I've been watching a lecture by Dan Winters about the Galactic History of DNA. Most of it is stuff I already knew: everything has DNA, a fully ascended being can live in a star (like my soul does), there were the bird people (mine) vs the snake people (my former betrothed) and that's how the structure of the universe went boom. But still: I don't go touting these things so I'm amused when I come across someone talking about it.
The things I mention here are "past life" memories, of course: things I've known and remembered since I was about 14 years old. The memories came upon me bit by bit. and I fully believed in them with a faith that could barely be shaken. But it was shaken, in the end, when I found out the truth about MKultra. When I found out what may be the truth about myself.
The main question I have in my rather normal quest of "who am I?" is: what part in my head is the lie and what part is the truth? This is why I started digging into my head. This is why I started reading articles, books, and reports by whistle blowers. Because we are the sum of our memories and experiences, and I no longer know if my personal sum has been concluded in error.
I could spend a lot talking about who I thought I was in this post, but I think perhaps it's best to nutshell so that I can concentrate on other thoughts that will undoubtedly tie into it later. I was "told" by the information in my head that I was a slave. But also, I was a princess: the last of my kind from the original homeworld of all sentient life ages ago. Some people would then regard me as a Lyran, and I've met a lot who decided I must be angelic. Then of course there are those who taste my primal energy, it's dark flavor, and decry me as evil. I've even been kicked out of card reader booths, smudged in people's homes, and attacked by no less than two separate holy roller churches to be exorcised.
Whatever others decide I am, for me the real importance has been more where I've been. Perhaps it's my Indian (feather not dot) upbringing that had to play with that - a person is who they are not where they stand or who their grandfather was. I think it helped me, this philosophy, so that I remember towering pink granite structures, winged dragon teachers, a flight path to a planet on the other side of a black hole, and a lot more. I also remember the day everything died and the fractured existence we live in now began.
Supposedly my memories are encapsulated in a book Prism of Lyra, but I may never find time to read it as busy as I am. :-)
But when my husband and I got together for me to finally try to find a serious researcher to help me get my memories back (which has largely been a directive almost as if it were an order), we came across how the MKultra program worked. Black Princess Programming, the screaming army, the map of one's soul... and how you're told lie after lie. How you are infused with the soul of a fallen angel (which I finally decided I must be). And...
... my quest to seriously get someone to help me figure out this mess began.
Are you familiar with the story of Christmas Night, when Mother Mary and Joseph came to Bethlehem no inns had any room? So they went from door to door, seeking but never finding until Mary and Joseph finally bedded down in a manger - which is basically a barn filled with animals. That night she gave birth - which leads me to consider perhaps she was already in hard labor by the time they were being turned down left and right for a place to stay. Which makes me think the inns were probably more worried about their bedsheets than a spare room.
That's sort of how it's been for me. When the most painful parts of this mess began, I was (unfortunately) involved with a large subculture called the Otherkin. Mind you, a good deal of them are okay folks - but then there are a select few who prey on the others. And I'd fallen into their trap. My head had been tampered with, and I - giddy from the drug of their attention - gleefully listened when I was told more and more about my supposed past life. I ate it up. But none of us knew what was awakening.
So that when small things began to happen - like I managed to be able to throw energy bolts that could actually move objects - we thought it was because I was manifesting. Or at least I thought so. I'd like to give the others the benefit of the doubt: perhaps they didn't know either.
But when my world crashed and I was flooded with a horrible memory that I can only call the Pit and my "inner self came forward from the past" to take my body over, they threw me away. After all the damage they'd done - like a broken toy. And I had to heal alone.
These days I know what happened was the tampering triggered fail-safes people like me have built into them by the "masters". They'd awakened Black Princess programming - something I'll get into another day - and I became very very dangerous to deal with. I'm a very very different person all these years later. And I'd sooner see those people hanged than made better: it's not in my matrix to feel any other way.
Since then I've went from person to person to person. I've tried major ones like James Bartley and Barry Gaunt. Literally all of them, save one (Eve Lorgen but she's unable to help much), were dead ends. Usually it's because I didn't want to accept Jesus as my lord and savior. In one case it's because I wasn't famous enough to get his attention and hold it. One quit researching to focus on ghosts. And all of them found my way of approaching descriptions and how I see the universe weird at best.
So today I sit here writing this blog because I just don't know any other way. Years ago when my heart broke and I was thrown out on my ear, I tried to find mental help and no one would help me. I had to help myself. Here I am, trying to help myself again.
Who am I? What have I done? And which parts of me can I reclaim? Most importantly: is this real?
Dorica Manu was sent an email with the flash stimulation exercise results days ago. Usually she answers within a day. She's been quiet.
Well, she'd already bit my head off because when she'd first offered to help me I'd been very careful about it. I'd asked a lot of questions about the process - remembering what had happened with those Otherkin years ago. She'd decided I was fucking with her and told me quite sternly she didn't have time to be fucked with. So perhaps my results were too weird for her, and like so many people I've known decided I made it up.
