably depressed, I mean who wouldn't be with an emotionally and physical unavailable husband? He was never home. Never. You did it all, Mom. You always did. Angry. And more than talented.
Beth thinks about the past. How she got to be who she is. She thinks about the present. Grateful to even things out a bit more. She thinks about the future and it doesn't matter. She likes that the present matters. Lots.
Fantasyland draws closer. There are things she would like. But she is aware of one thing. It won't be found within the context of family. It might be found within the context of friends. That is, if they allow her to be who she is. Still, she would prefer to have it with family. And she wonders why she can't.People are who they are.
"Today is going to be a great day for you, Scorpio. You aren't one to embrace rules, constraints, or restrictions of any kind, preferring instead to reside in a fantasy world where no limitations apply. Have you considered that it's possible for you to join the rest of us here on Earth and still retain your liberty and ideals."
Yup, Beth likes it here. Liberty and ideals. They reside there, too.
Fantasyland. It's a good place. Why not stay there? Especially if you truly believe the gobbledygook that goes through the average human mind about others. They say our thoughts are repetitive ones. That 95% of what we are thinking today we thought yesterday. Can we be dullards? The mirror is close.
Beth has a friend she can say anything to. And she sure isn't one to do that. But honesty comes with age. She could never tell her family what she really thinks. Half would admonish her for saying that in the first place. They wouldn't want to hear. It might upset their world. Of course, they wouldn't hesitate sharing their honesty with her. A double standard.
The other half...well, they just don't get it. A recent conversation with a family member was that there was no depression in our parents. Beth wonders if they were raised in the same household? Dad was more than depressed. But you wouldn't know because you escaped. Beth stayed at home. Family mattered. Mom was angry, probably depressed, I mean who wouldn't be with an emotionally and physical unavailable husband? He was never home. Never. You did it all, Mom. You always did. Angry. And more than talented.
Beth thinks about the past. How she got to be who she is. She thinks about the present. Grateful to even things out a bit more. She thinks about the future and it doesn't matter. She likes that the present matters. Lots.
Fantasyland draws closer. There are things she would like. But she is aware of one thing. It won't be found within the context of family. It might be found within the context of friends. That is, if they allow her to be who she is. Still, she would prefer to have it with family. And she wonders why she can't.People are who they are.
"Today is going to be a great day for you, Scorpio. You aren't one to embrace rules, constraints, or restrictions of any kind, preferring instead to reside in a fantasy world where no limitations apply. Have you considered that it's possible for you to join the rest of us here on Earth and still retain your liberty and ideals."
Yup, Beth likes it here. Liberty and ideals. They reside there, too.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
What Really Happened With Sandy
So what really happened with Hurricane Sandy?
There are several sites on this link. What do you think?
http://weatherwars.info/
There are several sites on this link. What do you think?
http://weatherwars.info/
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Commanders
Moles spend much of their time underground. Digging. Their paws are especially adept at clawing their way through life. They are squatty with underveloped hind legs. Close to the ground.
She was like that. Cubish in stature. Cubish in personality.Even driving a Cube. Always digging. Cherubic little face but claws that could pierce with the slight movement. Always into everything. Everyone's business. A self appointed Chief of Police. Commanding. But I am not so sure who she commands. Definitely the down and out. The elderly, too.
She is partially friendly with Town Crier, another rotund woman. Town Crier has a pitbull appearance. Cockney-like mannerisms. Pygmalion. There is absolutely no filter between her brain and her mouth. She appears to like to help folks in distress. She would even lose her life to safe someone. She is also dogmatic.
Without seeing her, the sounds of her flip flops year round and a heavy walk bespeak her presence. Her British voice always gives her away until she rounds the corner. She likes the remote control in the gathering room and can't turn the volume up loud enough. She is fodder for my blogs. So is Mole.
But Mole isn't nice. She tells the obvious. Always. A woman who feeds your dog bones while insulting the owner. Very Catholic in her upbringing, she is continuing aghast at her ground children. None, interestingly enough, come to visit her. She is married to Jabba, the Hut. More rotund, morbidly obese. He is her parrot. Mynah bird.
It was a short walk to the gathering place to complete this blog. It was also more than quiet. Until Mole entered the room. Without concern for anyone watching the morning news, once again Mole commanded the space. She was speaking about who was breaking the rules again. After delivering the basics, she trudged off to her room by the front door. Slamming the door as always.
Projection can be fun. Especially for the observer.
She was like that. Cubish in stature. Cubish in personality.Even driving a Cube. Always digging. Cherubic little face but claws that could pierce with the slight movement. Always into everything. Everyone's business. A self appointed Chief of Police. Commanding. But I am not so sure who she commands. Definitely the down and out. The elderly, too.
She is partially friendly with Town Crier, another rotund woman. Town Crier has a pitbull appearance. Cockney-like mannerisms. Pygmalion. There is absolutely no filter between her brain and her mouth. She appears to like to help folks in distress. She would even lose her life to safe someone. She is also dogmatic.
Without seeing her, the sounds of her flip flops year round and a heavy walk bespeak her presence. Her British voice always gives her away until she rounds the corner. She likes the remote control in the gathering room and can't turn the volume up loud enough. She is fodder for my blogs. So is Mole.
But Mole isn't nice. She tells the obvious. Always. A woman who feeds your dog bones while insulting the owner. Very Catholic in her upbringing, she is continuing aghast at her ground children. None, interestingly enough, come to visit her. She is married to Jabba, the Hut. More rotund, morbidly obese. He is her parrot. Mynah bird.
It was a short walk to the gathering place to complete this blog. It was also more than quiet. Until Mole entered the room. Without concern for anyone watching the morning news, once again Mole commanded the space. She was speaking about who was breaking the rules again. After delivering the basics, she trudged off to her room by the front door. Slamming the door as always.
Projection can be fun. Especially for the observer.
Monday, October 29, 2012
BINGO
When one thing comes into your thought pattern, you observe it. When two things come into your thought pattern you wonder. When three things come into your thought pattern you take notice.
From: www.skyshipsovercashiers.com:
A former NASA employee who has retired shared this information:
1.
"The Earth’s magnetic field has dropped 40% in the past couple of
years and NASA expects a pole shift between November 2012 and the
spring of 2013.
NASA was moving to Dayton, Ohio.
Gas and oil facilities are primarily located on the coasts and
would be destroyed during the pole shift. He noted there was a
refinery in the mountains of Colorado that would probably survive. It
was added that because of the dams in North Carolina, some power might
sporadically become available.
The pole shift would take about three days and during that time
there would devastating winds.
There is a gag order on NASA employees. They are not to share this
and perhaps other information with anyone beyond their immediate
family members."
2.
HAARP is at its highest frequency in the mid-Atlantic and eastern New
England region.
http://www.haarpstatus.com/
3.
Could this over-hyped Hurricane Sandy be engineered. Why not? Clouds were seeded in China to keep rains away from the Olympics. We do have the technology to do this. Consider this. The 'swing'
states (FL., NC, VA., NH, OH) seem like they are in the direct path of Sandy.
Alex Jones thinks this could be engineered as well:
http://www.infowars.com/the-
We will probably never know what causes a lot of the mysteries in our world. It is important now, especially now...to notice relationships between events that have the potential to control us, to limit our freedoms. And stay away from all this negativity. At the very minimum, our pollution could have brought about these changes, along with natural occurring climatic changes.
For this writer, I shall continue to trust my intuition. It tells the truth.
From: www.skyshipsovercashiers.com:
A former NASA employee who has retired shared this information:
1.
"The Earth’s magnetic field has dropped 40% in the past couple of
years and NASA expects a pole shift between November 2012 and the
spring of 2013.
NASA was moving to Dayton, Ohio.
Gas and oil facilities are primarily located on the coasts and
would be destroyed during the pole shift. He noted there was a
refinery in the mountains of Colorado that would probably survive. It
was added that because of the dams in North Carolina, some power might
sporadically become available.
The pole shift would take about three days and during that time
there would devastating winds.
There is a gag order on NASA employees. They are not to share this
and perhaps other information with anyone beyond their immediate
family members."
2.
HAARP is at its highest frequency in the mid-Atlantic and eastern New
England region.
http://www.haarpstatus.com/
3.
