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".

Blanche

Dr. Karla Turner pointed out one day that the only fact we had about the experiences abductees describe is that these experiences are verbal tellings of what has been perceived. The problem is that the aliens, and these days the military, have the ability to control what is perceived, to make the abductee believe they are going through something completely different. So it is that we see a beautiful woman instead of a hungry Reptilian, or think we're giving a speech when really we're being experimented on.

When I was a child I lived in fear of my dolls, because I knew they were going to come and try to kill me. I had a doll that was about 2 feet tall; one of those dolls that's meant to be a life-size buddy to a small child. That doll freaked me out. I woke up many times in the night thinking she was right next to me by the bed, reaching for me to grab me.

Back then my family was extremely poor. Our trailer had been repossessed at one point, and my father had converted an old school bus into a passable home. We had all lived in it at one point. Then my parents managed to get another small trailer, which they placed at the near front of our 1 and a quarter acre while the bus stayed in the far back. The bus was then divided into two rooms; one for me, and one for my older brother.

There was an entire yard away from my bedroom and the trailer where my parents now lived with my youngest brother. I was already an insecure child who felt abandoned. So when my dreams were pervaded with images of bright lights, of me clinging to the bus door and screaming while I tried not to be sucked into that horrible light, I basically became a nervous wreck. Getting me to go to bed became a fight between me and my father, who'd yell and scream and finally resort to violence while I wept and told them how terrified I was.

Couldn't I just sleep on the couch? No. To bed with you.

But I perceived my predators as my dolls - which I now know is a common thing. Many people perceive them as dolls. I have memories of countless nightmares where I'd be in bed and a doll would be on the bed waiting for me. Even though it appeared to be a harmless Barbie or baby doll, my reaction would always be one of abject terror. The doll was there to do evil to me. To kill me, or hurt me horribly.

When I was younger I could scream myself awake, but there was one time the doll said, "Go ahead and try to scream." And I tried. I kept trying. But no sound ever came out again.

This is the power of the perspective that they use to hold power over you.

When I was 14, to my knowledge a succubus came through one of the mirrors in my bedroom and wooed me. He wooed me a long time; took me places, things like that. He was a pale man with curly blond hair. I called him George because back then I called everything George.

One night he asked me to marry him, promising me great beauty if I said yes. (He dressed an image of me in a white Sioux wedding dress with romantically long fringe, pale brown hair, and a perfect figure.l) I said yes at first, but then this woman came from far away and claimed to be one of my ancestors and got me to say no. I'll never forget the hurt on George's face. It was like that moment in the Labyrinth when dummy spoiled girl says "You have no power over me."

And then he proceeded to haunt my bedroom and drive me outright nuts. Throwing things at me, making the room cold in the summer, etc. Dad got mad and told him his ass was just as good as kicked, and I never saw nor felt George again.

But I also stopped having my period. Mind you, I'd only had one and sometimes a girl doesn't have another for a full year. But my belly got bigger and my mother kept asking if I was pregnant (and you know, I was a kid I had no idea) and then one night I dreamed the men in suits came and took my child from my body. It was a girl. They let me see her and then they took her away.

And from then on every time I went to that "other world" I'd do what I was there to do, get relieved for the night, and waltz happily over to the nursery, pick up my young'un, and make a run for it. :-) In that fashion I got to watch her grow up, sorta - so it's hard to say if she's a figment of my imagination or not.

But somewhere along the way I decided her name was Jennifer, after Guinevere, because she looks like her pale father. I'm not sure what they call her. That's my name for her.

Thus. Jennifer White - this name is my badge of experience perceived.

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.

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Just my philosophy on finding your soul mate - what with Valentine's Day coming and all. -and an old channeled Fishbowl report. If I had more time to do things, it would not be an old Fishbowl report because it would be on the 'net by now. But. It's an old Fishbowl report. This is all old footage from 2009, and it might stay that way until 1. I catch up and 2. my stolen camera is replaced somehow. Being as insurance companies are all thieves, I suspect that's not happening anytime soon. =^-^=

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.



 

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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.

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There isn't very much by the way of profound in this vlog. I just took a moment to put together a quickie for the sake of making sure my vlog had something fresh and certain events with the Fishbowl (the Council of NIne... the Intergalactic Federation... whatever you wanna call it) were recorded... because I like having stuff recorded. I do mention George Kevassalis, but only because it's part of what happened. Sorry I'm not as... eeeh.... number-saavy as some folks.

No really. I care. I swear I care. I know it doesn't show on my impassive and uncaring face, but I care! I do!!

I even blipped out most of the swear words this time. =^-^=

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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.

 

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Okay so in this blog I talk a few minutes about one of the departments with the Council on High. Then I talk about Lyrian (and Intergalactic history) while making references to Narnia. Because I'm clever like that.

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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.

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I talk about a past life memory in which I was cajoled into coming to Earth among other things.

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This is the third episode in my video blog series. I only wanted to put it here to make sure it was with the others. Please donate through Paypal to help keep me running. Being able to keep my home means more episodes. If everyone who saw this episode donated a buck fifty I would even have the money to keep job hunting with. Or someone can just commission me. Freelance artists ho.