MY SOUL FLEW HOME.

1997 (Date estimated: back entry taken from my grimoire before it decayed entirely)
A vision/dream.

MY SOUL FLEW HOME.

I think this was the first time I've come home since I slept to astral travel out and search for Juvinich.  I did that lifetimes ago, and I stepped to earth as I always have been; an adolescent, the Earth equivalent of 14 years old, and small.

I walked down from the mountain and to my castle.  All around me was lush vegetation; the plant leaves were enormous and succulent.  I went to the back of the castle, which was covered in vines and overgrowth as if it had been in ruins for a very long time.  This was a definite change (in my mind) from when the place was inhabited and cared for.  I remember noticing how brown everything was.  I entered through a small side door; a servant's entrance and not well-known.  I had often used this door when not wanting to be noticed.

I walked through the halls, noting the disrepair of my home, and suddenly the regent came around the corner.  He was a redhead with wiry hair and a beard.  He stopped short and exclaimed, "You're back!!" as if overjoyed, and then he encased me in a bear hug.  Immediately, he called for servants (there were only three) and arranged to have me cared for.  We walked through the audience chamber, and sitting in my mother's chair was the regent's daughter.  She was blond and her hair flowed like shining silk.  She was not happy that I had returned and complained loudly.  She must have been in her twenties.

They put me in my old room, and how overjoyed I was to see they had kept things the way I had them! It was a small chamber, and most of the decor was red-brown.  My couch was there - gods, how I miss my couch at times - and I immediately went to sleep on it.

Time passed, most of it with me spending time in my bedroom among my familiar things.  The regent spent a lot of time playing with me; he taught me this chess-like game.  I was aware he was acting like the father I had never had in that life, and I adored him for it.

Came a day - perhaps three days after my arrival, no more than a week - that I finally ventured onto my balcony that adjoins my bedroom.  I love that balcony.  I started to sway and dance to myself, and I began singing, in English, "I am the princess of Shiro, and I have come home." I was very aware that I had switched to English.

And then, I was picked up by an invisible force; the castle was rejecting me, it was trying to throw me off and dash me to my death on the ground below.  It was all I could do to cling to the wall and repeat, "I rebuke you I rebuke you I rebuke you," over and over again as if I were fighting a demon.  When I realized I could not rebuke the castle - the very thing I commanded by rights - the force stopped.  I picked myself up and the regent came.

"Who are you really?" he demanded.  "The castle would not have rejected the REAL princess!  Who are you?!"

Somehow, I knew the regent's daughter had gone into the controls of the castle to try to throw me off, but I said nothing about that.  Instead, I opened my mind in the old way of communicating through mind/dream speech.  I began to tell the regent what had befallen me after I had left.  It began with me selling myself to the winged folk in the caves for the sake of my people, and working my way up through their army until I was a great general of much trust and importance.  The winged folk would send me to destroy and conquer - I was very good at it.

And then came a day that I was transporting my people via starship from one destination to another.  (Think trains for Comanche and Lakota Indians.)  I knew the kingdom's regent was on-board, so I went down to visit him.  I opened the door and... to my horror... the regent was sitting on a cell bench, but he had died ages ago and all that was left was a skeleton with a red beard.  I ran to the cargo hold and opened the doors to behold my people - the people I had sold myself to save - and what had been done to them.  Genetically manipulated, all of the people who were once revered to be the most shining and beautiful creatures in the cosmos were monsters such as ogres, walking skeleton creatures, and distorted things turned inside out.

I was furious.  I made a speech. I was passionate.  I cried, "Let's fight!" and they cheered.  I opened the cargo bay doors, and they streamed by the hundreds out into the ship to attack my own regiment.  I turned to my second in command, a blond young man with a somber/troubled expression, and said, "So begins my rebellion."  I would have returned my thoughts to the regent to face his shock or wrath, but I found myself being wrenched out of the dream instead.  I fought it; I didn't want to leave my home, but after much fighting I opened my eyes to (my ex-husband).  He had woke me and complained he had to send his demon to wrench me back to Earth.

Dammit, I was home.  The place needs me, I was home, and (my ex-husband) wouldn't let me stay.
________________
This vision/dream happened to me at a time when I was just beginning to truly explore what was in my head. In a sense it's where my story begins and is probably where I should have started this journal. My home was a place in the stars very far away and my people, as far as I believed, had been decimated in a huge invasion by "the black shelled beasts" who enslaved us and scattered the empire to the winds.