Could this over-hyped Hurricane Sandy be engineered. Why not? Clouds were seeded in China to keep rains away from the Olympics. We do have the technology to do this. Consider this. The 'swing'
states (FL., NC, VA., NH, OH) seem like they are in the direct path of Sandy.
Alex Jones thinks this could be engineered as well:
http://www.infowars.com/the-
We will probably never know what causes a lot of the mysteries in our world. It is important now, especially now...to notice relationships between events that have the potential to control us, to limit our freedoms. And stay away from all this negativity. At the very minimum, our pollution could have brought about these changes, along with natural occurring climatic changes.
For this writer, I shall continue to trust my intuition. It tells the truth.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Keep Out, Keep Out
Stories abound about the removal of the Memorial Bridge in Portsmouth, New Hampshire. Some say the eerie waters of the Piscatagua River are a marine grave. Submarines were repaired nearly. Netting around Peirce Island used to keep Russian Subs away from the Naval Shipyard. The netting is still awkwardly in place.
The arched bridge above carries travelers to and from Maine. Memorial Bridge was just in front of it.
This river cries to be left alone. It didn't didn't the Navy there to begin with. And, it doesn't want more destruction to the marine habitat. This past week, a tug boat capsized trying to remove supports for the removed bridge from under the sea. The bridge was removed this past winter. Please take a look:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUCFfC8CGoE
The seas has a memory. It wants to be left alone. Forever. So it wasn't surprising that the tugboat was claimed. Even when it began to list, no one could save it. A tugboat couldn't upright it. Even divers and salvage crews couldn't surface the boat. More attempts will be made today.
What is most interesting about this process is the energies lying below the river.
KEEP OUT. KEEP OUT.
This river cries to be left alone. It didn't didn't the Navy there to begin with. And, it doesn't want more destruction to the marine habitat. This past week, a tug boat capsized trying to remove supports for the removed bridge from under the sea. The bridge was removed this past winter. Please take a look:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EUCFfC8CGoE
The seas has a memory. It wants to be left alone. Forever. So it wasn't surprising that the tugboat was claimed. Even when it began to list, no one could save it. A tugboat couldn't upright it. Even divers and salvage crews couldn't surface the boat. More attempts will be made today.
What is most interesting about this process is the energies lying below the river.
KEEP OUT. KEEP OUT.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Three Knocks
Three Knocks
She was driving past this old barn when she came upon this:
The envelope he dropped was quickly fingered by what appeared to be an Appalachian Trail through hiker. The hiker was clearly out breath, and at a distance she could see he had on a tattered Arc'teryx shirt, short hiking pants, socks and boots. It appeared that he had not seen a bath or shower in some time. Beth was glad to be standing near the water's edge and not so close to his view shed. The flowers she laid beside a flagged tombstone was also her camouflage. But just as she laid them down, he disappeared down the other side of the hill.
Beth continued to photograph areas sites.
As Beth was packing up the Canon Power Shot SX 30 IS, the man in the Brooks Brothers ensemble returned. This time he was in a vehicle with "The Property of the United States Navy" logo written on the doors. He climbed the slight hill appearing to look down as though he was waiting for someone but didn't want to appear obvious. The Appalachian Trail through hiker moved in. Soon he was in place within a few feet of the naval officer.
It was apparent words were exchanged but never any eye contact. The Naval Officer reached for a small white envelope from inside his pocket. The through hiker took it placing it inside his pocketed tee shirt. Beth dropped to her knees, afraid she may be revealed as she reached for Kleenex from her Baggelini purse to quell her runny nose.
"Beth!" the voice cried out.
She turned her head quickly as three more Naval Officers ran toward her in a soon-to-be-flanking position. She didn't know either of them. Though she had been writing stories like this before. But they had never been a problem. At least not to her knowledge. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she ran toward the Mustang. Beth couldn't get inside the car fast enough.
Doing an S-curve toward the bridge, she saw two more naval vehicles were positioned at and behind the bridge. She couldn't go back because she didn't know what was behind her. She did know her car could spin around them. Perhaps Beth watched too much of the Dukes of Hazard while raising her children. This wasn't the General Lee but it could sure get her to safety. A friend's garage was just a mile down the road and Beth already had her on speakerphone.
"Beth, the door is open, just get in!" she said.
Bo closed the door behind me. She was breathing so hard she could not speak. She was glad there was no light inside the garage to reveal she had just pulled in.
Bo had these people on a high tech GPS and alerted the team to follow them. Just then her cell phone rang and it was Barbara, her high school friend. She had taken early retirement from the FBI and was ready to join us. She had seen enough to last a lifetime. Now she wanted to do something good.
"I'm on my way. I'll be in about midnight. Three taps on your door and you will know it is me."
Monday, October 22, 2012
(Cough) We Care About The Small People
Nuclear weapons go off underground:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEfWw06IO_k
Andromeda Council.
Was the explosion in Virginia, later said to be an 'earthquake' real????
Undersea military bases are being moved. Check it out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcpXKvjElMc&feature=related
http://www.activistpost.com/2011/08/6-strange-anomalies-with-virginia.html
Phil Schneider and government cover-ups. A bit about his alleged 'suicide.'
"
http://www.ufodigest.com/mystery.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DEfWw06IO_k
Andromeda Council.
Was the explosion in Virginia, later said to be an 'earthquake' real????
Undersea military bases are being moved. Check it out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcpXKvjElMc&feature=related
http://www.activistpost.com/2011/08/6-strange-anomalies-with-virginia.html
Phil Schneider and government cover-ups. A bit about his alleged 'suicide.'
"
The Mysterious Life and Death
of Philip Schneider
By Tim Swartz with assistance from Cynthia Drayer
of Philip Schneider
By Tim Swartz with assistance from Cynthia Drayer
Al Pratt suspected something was wrong with his friend Philip Schneider. 
For several days in a row, Al had gone to Phil's apartment, in Willsonville, Oregon, saw his car in the parking lot, but received no answer at the door. Finally, on January 17th, 1996, Al Pratt, along with the manager of the Autumn Park Apartments and a detective from the Clackamas County Sheriff's office entered the apartment. Inside, they found the body of Philip Schneider.
Apparently he had been dead for five to seven days. The Clackamas County Coroner's office initially attributed Philip Schneider's death to a stroke. However, in the following days disturbing details about his death began to surface, leading some
to believe that Philip Schneider had not died from a stroke, but had in fact been murdered.
For several days in a row, Al had gone to Phil's apartment, in Willsonville, Oregon, saw his car in the parking lot, but received no answer at the door. Finally, on January 17th, 1996, Al Pratt, along with the manager of the Autumn Park Apartments and a detective from the Clackamas County Sheriff's office entered the apartment. Inside, they found the body of Philip Schneider.
Apparently he had been dead for five to seven days. The Clackamas County Coroner's office initially attributed Philip Schneider's death to a stroke. However, in the following days disturbing details about his death began to surface, leading some
to believe that Philip Schneider had not died from a stroke, but had in fact been murdered.
Philip Schneider's life was certainly as controversial as his death. He was born on April 23, 1947 at Bethesda Navy Hospital.
Philip's parents were Oscar and Sally Schneider. Oscar Schneider was
a Captain in the United States Navy, worked in nuclear medicine and helped design the first nuclear submarines. Captain Schneider was also part of OPERATION CROSSROADS,
which was responsible for the testing of nuclear weapons in the Pacific
AT Bikini Island. In a lecture videotaped in May 1996, Philip
Schneider claimed that his father, Captain Oscar Schneider, was also
involved with the infamous "Philadelphia Experiment." In addition,
Philip claimed to be an ex-government structural engineer who was involved in building underground military bases (DUMB)
around the country, and to be one of only three people to survive the
1979 incident between the alien Grays and U.S. military forces at the
Dulce underground base. Philip Schneider's ex-wife, Cynthia Drayer
believes that Philip was murdered because he publicly revealed the truth
about the U.S. government's involvement with UFOs."
Source: http://www.ufodigest.com/mystery.html
And more on this:
http://www.ufodigest.com/mystery.html
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Haunted?!
This photograph was taken this morning. Some call it the Alcatraz of the east.