She might respond still. But I've lost hope on the matter.
The things I mention here are "past life" memories, of course: things I've known and remembered since I was about 14 years old. The memories came upon me bit by bit. and I fully believed in them with a faith that could barely be shaken. But it was shaken, in the end, when I found out the truth about MKultra. When I found out what may be the truth about myself.
The main question I have in my rather normal quest of "who am I?" is: what part in my head is the lie and what part is the truth? This is why I started digging into my head. This is why I started reading articles, books, and reports by whistle blowers. Because we are the sum of our memories and experiences, and I no longer know if my personal sum has been concluded in error.
I could spend a lot talking about who I thought I was in this post, but I think perhaps it's best to nutshell so that I can concentrate on other thoughts that will undoubtedly tie into it later. I was "told" by the information in my head that I was a slave. But also, I was a princess: the last of my kind from the original homeworld of all sentient life ages ago. Some people would then regard me as a Lyran, and I've met a lot who decided I must be angelic. Then of course there are those who taste my primal energy, it's dark flavor, and decry me as evil. I've even been kicked out of card reader booths, smudged in people's homes, and attacked by no less than two separate holy roller churches to be exorcised.
Whatever others decide I am, for me the real importance has been more where I've been. Perhaps it's my Indian (feather not dot) upbringing that had to play with that - a person is who they are not where they stand or who their grandfather was. I think it helped me, this philosophy, so that I remember towering pink granite structures, winged dragon teachers, a flight path to a planet on the other side of a black hole, and a lot more. I also remember the day everything died and the fractured existence we live in now began.
Supposedly my memories are encapsulated in a book Prism of Lyra, but I may never find time to read it as busy as I am. :-)
But when my husband and I got together for me to finally try to find a serious researcher to help me get my memories back (which has largely been a directive almost as if it were an order), we came across how the MKultra program worked. Black Princess Programming, the screaming army, the map of one's soul... and how you're told lie after lie. How you are infused with the soul of a fallen angel (which I finally decided I must be). And...
... my quest to seriously get someone to help me figure out this mess began.
Are you familiar with the story of Christmas Night, when Mother Mary and Joseph came to Bethlehem no inns had any room? So they went from door to door, seeking but never finding until Mary and Joseph finally bedded down in a manger - which is basically a barn filled with animals. That night she gave birth - which leads me to consider perhaps she was already in hard labor by the time they were being turned down left and right for a place to stay. Which makes me think the inns were probably more worried about their bedsheets than a spare room.
That's sort of how it's been for me. When the most painful parts of this mess began, I was (unfortunately) involved with a large subculture called the Otherkin. Mind you, a good deal of them are okay folks - but then there are a select few who prey on the others. And I'd fallen into their trap. My head had been tampered with, and I - giddy from the drug of their attention - gleefully listened when I was told more and more about my supposed past life. I ate it up. But none of us knew what was awakening.
So that when small things began to happen - like I managed to be able to throw energy bolts that could actually move objects - we thought it was because I was manifesting. Or at least I thought so. I'd like to give the others the benefit of the doubt: perhaps they didn't know either.
But when my world crashed and I was flooded with a horrible memory that I can only call the Pit and my "inner self came forward from the past" to take my body over, they threw me away. After all the damage they'd done - like a broken toy. And I had to heal alone.
These days I know what happened was the tampering triggered fail-safes people like me have built into them by the "masters". They'd awakened Black Princess programming - something I'll get into another day - and I became very very dangerous to deal with. I'm a very very different person all these years later. And I'd sooner see those people hanged than made better: it's not in my matrix to feel any other way.
Since then I've went from person to person to person. I've tried major ones like James Bartley and Barry Gaunt. Literally all of them, save one (Eve Lorgen but she's unable to help much), were dead ends. Usually it's because I didn't want to accept Jesus as my lord and savior. In one case it's because I wasn't famous enough to get his attention and hold it. One quit researching to focus on ghosts. And all of them found my way of approaching descriptions and how I see the universe weird at best.
So today I sit here writing this blog because I just don't know any other way. Years ago when my heart broke and I was thrown out on my ear, I tried to find mental help and no one would help me. I had to help myself. Here I am, trying to help myself again.
Who am I? What have I done? And which parts of me can I reclaim? Most importantly: is this real?
Dorica Manu was sent an email with the flash stimulation exercise results days ago. Usually she answers within a day. She's been quiet.
Well, she'd already bit my head off because when she'd first offered to help me I'd been very careful about it. I'd asked a lot of questions about the process - remembering what had happened with those Otherkin years ago. She'd decided I was fucking with her and told me quite sternly she didn't have time to be fucked with. So perhaps my results were too weird for her, and like so many people I've known decided I made it up.
She might respond still. But I've lost hope on the matter.
No comments:
Post a Comment