It was much much later I learned that among the UFO community there was the legend of the Lyrans that matched my story - well, except for the Pleiadian-born propaganda about the people having been too warlike as a reason why they fell apart. The way I remembered it, we chose to remain neutral and did not act to save our outlying regions which were falling prey to invasion and persecution by a new race of beings on the outside.

Also at the time there was a plague happening, something I came to call the "soap bubble disease." Basically people would just suddenly fall sick and fade away. I thought maybe it was because their souls were too old and were popping like decrepit bubbles. I had memories of watching my father fade and then my older brothers - and that the rest of the family had also met to tragic end after tragic end so that it was only me and my mother at the end.

I was the only survivor among my siblings. 

So we as a race acted to create a bridge between us and our enemies.... and to try to save our dying creed.  That was how I and my siblings came to be. We were created with immortal souls, a genetic blend of all races. We were the symbol of unity. My mother was from one of the more oppressed races and had been married in to my father. It was very important that he had midnight black hair - that black that's rare even among humans today - and she was a fiery strawberry redhead. I had my father's hair. Something I also learned much later was how black hair was reserved for the Lyran nobility, so again another match.


She wore a grieving mask - which was traditional like we would wear black today. As a small child watching her pass by me in the hallways of our large "ant hill" I was given the impression that being forced to be queen made her sad. Now I'm older and I think it was much more than that.

(Stop me if I've talked about this here before. I honestly forget what I've talked about and what I have not; it gets confused in my mind.)

So these memories stand and have always stood foremost in my mind, like a beacon summoning me into my future.

My older brother and I were talking on the phone today, and the subject of these things and how we used to look forward to our roles in the future came up. He complained that someone had tampered with the plan. Things had fallen behind, some things had been changed. And our roles had been diminished.

But I look at this ever bright memory in my mind and how things are happening today and I'm just not sure. We expected one thing out of fate, the cosmic plan, and our lives without really understanding what we were being "told". So we interpreted things according to our juvenile fantasies. But I look at how things are happening, at where I stand today, and where others stand, and I think things are happening just as we expected them to be... from the government oppression to starvation in the streets. They're all things I wanted desperately to avoid, tried frantically to find a way off planet to avoid them by, and am now watching at the age I was told they would happen. My feelings about leaders and acts of Congress are the same now as they were at the age of 10 - I just understand why I felt the way I do now. So that watching history unfold around me has given myself a deeper understanding of myself and my memories more than anything.

And that bright memory which I got to relive quite literally in 1997 still calls me home... the thing that has changed for me is I no longer want to go "home" in order to escape this mess. I want to go home - there - because it's a place I can do something about things.

My How the Mighty have Fallen

Religion is not a good thing if you want to move beyond your shell and fly into the cosmos. It keeps you from learning, and in many respects it even dumbs you down. Ironically the moral structures are usually quite good ones. But take most morals, wrap them in religion, and you've got the perfect brainwashing program. 

Because of this I feel Christianity being used to "free" people from abductions or the MKultra programs only makes them believe they're free while re-enforcing the patterns, commands and numbness. People turn to these programs and later report they're not getting picked up anymore, but is this true really? I think it's more that they don't *remember* being picked up anymore.

After all, it's our human minds that are being tampered with. When we remember something that happened, it's usually coupled with religious overtones of some sort. Or fear. Something used to put us into the control pattern.

So you pray about it. And when you pray, you're entering a semi-meditative state while putting out a command your subconscious remembers. So it stops on some level for you.  But there are abductees who can attest that although your memories are blocked out once again, it doesn't stop at all.

There are people who portray aliens as demons, and because Western culture hasn't completely made that mental connection between "demons are a fairy tale" to "aliens match the description of demons almost perfectly but are physical" there seems to be a short circuit when the information is relayed to other people. So some people consider aliens to be noncorporeal, fourth dimensional beings that can phase in and out between layers while others consider demons to not be aliens at all. The whole schematic problem between the old word "demon" and our current word "alien" is a giant brick wall, and no one seems to be able to step through or around it.

It's time people got a grip.

They have technology that allows them to walk through molecular objects, but that doesn't make them so beyond our level of existence that they're more alien than alien. They're very physical. They can be fought back against. They can be shot. And they're certainly physical enough to grab you to pump out your stomach juices, subject you to sexual experiments, and take you aboard their very physical space craft for a quick tour.