Portsmouth Naval Prison is a former U.S. Navy and Marine Corps prison on the grounds of the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard (PNS) in New Hampshire. The building has the appearance of a castle. The reinforced concrete naval prison was occupied from 1908 until 1974.
Source: Wikipedia
Legend holds that if prisoners escaped during a guard's watch, that guard finished out the prisoner's term in the Portsmouth Naval Prison or as everyone dubs it, The Castle. The prison held both naval and marine corps inmates.
But that wasn't enough to scare Beth. Even the developer, Joseph Sawtelle, who planned to renovate and out lease the building as office units, died inside the prison. He died suddenly inside the prison working while working on renovating it. Locals believe it is haunted. It may be because there is also a nuclear submarine repair base nearby. Some twelve years later, no one has stepped up to continue this work.
A poor audio of the prison and grounds:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjOh8TgIkEU
Beth doesn't expect to be visiting this structure anytime soon. Some say the prison was built of concrete mixed with the Piscataqua's brackish water. This coupled with near constant water seepage into the lower cells, barely heated prison with its resultant dampness caused thousands of inmates to die from exposure.
Even actor, Humphrey Bogart served as a prison guard briefly. He often referred to it in his films. But
local legend reminds everyone to stay away. With its nightmare conditions and atrocities, the ghosts of the former prisoners do not want anyone inside this cannellated prison. Ever.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Help me, Help me
The dreams continued. They didn't make a whole lot of sense until my friend talked about hers.
"Help me, help me," she cried out.
It was faint, as though each breath was labored.
"Do you have dreams like that often?"
"I don't know. Well, sometimes. They go back years. To my childhood."
"What was going on in your life at the time. Do you remember?"
"I remember one thing. Being smothered by someone I was dating," she said.
"But it isn't always about that, at least from what I know."
I wondered about an abduction. She wasn't sure. Though she had have glimpses, memories of a UFO.
"I was all alone. No one would help me. Scared. I kinda think I was abducted but I have to be sure. I don't remember a time not believing in UFOs. More and more people are speaking about their experiences."
She would find a hypnotherapist. And come to the bottom of this.
"Help me, help me," she cried out.
It was faint, as though each breath was labored.
"Do you have dreams like that often?"
"I don't know. Well, sometimes. They go back years. To my childhood."
"What was going on in your life at the time. Do you remember?"
"I remember one thing. Being smothered by someone I was dating," she said.
"But it isn't always about that, at least from what I know."
I wondered about an abduction. She wasn't sure. Though she had have glimpses, memories of a UFO.
"I was all alone. No one would help me. Scared. I kinda think I was abducted but I have to be sure. I don't remember a time not believing in UFOs. More and more people are speaking about their experiences."
She would find a hypnotherapist. And come to the bottom of this.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Sugar Plum
She was the youngest of six. There was lots of vying for attention in her house. Her Dad was a butcher and liked to spent money. He liked the girls, too. Mom stayed home and raised the family; four girls, two boys. The boys died before their fifties. The girls lived into their nineties. When the foursome got together, three of them living a thousand miles from their home in Missouri, it was a cackle of conversation. Four women, all under five feet tall, talking at once, one upping each other. Our Sugar Plum was lost in the crowd. She set it up that way. I don't think she knew it. Mostly.
Family togetherness often left her feeling less than whole. She played the learned helpless role. There was a sort of safety knowing where she was in the pecking order. I often thought had things been different, she could have been so much more. Fulfilled. Peaceful.
Sugar Plum was sweet, round in her later years and often talking about that. Self-effacing, the scapegoat. Her husband often put her down in front of the family and friends. He had his own issues losing his brother. His parents told him they wished he had died instead of the beloved brother. He never felt whole or even close...after that.
That he had a girlfriend didn't help the situation. The family lore was to keep quiet about it. Beth often saw them together. He and the girlfriend. Sugar Plum and he only went to social events together. He lived two lives, one with Sugar Plum, and the other with the other woman. Once he even came on to Beth's Mom. She is still surprised she told me about it.
It was a crab basket in that family. Everyone crawling as quickly as they could to get out from whatever they felt they were stuck in. And, there wasn't much emotional support going on. The sisters did laugh from time to time about the family antics. Especially forty years after the events.
There was the story about the family continually moving when the bills came due. The story became more funny with each passing year. I imagine it wasn't so funny packing up and escaping. But escaping is what they people did.
G was the oldest of the sisters. She and her husband had no children. Couldn't. A crackerjack bridge player. Balanced. R was the social one, the formally educated one, a teacher. She told the rest of the clan that she was smart. Sugar Plum revered her and believed what she was told. The family was know for repeating exactly what was told to them as though it was gospel truth.
"She is the talented one. Draws, paints, speaks languages," Beth often heard.
Her younger sister, J, was the nervous one, though her daughters did not think so at the time. She had the big house in suburbia. Her husband is said to have removed materials from his government job. He was proud to display Uncle Sam's wares in his shop. That he was excellent with tools speaks to his many ways of being clever. A mechanical engineer. He and J were married secretly for ten years. Her parents never liked the man. They were not about to tell them they eloped. In time, they relocated out of state. Eventually, everyone knew the story.
Sugar Plum's husband, a talented and brilliant engineer also, headed the agency J's husband worked for. In fact, he helped him find the position. The agency was only to happy to have a capable man. Sugar Plum was happy to have won her husband. Another part of the family creed. Marry well, look the part. Suck the rest up.
It took Beth years to understand Sugar Plum. That she suffered from self-esteem was an understatement. Her children were continually embarrassed by her, but only too happy to receive the goods she bestowed on them; home down payments, babysitting, college and graduate school tuition, an open heart, and lots of compassion, delivered meals when they were sick.
In so many ways, Sugar Plum was the most successful sister. Not that there is any standard of measurement by which to assess this. Everyone loved her. Her children were embarrassed by her.
By the time Beth realized what was going on, she started a personal mission to help Sugar Plum's esteem. Both women supported one another in the years to come But it wasn't always that way. Sugar Plum wanted her children to marry well. Degrees. Family names. Money. Beth didn't have those kinds of credentials in the dating stage. In years to come, she rang the bell. The only one to attend an Ivy League school. It didn't matter as much for Beth as it did to Sugar Plum. She made sure everyone knew. She also added,
"They must have eased the requirements, Beth being an older student and all."
That was quintessential Sugar Plum. No filters. You knew where you stood with her.
In time, Sugar Plum grew to love Beth. Beth set better parameters for her. Even helped her and her daughter find peace together. When life took Beth in another direction from the family, a phone call to Sugar Plum after a few years of silence said it all.
"Hi, is Sugar Plum around?"
"Hello, is this OUR Beth?"
This ninety something woman called those dear to her 'sugar plum.' In time, the women of the family who had an affinity for her reversed it.
She was OUR Sugar Plum.
Family togetherness often left her feeling less than whole. She played the learned helpless role. There was a sort of safety knowing where she was in the pecking order. I often thought had things been different, she could have been so much more. Fulfilled. Peaceful.
Sugar Plum was sweet, round in her later years and often talking about that. Self-effacing, the scapegoat. Her husband often put her down in front of the family and friends. He had his own issues losing his brother. His parents told him they wished he had died instead of the beloved brother. He never felt whole or even close...after that.
That he had a girlfriend didn't help the situation. The family lore was to keep quiet about it. Beth often saw them together. He and the girlfriend. Sugar Plum and he only went to social events together. He lived two lives, one with Sugar Plum, and the other with the other woman. Once he even came on to Beth's Mom. She is still surprised she told me about it.
It was a crab basket in that family. Everyone crawling as quickly as they could to get out from whatever they felt they were stuck in. And, there wasn't much emotional support going on. The sisters did laugh from time to time about the family antics. Especially forty years after the events.
There was the story about the family continually moving when the bills came due. The story became more funny with each passing year. I imagine it wasn't so funny packing up and escaping. But escaping is what they people did.
G was the oldest of the sisters. She and her husband had no children. Couldn't. A crackerjack bridge player. Balanced. R was the social one, the formally educated one, a teacher. She told the rest of the clan that she was smart. Sugar Plum revered her and believed what she was told. The family was know for repeating exactly what was told to them as though it was gospel truth.
