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.

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/status.html

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-engineered-storm-of-the-century/

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.

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.

Three Knocks

Three Knocks

"Snug as a bug, I'll bet the builder of this barn didn't anticipate the tree growing so large. Many barns are held up with large rocks," Beth thought.

She was driving past this old barn when she came upon this:

While you can't see it now, a tall and slender man dressed in Brooks Brother's finest dropped an envelope alongside of one of the grave markers.  Slowly, he turned his head side to side before he tilted upward.  A few sniffles later, the man was back in his shiny black Mercedes.  

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.

She was remembering when this naval prison closed in the late sixties, and  imagined the cloak and dagger schemes a few of the inmates would later tell.  Government prisoners aren't always in the slammer because of crimes.  Sometimes...well, they just have too much information.  Reminiscent of Mandela, they are better kept alive for their deaths would have erupted a revolution for sure.

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."

(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.'

"

The Mysterious Life and Death
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.

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

We Have Met The Enemy And...

Need I say more?

http://www.brasschecktv.com/videos/the-war-on-terror-is-a-fraud-1/the-fbis-fed-follies.html

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.

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.

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.

The Mind

Wait!

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.

"The mind, once stretched by an idea, never returns to its original dimensions."

 

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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. 

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

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. 

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.

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????????????

On Remembering

The Smokies as the sun sets in the west.  It began here.

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?

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

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

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:

• 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.

And some of us are ready for transformation and great blessings!  Maybe that is why I have been seeing foxes lately, too. The fox experiences preceded the double rainbow.  Now that is telling! The fox teaches us to be more in harmony with our environment.  That could just mean to find that special place within where we feel safe.  I do like walking between worlds.

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