And because they're physical, meditation and prayer isn't going to stop them. You can be sitting by your bed praying as devoutly as possible,and they'll still walk right in, pick you up and walk you outside while you keep praying.

I don't feel any religion used as a tool to stop abductions is the right approach. Rather, I think they simply just flat need to be stopped. Abductions are a physical phenomenon. Then obviously we need a physical way of blocking them.

Today, as if to highlight my point of view, my mother reminded me of where my family stands in the realm of the metaphysical. "Did you know you guys live only an hour from Cassadaga?" I'd asked her on the phone.

"What's that?" she asked me.

Cassadaga was established about one hundred years ago in Florida as a sister psychic community to another place of the same name in New Jersey. (Or was it New York?) It's populated by only psychics, and I read recently that you're not allowed to live there without passing a series of tests.

My mother said, "I don't believe in that stuff."

You used to, Mom. When I was a kid before my little brother was born, Dad used to make pendulums using a pencil, needle, and thread. You'd ask what were my kids going to be, and you wrote the answers down and kept them in a wooden chest underneath the fish tank. You had books on astrology that I read nearly every day - especially the part about being a Sagittarius - and loved to watch UFO and ghost documentaries.

You once told me that you could sew a corsette from memory and had done so before when you were a teenage. You'd explained that you were French and your name was Aimie, and you were a seamstress back then. So you remembered how to make the clothes you sold for a living. And even today you sew when you can, and you're good at it too even though you're the first to tell people how you have not talent and can't do anything.

But then I found a "Cherokee" tribe in GA when I lived there, and I wanted so much to be a part of a larger red community than I knew. And I introduced you to them. They worship the "Creator" in a thinly-disguised Christian way, with a Christian pastor that preaches every Sunday,and you and Dad flocked to them. (And I used to beg you guys to go to church with me when I was a kid. Ha.)

Now I can't talk to you about hardly anything, and if I find myself needing a metaphysical answer my father is the last person I can turn to.... even though I carry his legacy on. You both only watching movies if it's about Indians, you won't hang with anybody unless they're Indian, you won't read a book unless it's about Indians, and really Mom. You're not even Cherokee.

I know what you are, because Gramma told me so. Tukaho, she told me. Tukaho and Irish. But one day I had you in the kitchen and you whined to me, "But I want to be Cherokee." And then just a few weeks ago you told me you were sure there was a direct Cherokee line in the familiy tree, you just couldn't find the connection to prove it yet - not even five minutes after sneering that we have a direct line to royalty in the family tree and can prove it far easier.

And Dad: we are Brotheron. I am a card carrying member of the Brotherton. Because that's what we are. We are NOT Cherokee. But that Cherokee cult has you.  All this after you embraced a religion. And our metaphysical drums were tossed to the fire.

I can find other examples of how religion holds mankind back. Take UFOlogy for example. It has become almost a religion. There are tenements to it that no one wants to break, even when information shows that they should be. That would go against the unspoken rule. And so the scientific process is buried under faith and belief.

We can break from our abduction chains only by realizing what makes us dumb, what keeps us from noticing what is around us.

It doesn't mean you have to stop believe in God. It's just that you have to recognize that God gave you the tools to free yourself. Prayer isn't one of them. Prayer is a communication device; it's a telephone. It's not a gun. But your god gave you a gun with which to fight, if you would just learn to use it. It's called reason.

That is step one to becoming free of the "masters".

Let us begin with....

Dorica Manu got in contact with me first thing yesterday morning and we had the session as was planned last weekend. I'm glad I hadn't completely lost hope in her: sometimes people do surprise you, even when you're used to 99% disappointment.

I thought perhaps I would speak about the session here, but I had another post planned before that - and after pondering if for a full day I realize I have to do the other post first. I have to start from the beginning so that those who choose to walk with me in this journey can understand fully where I am coming from. I've already mentioned this starting point, but while watching the lecture I mentioned before I knew I was going to have to put it down - to record that I already knew what I know. Because people so often call me a liar.