"She is the talented one. Draws, paints, speaks languages," Beth often heard.
Her younger sister, J, was the nervous one, though her daughters did not think so at the time. She had the big house in suburbia. Her husband is said to have removed materials from his government job. He was proud to display Uncle Sam's wares in his shop. That he was excellent with tools speaks to his many ways of being clever. A mechanical engineer. He and J were married secretly for ten years. Her parents never liked the man. They were not about to tell them they eloped. In time, they relocated out of state. Eventually, everyone knew the story.
Sugar Plum's husband, a talented and brilliant engineer also, headed the agency J's husband worked for. In fact, he helped him find the position. The agency was only to happy to have a capable man. Sugar Plum was happy to have won her husband. Another part of the family creed. Marry well, look the part. Suck the rest up.
It took Beth years to understand Sugar Plum. That she suffered from self-esteem was an understatement. Her children were continually embarrassed by her, but only too happy to receive the goods she bestowed on them; home down payments, babysitting, college and graduate school tuition, an open heart, and lots of compassion, delivered meals when they were sick.
In so many ways, Sugar Plum was the most successful sister. Not that there is any standard of measurement by which to assess this. Everyone loved her. Her children were embarrassed by her.
By the time Beth realized what was going on, she started a personal mission to help Sugar Plum's esteem. Both women supported one another in the years to come But it wasn't always that way. Sugar Plum wanted her children to marry well. Degrees. Family names. Money. Beth didn't have those kinds of credentials in the dating stage. In years to come, she rang the bell. The only one to attend an Ivy League school. It didn't matter as much for Beth as it did to Sugar Plum. She made sure everyone knew. She also added,
"They must have eased the requirements, Beth being an older student and all."
That was quintessential Sugar Plum. No filters. You knew where you stood with her.
In time, Sugar Plum grew to love Beth. Beth set better parameters for her. Even helped her and her daughter find peace together. When life took Beth in another direction from the family, a phone call to Sugar Plum after a few years of silence said it all.
"Hi, is Sugar Plum around?"
"Hello, is this OUR Beth?"
This ninety something woman called those dear to her 'sugar plum.' In time, the women of the family who had an affinity for her reversed it.
She was OUR Sugar Plum.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Mind
Did I paint that? One of the best things about painting is that you put it away, pull it out and see it with a new pair of eyes. I really had to wonder if this was MY work. Painting takes you on interesting journeys. Kind of like writing.
When Beth writes, she has no idea where she will end. She doesn't want to know. She writes because she has to.
It is hard to be objective about one's work. Sometimes I love it, other times I scratch my head in wonder. What could I have been thinking. But wait! This is a process. Enjoy it. I do. And I spend a lot of time painting. I like to see where the brush will take me. Sometimes it is more like where I will fall into.
The mind can be very hard on its owner. The mindbody can twist and turn, laugh and smile dependent upon where its owner 'thinks' it is. Most of the time, as we know, it is the same thoughts day in and day out.
Beth spent a lifetime doing investigative work. Often she didn't even know she was doing it. Some of it comes from natural intuitions. Energy work is like this. Remote viewers know this only too well. Clear the mind, see what visual impressions you get. Hunches. Knowings.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Coming Home
Beth couldn't sleep. It wasn't just her neighbors comment, for she is always spewing something at someone.
The neighbors call the woman, "officer." She feels so desperately out of control and must also ensure, or so she believes, that things are the way they are supposed to be. She critiques everyone's behavior, but her own. But this night would be different. There was something in her negativity that would affect things tonight.
After an exhausting day, Beth went to sleep about nine in the evening, tossing and turning all night long.
In the early morning hours, a bang was heard outside. Clearly, it ricocheted from another part in the complex. Beth was too tired to investigate. She hadn't slept well the night before, either.
Could it be Saturn moving into Scorpio ultimately manifesting our dreams? Kind of like March coming in like a lion and leaving as a lamb. Mars left Scorpio on the 6th which is not the time to launch new things. It is a time for some things to change. Many people feel the disequilibirum but have no idea what it is about. The intuitive ones won't question it. They will let things be as they are.
Beth rolled over after the noise feeling like she was being drawn in. She got right out of bed. She didn't, couldn't understand it. Something was righting itself. This she knew.
Then Beth learned the transformer outside the critical neighbor's apartment blew. That woman was directly in line with it. It isn't surprising as her husband and she orchestrate a clique and maintain the kind of control one would being so frustrated with themselves.
All night long, as Beth couldn't fall into a deep sleep, she reframed her thoughts. Thoughts are like shields. Once you are in your core belief, the negativity of others gets deflected back on them.
Eventually her thoughts surrounded her loving friends and family. And the goodness within. The interests she is pursuing and plans to pursue soon. She remembered to look at 'aspects' of situations and not to color them good or bad. It had nothing to do with Beth. But nasties hurt even when we remember the source.
Eventually, power was restored. The lights came on, the sun came out.
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Know That
She couldn't wait to speak on the radio talk show. It was time to tell what happened. Humans are an odd lot. They tend to over-think without any action or remedy or they under-think without any action or remedy. Either way, the result tends toward the same thing.
I thought about this poem of the no-mind and how things are without thinking:
With no-mind, blossoms invite the butterfly;
With no-mind, the butterfly visits the blossoms.
When the flower blooms, the butterfly comes;
When the butterfly comes, the flower blooms.
I do not “know” others;
Others do not “know” me.
Not-knowing each other we naturally follow the Way.
18th Century Japanese poet, Ryokan
Some things happen because they are programmed to happen. The blossoms invite the butterfly. Is there a thought process or it is autonomic?
This is not true of the UFO experience. They are here for a reason. Personally, I feel they are here to observe how we are, what we are doing. They want to understand how we use or don't use our minds. They compare us to nature and wonder about us. Someone recently said they must think we are stupid. I tend to think the same thing quite often. But I simply do not 'know.' I tend toward following my intuition so that is my knowing. It always keeps me in good stead.
Beth didn't prepare for the talk show. She wanted to be more extemporaneous. That is where her knowing is. Within. Not in her brain but in her head. She uses the brains in every cell. And, she sees the brain head as the central processing unit. A coordinator of sorts.
The radio talk show went well. Her interviewer took her beyond herself. She liked that she had a forum in which to be open. A bit tired, but pleased she walked down the stairs to the door in the parking lot. As she walked out to her limo, a well dressed man in a dark suit waited by the door. Her limo driver was fixed on him.
"Excuse me, but was that you on air?" the well dressed man asked.
"Yes it was," she said softly.
"Can I talk with you? I want you to feel comfortable. Could your limo meet me at the Round About Restaurant at the circle?Your driver could wait, or even join us."
"Sure, that would be fine. I look forward to it. Do you want to follow me behind?"
"Yes, I don't know the area too well but I do know this restaurant. I am staying in the hotel next to it."
Beth was cautious. Her driver was a former Navy Seal, Chad, was a long time friend. She would be in good hands. Chad decided to join them for dinner.
"Your story is huge. Thank you for coming out with it. I've seen them. At York Beach, Maine. I was there when you and your friend were standing on the shore. I saw you two as close up as if I were two feet away. Their technology is beyond anything you know."
Beth caught her breath. She had to know more.
"Why were you up there with them? Were you abducted?"
"Yes, once. They do this thing that checks your heart first. That is why they chose for you to see them. They trusted you. They felt your love. I was picked up so that I could communicate with you. They did the same thing to me.
They thought you might feel safer with a 'humanoid' at least for now. They've been reading your mind for years."
"Not surprised."
Beth got more than serious. She drew closer to the table. Chad inched over toward her.
"They are coming to see you again. They want you to know this nonsense going on in earth is child's play. You will be more than alright. As will your family and friends. And know this. We have followed your thought process for years. You felt you were in a cattle chute, right? That is the image you kept portraying."
"Oh, geeze. Exactly. I was in a cattle chute. I wrote about it for years. Smothered is more like it. Smothered in a lifestyle that wasn't me."
"That is why I keep telling you to hold your ground. Feel your energy. Call in only that which supports and elevates you. We're building platforms within those whose hearts are opened. We keep sending your more information, more knowings. As you fit your own skin, we send you more.
I see you let go of so much. There is more you know, we humans have so much stuff that weights us down."
"I have to go back to the ship but we will come for you soon. Be well my friend. And keep smiling. You are in the best of hands. Know that."
Some things just happen
I thought about this poem of the no-mind and how things are without thinking:
With no-mind, blossoms invite the butterfly;
With no-mind, the butterfly visits the blossoms.
When the flower blooms, the butterfly comes;
When the butterfly comes, the flower blooms.
I do not “know” others;
Others do not “know” me.
Not-knowing each other we naturally follow the Way.
18th Century Japanese poet, Ryokan
Some things happen because they are programmed to happen. The blossoms invite the butterfly. Is there a thought process or it is autonomic?
This is not true of the UFO experience. They are here for a reason. Personally, I feel they are here to observe how we are, what we are doing. They want to understand how we use or don't use our minds. They compare us to nature and wonder about us. Someone recently said they must think we are stupid. I tend to think the same thing quite often. But I simply do not 'know.' I tend toward following my intuition so that is my knowing. It always keeps me in good stead.
Beth didn't prepare for the talk show. She wanted to be more extemporaneous. That is where her knowing is. Within. Not in her brain but in her head. She uses the brains in every cell. And, she sees the brain head as the central processing unit. A coordinator of sorts.
The radio talk show went well. Her interviewer took her beyond herself. She liked that she had a forum in which to be open. A bit tired, but pleased she walked down the stairs to the door in the parking lot. As she walked out to her limo, a well dressed man in a dark suit waited by the door. Her limo driver was fixed on him.
"Excuse me, but was that you on air?" the well dressed man asked.
"Yes it was," she said softly.
"Can I talk with you? I want you to feel comfortable. Could your limo meet me at the Round About Restaurant at the circle?Your driver could wait, or even join us."
"Sure, that would be fine. I look forward to it. Do you want to follow me behind?"
"Yes, I don't know the area too well but I do know this restaurant. I am staying in the hotel next to it."
Beth was cautious. Her driver was a former Navy Seal, Chad, was a long time friend. She would be in good hands. Chad decided to join them for dinner.
"Your story is huge. Thank you for coming out with it. I've seen them. At York Beach, Maine. I was there when you and your friend were standing on the shore. I saw you two as close up as if I were two feet away. Their technology is beyond anything you know."
Beth caught her breath. She had to know more.
"Why were you up there with them? Were you abducted?"
"Yes, once. They do this thing that checks your heart first. That is why they chose for you to see them. They trusted you. They felt your love. I was picked up so that I could communicate with you. They did the same thing to me.
They thought you might feel safer with a 'humanoid' at least for now. They've been reading your mind for years."
"Not surprised."
Beth got more than serious. She drew closer to the table. Chad inched over toward her.
"They are coming to see you again. They want you to know this nonsense going on in earth is child's play. You will be more than alright. As will your family and friends. And know this. We have followed your thought process for years. You felt you were in a cattle chute, right? That is the image you kept portraying."
"Oh, geeze. Exactly. I was in a cattle chute. I wrote about it for years. Smothered is more like it. Smothered in a lifestyle that wasn't me."
"That is why I keep telling you to hold your ground. Feel your energy. Call in only that which supports and elevates you. We're building platforms within those whose hearts are opened. We keep sending your more information, more knowings. As you fit your own skin, we send you more.
I see you let go of so much. There is more you know, we humans have so much stuff that weights us down."
"I have to go back to the ship but we will come for you soon. Be well my friend. And keep smiling. You are in the best of hands. Know that."
Some things just happen
Friday, October 5, 2012
The Bill Comes Due
Emma ~
We've been reading your posts about a polygraph for politicos. What a marvelous, albeit funny idea. The thing is this. Don't these politicos think they are right? Don't people who attend status, power and have financial wealth believe they are more unique than the rest of us and deserve it? Still, I'd like to do it with a louder than loud beep, beep every time an untruth was told.
You sell your soul for the money and don't ever believe you don't. Spiritually, emotionally and physically. The bill always comes due. Tantamous to karma. Our deeds come full cycle. The Laws of Physics.
Remember Robert Redford in The Horse Whisperer? It's one of my favorite movies with the best dialogues. He makes and keeps it so simple. He stays in his own space allowing others to be where they are unless, of course, it affects him personally. Movies have that special control, don't they? Orchestrating scenes so points can be made. In the end, or in the beginning dependent upon how you see it, life is what you make it.
My personal thought is that we convolute it, that is, life, so that we don't have to be responsible. Grown up. Just look at the drama out there. Stay in the drama and you don't have to grow. But what a sad thing that is. When we speak it out loud, then we have to do something about it.
The weather turned warm and sunny again. A week of rain, rain and more rain left a depressed populace. I can't imagine living in Asia through the rainy season.
We've been reading your posts about a polygraph for politicos. What a marvelous, albeit funny idea. The thing is this. Don't these politicos think they are right? Don't people who attend status, power and have financial wealth believe they are more unique than the rest of us and deserve it? Still, I'd like to do it with a louder than loud beep, beep every time an untruth was told.
You sell your soul for the money and don't ever believe you don't. Spiritually, emotionally and physically. The bill always comes due. Tantamous to karma. Our deeds come full cycle. The Laws of Physics.
Remember Robert Redford in The Horse Whisperer? It's one of my favorite movies with the best dialogues. He makes and keeps it so simple. He stays in his own space allowing others to be where they are unless, of course, it affects him personally. Movies have that special control, don't they? Orchestrating scenes so points can be made. In the end, or in the beginning dependent upon how you see it, life is what you make it.
My personal thought is that we convolute it, that is, life, so that we don't have to be responsible. Grown up. Just look at the drama out there. Stay in the drama and you don't have to grow. But what a sad thing that is. When we speak it out loud, then we have to do something about it.
The weather turned warm and sunny again. A week of rain, rain and more rain left a depressed populace. I can't imagine living in Asia through the rainy season.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Beep, Beep
Beth and Tony took their seats just five rows from the podium. Only last night the podium had been wired as a polygraph.
A smirk covered Tony's face as the candidates entered the assembly. He was more than excited. He had had enough. And he was about to show the world.
Both candidates would surely rest their hands on the side of the lectern totally unaware. A slight lean forward, hands pressing down took blood pressure, respiration, skin conductivity and pulse readings.
The tiny meter in both Beth and Tony's ear went crazy all night. But all they heard was a slight beep at the lies spewed back and forth. Lies. From one paid government employee. Lies from a job candidate.
Back at the office, their staff would record all the findings. It would now be part of a permanent history recovered for time and eternity.
Each time a mistruth was offered by each candidate, a Tweet that was heard around the world. Paul Revere would have been proud.
"No fact checkers needed here," Tony said.
"We have more than enough information. If only the media cared, if only they would report these findings."
Corporation owned media would never consent to that. Within five minutes of the first 'occurrence' millions of people got messaged. It was better than a flash mob dance. Theatre at the podium. No taxpayer was laughing.
The 99% had been heard. By each other. By people that counted.
Beep, Beep. They weren't backing up.
A smirk covered Tony's face as the candidates entered the assembly. He was more than excited. He had had enough. And he was about to show the world.
Both candidates would surely rest their hands on the side of the lectern totally unaware. A slight lean forward, hands pressing down took blood pressure, respiration, skin conductivity and pulse readings.
The tiny meter in both Beth and Tony's ear went crazy all night. But all they heard was a slight beep at the lies spewed back and forth. Lies. From one paid government employee. Lies from a job candidate.
Back at the office, their staff would record all the findings. It would now be part of a permanent history recovered for time and eternity.
Each time a mistruth was offered by each candidate, a Tweet that was heard around the world. Paul Revere would have been proud.
"No fact checkers needed here," Tony said.
"We have more than enough information. If only the media cared, if only they would report these findings."
Corporation owned media would never consent to that. Within five minutes of the first 'occurrence' millions of people got messaged. It was better than a flash mob dance. Theatre at the podium. No taxpayer was laughing.
The 99% had been heard. By each other. By people that counted.
Beep, Beep. They weren't backing up.