"I was born in a blue valley." That's how the story begins, and it's a phrase the Otherkin hated to hear coming from my lips. Back then I was in a rut: I had to tell this story over and over again, as if saying it just once didn't make it heard well enough. The truth is I didn't feel heard - and I probably wasn't, unless you want to count the three people who got to know me long enough to hear my origins and then claimed my story as their own. (Sick fucks that they were.) I still don't feel heard today, but I've long since grown past the need to tell this story repeatedly. So here, let me say it here - this time because I have to, not because I want to. At least it's well rehearsed.

I was born in a blue valley in, what I believed for most of my life, to be another planet far away from here. It was the capital home of what I've always described inside as "the shining empire" - and the valley housed "the Anthill", which was a naturally dug out tower of granite, the kind that flashed pink in the setting sun. That was what we lived in, above - and below us in the caverns dwelled the winged dragon people: large warm-blooded dragons with bird-like fur.

My word for that valley is Shiro - and no matter how I've tried I never have been able to find a name for the world itself. It was a blue valley because all of the plants had a blue cast to them - rather like Kentucky blue grass or a blue fir tree. It was a temperate climate with cool rains and short, mild winters. Old, tree-covered mountains surrounded the valley, which was dominated by a sweeping flat plain in which the Anthill stood.

I lived at the top of the Anthill, in a secluded room with a balcony that I stood upon to view the tiny village and golden grasslands below. Years ago I never thought to question why I'd need to be isolated from the rest like that, but now I think perhaps it's because my "makers" felt the need to protect everyone else from my presence. I was different: a hybrid, as it were - a successful one of multiple races and strange blood. In me burned the fire of a sun - and that's what I was, a baby star come to physical flesh and a world that didn't know what to make of it.

But we were humans - and avians - and so the proper term I suspect is "phoenix".

Mind you there were others like me, just as there are dozens that are better than me now. I wasn't unique, just different. I have a memory of my first conscious thoughts - opening my eyes from where I hung suspended in the row of tubes. We were created in sets of fives, and I was very aware of my brothers and sisters. The doctors walked by and did their rounds, checking and always checking. And soon after I first awoke for the first time I reached my energy tendrils out and pulled in the sleeping essence of my siblings back into myself where it belonged: I was not meant to be a tendril. I was not meant to be split. I belonged whole, so I fixed it in my own way. I ate them.

My particular parents - the ones who gave their DNA, eggs, and money for my birth - were the rulers. My father was dark of hair and eye. I barely remember him. There was a plague back then, the plague that actually facilitated the creation of monsters like myself. I've always called it the Soap Bubble disease, because our souls had grown so old and the DNA matrix could no longer support their energy. So like old soap bubbles that float in the air, the souls would pop into nothing. My father died of it. During that time I remember an older brother who also died of it - wasted away on his couch bed with no one nearby, because no one knew what to do.

My mother was a redhead, and this somehow was special. My only memories of her are watching her walk by me as I played in the hallway - she was always so sad. After my father was gone, she put on the Mask of Sorrow - which was a custom, kind of like a mourning veil but it was a stupid mask - and barely spoke to anyone. Certainly not to me. So most of my adult interaction was with the regent - also a redhead. He taught me a chesslike game and was more a father to me than my real one.

There are other memories from this time, but they've always remained undefined. I know I was "exiled" for a short time for being a pain in the ass. I was sent away to a school where I felt even more out of sorts than I did at home. Then I was allowed to return. I don't really remember what my crime was.

I naturally took to weapons of war and not peace - something which drove my elders batshit crazy. There was a building in the back far behind the Anthill where weapons were kept: these gun things that worked like bows and shot heat. Sort of like what the Reptilians use today. I snuck into it and got one of them and was target practicing with Juvinich (my word for him), a boy who'd come as my friend. I accidentally burned down one of the trees that my father had had imported from "Earth". That caused a ruckus.

I loved Juvinich dearly: too dearly. When I was a kid, remembering this stuff, I mistook my memories of these feelings to be a puppy love. But now I have to wonder; was it that sort of love or just an intense fondness for the only person of age who was willing to be a friend?

Although there was at least one other friend: a young dragon girl who, here on Earth with me, remembers some rather amusing things about what a trial I was to raise.

I remember being very small, probably about the equivalent of four years of age, and coming to Earth with my father. The place we landed, also in the mountains, was scraped raw and muddy. There were people tilling the land and building things. My father and a few other men were in a room discussing things. There was a glass-encased balcony there and I stood at the glass, watching things below. My father came and gently picked me up. He said, "Don't fall now" and carried me back to where they were.