Undocumented Hours
"The past few years have levied a strange burden of proof upon our backs, a burden to account for our hours and days, to prove to all who care to watch from the screens of their phones and computers that we are doing something worthy with our lives. In the meantime, we have forgotten how to be content in being present. We have not been transfixed and emptied since we first believed the lie that all of our experiences must be shared."
Undocumented Hours. Rebecca Parker Payne.
My kind of day. But what is in the boat????????????
Undocumented Hours. Rebecca Parker Payne.
My kind of day. But what is in the boat????????????
On Remembering
A haze in the distance. Beyond description. Peaceful. Spectral colors. Those narrow bands of waves. The elements absorb the light of a particular frequency. The colors begin with the lowest frequency of red, going through orange, yellow, green, blue and violet.
There are times I miss the smallness of it all. The quiet. And all the memories and people I met. Familiarity.
But this stage feels different. Feeling like I am on the cusp of discovering something new.
Last night in my dream, the explanation for the UFO encounter two years ago became a little more clear. In the dream a hypnotherapist uncovered the missing time frame. There hasn't been much shared about this. It is hard to know where to begin.
Have you ever felt you were trying to remember something but you just can't get there?
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Emma
Emma,
Morning came early again. It's that jet lag thing. Just observing the behaviors of my pets reinforces how getting out of one's environment takes a while to readjust. There is something special about fall mornings. Before the activity begins. A somber time. I'm remembering my beautiful Smokies and I am missing them. My familiar surroundings. Definitely the most beautiful place on earth.
My Dad always talked about them. I wanted to see what took his breath away. I don't know him well as he left in my teens. But what an eye he had for beauty. It was the only place he ever spoke about other than Big Meadows in the Shenandoah. He camped there often. Nice, but no cigar. The Smokies ring the bell. And I have been thinking about the 'somber' aspect of the Smokies for years. I can't describe it. Maybe they aren't so somber but there is a sadness in the color, the scalloping. There is also a beauty in all of it. What can I say? I love them!
Before I close, I must tell you about the skies this morning. Scattered clouds, bright moon with mist. Each place sure has its beauty. I am glad to be here. Glad to have had all the experiences. All in perfect order.
Love
Beth
Morning came early again. It's that jet lag thing. Just observing the behaviors of my pets reinforces how getting out of one's environment takes a while to readjust. There is something special about fall mornings. Before the activity begins. A somber time. I'm remembering my beautiful Smokies and I am missing them. My familiar surroundings. Definitely the most beautiful place on earth.
My Dad always talked about them. I wanted to see what took his breath away. I don't know him well as he left in my teens. But what an eye he had for beauty. It was the only place he ever spoke about other than Big Meadows in the Shenandoah. He camped there often. Nice, but no cigar. The Smokies ring the bell. And I have been thinking about the 'somber' aspect of the Smokies for years. I can't describe it. Maybe they aren't so somber but there is a sadness in the color, the scalloping. There is also a beauty in all of it. What can I say? I love them!
Before I close, I must tell you about the skies this morning. Scattered clouds, bright moon with mist. Each place sure has its beauty. I am glad to be here. Glad to have had all the experiences. All in perfect order.
Love
Beth
Monday, October 1, 2012
Dearest Emma
Dearest Emma,
Your letters bring such joy to my heart. I like that you understand the spirit world. The walking between worlds.
What did you think about the UFO photograph? It is just like the others, isn't it? It makes you wonder what is really out there. Do you think they are a kind world, or light and dark like ours? I prefer saying light and dark rather than good and evil. I hope you don't mind.
I've been spending more time in the woods lately. The fast paced world gives me indigestion. The lack of concern for others. I like living more sustainably, too. I am learning more about how to do that each day.
This morning I brunched with an intuitive friend. She was upset that she got angry recently and said a few four letter words. I mean really. Even Buddhists get angry, not that I am a Buddhist or anything. Though, I do like some of their behaviors. I like the being present part especially. The icons and liturgy don't fit me too well. The focus on inner peace sure does. Especially as our class based society continues to separate. Having said this, I also see a coming together of opposites. A kind of quetzalcoatl. Maybe that is the walking between worlds. We see the polar opposites before they connect. Like magnets.
Anyway, I told my friend to just let it rip. It happens.
Personally, I don't think we are effective enough. Our anger needs to be vented toward those in power, not clerks. We also have to be more kind and compassionate to ourselves when we do this deed. Let it go. Lest we implode. It feels all so seasonal. The letting go aspect.
Leaves everywhere are falling now. The colors are brilliant gold, red, nutmeg. The sap will run down soon. It is a grand time for sure. Drawing in. I'll be painting more. I have enclosed some of my recent work. Simplify, simplify. That is my motto.
Namaste
Beth
Your letters bring such joy to my heart. I like that you understand the spirit world. The walking between worlds.
What did you think about the UFO photograph? It is just like the others, isn't it? It makes you wonder what is really out there. Do you think they are a kind world, or light and dark like ours? I prefer saying light and dark rather than good and evil. I hope you don't mind.
I've been spending more time in the woods lately. The fast paced world gives me indigestion. The lack of concern for others. I like living more sustainably, too. I am learning more about how to do that each day.
This morning I brunched with an intuitive friend. She was upset that she got angry recently and said a few four letter words. I mean really. Even Buddhists get angry, not that I am a Buddhist or anything. Though, I do like some of their behaviors. I like the being present part especially. The icons and liturgy don't fit me too well. The focus on inner peace sure does. Especially as our class based society continues to separate. Having said this, I also see a coming together of opposites. A kind of quetzalcoatl. Maybe that is the walking between worlds. We see the polar opposites before they connect. Like magnets.
Anyway, I told my friend to just let it rip. It happens.
Personally, I don't think we are effective enough. Our anger needs to be vented toward those in power, not clerks. We also have to be more kind and compassionate to ourselves when we do this deed. Let it go. Lest we implode. It feels all so seasonal. The letting go aspect.
Namaste
Beth
Dear Beth ~
Dear Beth ~
Both coolness and dampness with a spritz of rain fell on the seacoast area this past weekend. Who knew we would awaken with a double rainbow today. Seeing it was more than just ominous. Some believe:
The last few days have felt bumpy. It hasn't been too enjoyable to be honest with you. I do...really do...feel like something is about to happen. A burst of something. An unfolding. Everything points to it.
I am looking forward to our meeting soon.
Love,
Emma
Both coolness and dampness with a spritz of rain fell on the seacoast area this past weekend. Who knew we would awaken with a double rainbow today. Seeing it was more than just ominous. Some believe:
- A double rainbow is a sign from the cosmic Universe that you are about to have great blessings fall into your lap, and that one good thing will lead to another.
- A double rainbow is the symbol of transformation.
The last few days have felt bumpy. It hasn't been too enjoyable to be honest with you. I do...really do...feel like something is about to happen. A burst of something. An unfolding. Everything points to it.
I am looking forward to our meeting soon.
Love,
Emma
Saturday, September 22, 2012
The Front Door
Beth didn't sleep well last night. It was just the fall to the floor earlier that week. Though she did some kind of concussion to her body and body parts. But today she was standing a bit more straight. Icing and heating plus the Ibuprofen helped a bit. Tomorrow would tell a better story. She'd be meeting a friend at the pier for brunch.
All night long she tossed and turned. Awakening at 4 a.m. after just four hours of sleep wasn't enough. Something didn't feel right. And when Beth gets one of those feelings, well...Thoreau gets them, too. Both went over the UFO photograph with a fine toothed comb. Flying saucer for sure! They didn't have any contact with the professional photographer. But it was a trusted source. They both felt there would be more.
Maybe it was the forty-first anniversary of the abduction of the Exeter, New Hampshire couple returning on their honeymoon in 1961 in Lincoln, New Hampshire. Beth had to take Thoreau to the area, though she didn't know why then. Maybe it was the lingering energy there. They would both be better for it. She really just wanted him to experience Exeter. The joggers didn't help, either. They slowed things done a bit. It was all part of a divine plan. In time, they would come to know more.
Beth was in Exeter recently. Passing by the Exeter Phillips Academy. Campus Security was out in full force. It was just an ordinary Saturday or so she thought. The autumnal equinox. A converge of light and dark. Balance.
The harvest is in. Crisp apples, corn stalks, squirrels hide their acorns, leaves turn to red, gold and yellow as the sap runs down. A glorious sunny day.
She loved the drive through the wooded community. She thought about the soup she had prepared. Acorn squash with apples, walnuts, nutmeg, cinnamon and gloves. The smell of it warming on the stovetop. The windows were open as the fresh autumnal air filled her cabin.
There was a brisk knock at the door. Beth stood up to answer just as the phone rang. It was Thoreau.
"Whatever you do, DO NOT answer your front door. Or phone unless you see my number."
All night long she tossed and turned. Awakening at 4 a.m. after just four hours of sleep wasn't enough. Something didn't feel right. And when Beth gets one of those feelings, well...Thoreau gets them, too. Both went over the UFO photograph with a fine toothed comb. Flying saucer for sure! They didn't have any contact with the professional photographer. But it was a trusted source. They both felt there would be more.
Maybe it was the forty-first anniversary of the abduction of the Exeter, New Hampshire couple returning on their honeymoon in 1961 in Lincoln, New Hampshire. Beth had to take Thoreau to the area, though she didn't know why then. Maybe it was the lingering energy there. They would both be better for it. She really just wanted him to experience Exeter. The joggers didn't help, either. They slowed things done a bit. It was all part of a divine plan. In time, they would come to know more.
The harvest is in. Crisp apples, corn stalks, squirrels hide their acorns, leaves turn to red, gold and yellow as the sap runs down. A glorious sunny day.
She loved the drive through the wooded community. She thought about the soup she had prepared. Acorn squash with apples, walnuts, nutmeg, cinnamon and gloves. The smell of it warming on the stovetop. The windows were open as the fresh autumnal air filled her cabin.
There was a brisk knock at the door. Beth stood up to answer just as the phone rang. It was Thoreau.
"Whatever you do, DO NOT answer your front door. Or phone unless you see my number."
Monday, September 17, 2012
The Frenzy
It was one noisy week when the octogenarian above moved out. Allegedly it was to rehab. Even the flatbed truck with the E. Vil Plumbing and Heating Company logo were clearly from a time more economically solvent. The sons parked it along the driveway filled with Beverly Hillbilly oak cabinets and headboards. Jed Clampitt couldn't be too far away.
Then the renter above was bumped out of the elevator flanked on the forearm by two hefty men. Her stainless cane was nearby. This time, her hair was coiffed. She was going somewhere. Definitely.
But it was as though they couldn't get her out fast enough. Rumors held that she was going to a home, convalescent or otherwise. I didn't see her again. I did hear her sons...all night long. All nights' long. It took days of packing, days of occupying the singular elevator in the building.
"Are you Elaine's family?"
"Yes!"
I walked up to the apartment early enough the following morning. Seeing her 'grandsons' didn't sit well with me for days. They didn't look of this earth. In fact, they looked like Pugsley, the son in the Addams Family. Both boys, the younger and the elder. Their coloring, hairline were just plain...odd.
A scoffed door, more scoffs than not revealed a hurried, careless move. Why so late in the night? Plates rattled on the guest room wall for nights. Eventually, there were removed. Mostly out of concern they would fall and shatter. My English Nana wouldn't have liked that.
And then it happened. Thoreau was visiting and had a download. Several of them. I listened and wondered. I had a heavy night of something as well. Then the next light was a light one. That was after Thoreau's camera told the whole story.
"There's something you got to see!"
We met in the hall as he pulled up his digital photo shoot just the morning before. At first he thought it was a speck on the lens. An investigative photojournalist, he wanted to know more.
Zooming in this is what was out there.
The following afternoon, there was a slight knock at the door. It was the Pugsleys. Or what ever their name is. Peering through the peephole I was not about to open the door. As I walked about the studio, their footsteps above followed. Sitting on the balcony above, one was listening. I decided to close the slider and secure it.
Again, I changed rooms and the footsteps followed. There appeared to be no female in residence. I remembered the handsome man I saw only six days before. The boys looked nothing like him.
As I laid down on the sofa to clear my highly detailed mind, thoughts returned to the vibration in the guest room six days ago. Thoreau felt it last night but this time, it was in his leg. Not the floor, walls or ceiling like I had heard. I thought about the butterfly frenzy yesterday which we saw. The dragonfly frenzy. They would drop down and scoot up and up. It seemed as though they were telling us something.
The air cooled as the evening came to a close. The dogs were highly agitated. They had never been this way.
Then the renter above was bumped out of the elevator flanked on the forearm by two hefty men. Her stainless cane was nearby. This time, her hair was coiffed. She was going somewhere. Definitely.
But it was as though they couldn't get her out fast enough. Rumors held that she was going to a home, convalescent or otherwise. I didn't see her again. I did hear her sons...all night long. All nights' long. It took days of packing, days of occupying the singular elevator in the building.
"Are you Elaine's family?"
"Yes!"
I walked up to the apartment early enough the following morning. Seeing her 'grandsons' didn't sit well with me for days. They didn't look of this earth. In fact, they looked like Pugsley, the son in the Addams Family. Both boys, the younger and the elder. Their coloring, hairline were just plain...odd.
A scoffed door, more scoffs than not revealed a hurried, careless move. Why so late in the night? Plates rattled on the guest room wall for nights. Eventually, there were removed. Mostly out of concern they would fall and shatter. My English Nana wouldn't have liked that.
And then it happened. Thoreau was visiting and had a download. Several of them. I listened and wondered. I had a heavy night of something as well. Then the next light was a light one. That was after Thoreau's camera told the whole story.
"There's something you got to see!"
We met in the hall as he pulled up his digital photo shoot just the morning before. At first he thought it was a speck on the lens. An investigative photojournalist, he wanted to know more.
Zooming in this is what was out there.
The following afternoon, there was a slight knock at the door. It was the Pugsleys. Or what ever their name is. Peering through the peephole I was not about to open the door. As I walked about the studio, their footsteps above followed. Sitting on the balcony above, one was listening. I decided to close the slider and secure it.
Again, I changed rooms and the footsteps followed. There appeared to be no female in residence. I remembered the handsome man I saw only six days before. The boys looked nothing like him.
As I laid down on the sofa to clear my highly detailed mind, thoughts returned to the vibration in the guest room six days ago. Thoreau felt it last night but this time, it was in his leg. Not the floor, walls or ceiling like I had heard. I thought about the butterfly frenzy yesterday which we saw. The dragonfly frenzy. They would drop down and scoot up and up. It seemed as though they were telling us something.
The air cooled as the evening came to a close. The dogs were highly agitated. They had never been this way.
Friday, September 7, 2012
Secrets of 9/11
But the story doesn't end there. On September 11, 2001 nearly everything that could go wrong went wrong. Suddenly POTUS (President of the United States) was unreachable. They said it was because of an overload on the communication system.
Moreover, no one in authority was available to give orders to follow the four planes. At every turn the military was not contacted until very late in the process. Then there were no planes available when we did have pilots ready to fly. Bush and Cheney said they gave the order to remove the hijackers from the air but the order was never received or even...documented.
Just then Rajiv walked into the room.
"Connect the dots. It's all there. Think big picture. He spoke about a television program last night called, "Secrets of 911." Dick Clarke, the "former National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection, and Counter-terrorism for the United States" spoke about all the foul-ups. It wasn't a coincidence.
"Clarke worked for the State Department during the presidency of Ronald Reagan.[2] In 1992, President George H.W. Bush appointed him to chair the Counter-terrorism Security Group and to a seat on the United States National Security Council. President Bill Clinton retained Clarke and in 1998 promoted him to be the National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection, and Counter-terrorism, the chief counter-terrorism adviser on the National Security Council. Under President George W. Bush, Clarke initially continued in the same position, but the position was no longer given cabinet-level access. He later became the Special Advisor to the President on cybersecurity, before leaving the Bush administration in 2003.