And I remember when everything fell apart.

I knew there was political upheaval: you can't miss it when your mother is continuously in the council room seeing people and everyone is upset over nothing. I was probably about 14 of age (equivalent) at the time. I also know we had chosen to remain neutral against what was going on - but I couldn't tell you just what it was.

I had developed the sneaky habit of disappearing on my tutors or whatever it was I had to do that day and hiding in the grasslands. I liked to lay in the grass and feel the sunlight warm my body. I was there that day when the ships came out of the sky. I remember being in the grass, which was over my head, and looking up to see them in flight formation.

They were black, triangular, and sharp. They swooped down on the Anthill and opened up on the people below. I started running home - what else could I do? - as the ships swooped by again and again and again. I got to the edge of the Anthill courtyard just in time for my mother, who was running to see me. She started to run towards me and I her - and that's when one of the ships fired her in the back. Her blood spurted all over my pale blue satin slippers.

So I stood there in shock in front of my mother's dead body, watching everything happen around me. I probably would have died there and this would be the end of my story had it not been for Juvinich, who grabbed my hand and pulled me away from everything. The Anthill was situated very close to the foothills and mountains, so he took me that way. We didn't stop fleeing until we could turn and look over things from a safe vantage. And that's how I watched as the firing stopped, the ships landed, and the survivors were loaded up to be taken away. Probably into slavery - that's what I thought when I was younger.

Juvinich and I stayed deep in the forest on the mountain - there was a cave there - for a long time. One day he left me to live alone. And I stayed that way a long time with  nothing but a few pets to keep me. I learned to hide well: if I saw a ship in the sky I disappeared as quickly as I could.

One time I went down to the emptied anthill and walked the halls. I danced in the ballroom to myself, remembering a party from my childhood. Heh. That stupid movie Anastasia - I've remembered that moment for most of my life. When I saw that similar ballroom scene in Anastasia, I was caught between outrage that it was in the movie and pain at the reminder.

One day the loneliness was too much. I put myself to sleep and astral traveled outward. I met a "Glowbright" in the other realm, who brought me into his mouth, swallowed me, and spit me out as an "angel". But I remained different - because I had to be. I thought I was the last of my kind.

When there was some trouble in Glowbright Land, I fled for my life. I passed the layers of existence until I came back to this 3rd plane and found Earth. I remembered it and zeroed in, came to land here and to my surprise found DNA that was still close enough to me that it could house my energy well. And I've been on Earth ever since, after a fashion. I rarely go anywhere else. This is my home and my star.

But these memories may not be real, you see? There's a lot more to them - a lot more - and when I watch some researcher put together the galactic history of DNA or some other cogness I usually nod my head. Or shake it, saying "Well, they're close but no cigar!"

But if it could be put in my head as an implanted memory, it could be put in other people's heads - where the pieces are coming from.So.

Intergalactic Historic

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.

Jaded in Jacksonville 16

Well, my camera was stolen but I still have things on my hard drive to process and get out.

This is where I took an old rant from last February and cut it up. It's complete with caustic comments, angsty stances regarding getting people fired from the Council on High, news updates involving recent visions, a speech from John F. Kennedy, and macro scenes from my front yard. I was pretty mad at a lot of UFO type people that week due to stumbling across some bigoted jerks, so I was just kind of shooting off at the mouth. This is actually only part of the rant footage. I still have more to work on here to get off my hard drive.

I try to use only work and music I find from open source avenues - so if it was marked as open source, I pretty much thought it was alright. As a result, all of my Jaded in Jax files are open to use under the fair rights act as well as for your own derivative works. Not that anything I do is good enough for that.

Jaded in Jacksonville 14

Ever wonder about what you're here to do on this Earth? Just what is your role? What are all our roles? Okay, yeah, I'm not claiming to have the answers. A wise man is a man who never claims to be wise,. =^-^= But I do give a clue on how to find the answers within yourself in this particular vlog. As well, Choshu discusses her role with the Council on High (Intergalactic Federation or Council of Light or whatever it's being called this month) while we see some nifty footage of the Buddha Temple in Tampa, Florida.

 

Jaded From Jacksonville 11

What happens when a golden angel melts into you and you accept your Role for this World? Ha. I can't answer that for you, but I did tell the story of what happened for me.