Clarke came to widespread public attention for his role as counter-terrorism czar in the Clinton and Bush administrations in March 2004, when he appeared on the 60 Minutes television news magazine, released his memoir about his service in government, Against All Enemies, and testified before the 9/11 Commission. In all three instances, Clarke was sharply critical of the Bush administration's attitude toward counter-terrorism before the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and of the decision to go to war with Iraq. Following Clarke's strong criticisms of the Bush administration, Bush administration officials and other Republicans attempted to discredit him or rebut his criticisms, making Clarke a controversial figure". Source: Wikipedia
Fifteen of the hijackers were from Saudi Arabia. The Bush Administration had strong ties to the Saudi's.
http://www.wsbtv.com/news/news/local/former-senator-reveals-secrets-about-911-saudis/nFWc5/
The U.S. sold $60 billion in weapons to the Saudi's under the guise the Saudi's would protect the United States in the Persian Gulf. We also bought billions of oil from them.
On 9/11 no planes were allowed to fly, except for the royal Saudi family. They were in the U.S. on 9/11 and were allowed to fly home.
Beth put her hands to her face in shock.
"OMG."
We don't have to wonder any more why the UFOs are showing themselves.
Moreover, no one in authority was available to give orders to follow the four planes. At every turn the military was not contacted until very late in the process. Then there were no planes available when we did have pilots ready to fly. Bush and Cheney said they gave the order to remove the hijackers from the air but the order was never received or even...documented.
Just then Rajiv walked into the room.
"Connect the dots. It's all there. Think big picture. He spoke about a television program last night called, "Secrets of 911." Dick Clarke, the "former National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection, and Counter-terrorism for the United States" spoke about all the foul-ups. It wasn't a coincidence.
"Clarke worked for the State Department during the presidency of Ronald Reagan.[2] In 1992, President George H.W. Bush appointed him to chair the Counter-terrorism Security Group and to a seat on the United States National Security Council. President Bill Clinton retained Clarke and in 1998 promoted him to be the National Coordinator for Security, Infrastructure Protection, and Counter-terrorism, the chief counter-terrorism adviser on the National Security Council. Under President George W. Bush, Clarke initially continued in the same position, but the position was no longer given cabinet-level access. He later became the Special Advisor to the President on cybersecurity, before leaving the Bush administration in 2003.
Clarke came to widespread public attention for his role as counter-terrorism czar in the Clinton and Bush administrations in March 2004, when he appeared on the 60 Minutes television news magazine, released his memoir about his service in government, Against All Enemies, and testified before the 9/11 Commission. In all three instances, Clarke was sharply critical of the Bush administration's attitude toward counter-terrorism before the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and of the decision to go to war with Iraq. Following Clarke's strong criticisms of the Bush administration, Bush administration officials and other Republicans attempted to discredit him or rebut his criticisms, making Clarke a controversial figure". Source: Wikipedia
Fifteen of the hijackers were from Saudi Arabia. The Bush Administration had strong ties to the Saudi's.
http://www.wsbtv.com/news/news/local/former-senator-reveals-secrets-about-911-saudis/nFWc5/
The U.S. sold $60 billion in weapons to the Saudi's under the guise the Saudi's would protect the United States in the Persian Gulf. We also bought billions of oil from them.
On 9/11 no planes were allowed to fly, except for the royal Saudi family. They were in the U.S. on 9/11 and were allowed to fly home.
Beth put her hands to her face in shock.
"OMG."
We don't have to wonder any more why the UFOs are showing themselves.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Chakras
They?!
"Did you notice more and more are sighted? They want us to know they are here. They want to help, but they do not want to frighten us. The military, industrial and financial industries are scared. They want to control everything. They don't care about the destruction to our planet, they're like children. No internal thermostat. They want 2/3 of the population gone.
Oh, where to begin. Follow Dr. Ted Loder's work or Richard Dolan's. The dots are connecting. There are so many aspects to this."
"I'm not surprised. It is...kind of obvious actually. Even some of the things going on in schools, theatres, NYC, you have to wonder if they were brainwashed to commit those atrocities. Who is doing this?"
"Our government, our corporate government. They diverted NASA, oh that is a huge topic. Richard Dolan speaks about that.
Katrina, Haiti, those storms didn't just happen. A ploy to destroy the human habit of the Gulf Region, the oil refineries have a stake in it. Haiti? A poor nation with some really wealthy communities. Beautiful beaches, exotic plants, waterfalls and animals. Bauxite, copper, calcium carbonate, gold, marble and hydropower. With an impoverished population, low employment, it is easy pickins. There may also be more oil than some admit," Beth said.
Beth poured through more documents. Thoreau and Rajiv left for a run on the beach. The bunker was quiet again. Beth was more than exhausted.
She saw pictures of ancient alien cities on the moon. Monoliths. She remembered when the former National Aeronautics and Space Administration Data and Photo Control Department manager, Ken Johnston, who worked for the space agency's Lunar Receiving Laboratory during the Apollo missions was been fired for telling the truth about the ancient alien cities.He refused to participate in the cover-up promulgated by NASA and was fired.
Beth felt sick in the pit of her stomach. The chakra center. They always resonates the truth.
"Did you notice more and more are sighted? They want us to know they are here. They want to help, but they do not want to frighten us. The military, industrial and financial industries are scared. They want to control everything. They don't care about the destruction to our planet, they're like children. No internal thermostat. They want 2/3 of the population gone.
Oh, where to begin. Follow Dr. Ted Loder's work or Richard Dolan's. The dots are connecting. There are so many aspects to this."
"I'm not surprised. It is...kind of obvious actually. Even some of the things going on in schools, theatres, NYC, you have to wonder if they were brainwashed to commit those atrocities. Who is doing this?"
"Our government, our corporate government. They diverted NASA, oh that is a huge topic. Richard Dolan speaks about that.
Katrina, Haiti, those storms didn't just happen. A ploy to destroy the human habit of the Gulf Region, the oil refineries have a stake in it. Haiti? A poor nation with some really wealthy communities. Beautiful beaches, exotic plants, waterfalls and animals. Bauxite, copper, calcium carbonate, gold, marble and hydropower. With an impoverished population, low employment, it is easy pickins. There may also be more oil than some admit," Beth said.
Beth poured through more documents. Thoreau and Rajiv left for a run on the beach. The bunker was quiet again. Beth was more than exhausted.
She saw pictures of ancient alien cities on the moon. Monoliths. She remembered when the former National Aeronautics and Space Administration Data and Photo Control Department manager, Ken Johnston, who worked for the space agency's Lunar Receiving Laboratory during the Apollo missions was been fired for telling the truth about the ancient alien cities.He refused to participate in the cover-up promulgated by NASA and was fired.
Beth felt sick in the pit of her stomach. The chakra center. They always resonates the truth.
They?
A joint friend, Rajiv, was blindfolded and taken to the bunker.
For his safety more than theirs. He was an expert at documents. M.I.T educated. Navy trained. A former cryptologist.
The blindfold was removed. Rajiv rubbed his eyes gently. He looked at the documents. A few drew his attention. He paused.
Crop Circles
Gulf of Mexico oil spill
Japanese Tsunami
Katrina
UFOs increase
Virginia earthquake
Wall Street meltdown
Rajiv explained the crop circles in his beautiful English accent.
"Several forces are at work at once. Intricately designed. Neatly knotted wheat stocks, not a one of them broken. This is beyond pristene. Magnetic field are altered. Most appear at night taking less than 20 seconds to form. Compasses have been reported unable to locate north, new batteries are drained, frequencies are affected. Farm animals are agitated. Sometimes entire towns are without power.You think this is unrelated?"
Beth began to meditate. Calm herself down. Deep breathing. Long inspiration, long expiration. Thoreau poured through more documents. Unusually quiet. He was in his process. Like the time errant teen tossed a ball on the roof of his sportscar and the teen's Dad blew off the dent on his car.. Thoreau's eyes were focused. He meant business.
Inside the bunker they felt safe. Anonymous. Rajiv made a blended green juice drink. Kale, parsley, apples, celery, cinnamon. It was more than refreshing. The threesome were enjoying a much needed break.
A text message came across Beth's Droid:
"People are asking questions. Some are disappearing. Protests are happening everywhere. People are tired of the oppression. And it is both political parties. The time for change is close. But don't...do NOT stop. Go higher, get noticed. They are here to help you. Ask them to show themselves. Trust your thoughts."
"They?"
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