Experiences
I feel an obligation to share all of this with you. This writing is a chronological account of personal and corroborated experiences, research, and implied necessity towards action which has compelled committal on my part towards certain efforts. As time has gone on, my conceptualization and comprehension regarding the topics and research presented has grown immensely. It is difficult to emphasize how much of a struggle it can be to record and articulate these things in digestible ways, and my intention for this writing is for it to be an ongoing documentation of developments and insights, as has been expressed to me through experience. I would like to request that readers be patient as I catch this writing up to present and to not be hesitant to make contact if more information or communication is desired.
There are stigmas that exist surrounding these topics, so I wish to encourage the reader to practice caution with their conviction and possess a willingness to be open, teachable, and reachable. It is natural for discomfort to dissuade us from developing a stronger bond with what is actual, bringing us ever farther from understanding, which inhibits our personal and collective development and wellness. The comparisons, parallels, and speculations drawn in regards to faith or belief are not meant to challenge, but rather to evaluate in account of what I hope to profess, aiming to create more common understanding. I also want to compel each reader to independently research the references and topics discussed to show that there does indeed appear to be some actuality and validity as to how some of these things seem to connect.
My experience has affected me beyond measure, and my prior lack of ability to find answers has provoked me to catalogue my encounters and experiences so that others may benefit from having known about them. Everything that I am going to share has really happened, and due to how deeply this has all affected me, I’m going to request that only serious responses result from it. I will not claim anything is fact that isn’t, and I understand how skeptical and hesitant some of you may be. Since I am practically bearing my soul by writing this, I would appreciate that my openness be responded to with kindness and respectful discussion.
In order to establish some credibility in regards to my mental health and ability to distinguish fact from fiction, I wish to share that I have my Bachelor’s in Community, Family, and Addiction Sciences, my Master’s in Counselor Education in Clinical Mental Health, and I’ve completed nearly half of a PhD in the same subject. I am also a Licensed Professional Counselor Intern in the state of Texas. While it is warranted to suspect that these happenings could be attributable to mental illness, the abundance of witnesses I’ve had with me throughout the years, the applicable research that I would later find is likely representative of the phenomena I’ve been experiencing, the corroboration of suspicions as a result of following up with more knowledgeable elders within tribes, and my educational and professional credentials would hopefully avail me some credibility in discussing and interpreting these matters. There also exists a possibility in my mind that the experience, credentials, and ability to articulate what follows in this writing could be by design.
In early spring of 2008, some things began showing up in the sky around me that didn’t behave like planes, helicopters, or satellites. Some were accompanied by overwhelming and deeply personal feeling connection, and strange but relevant and impactful dreams started soon after. My experiences had been happening for a decade at the time I began writing this in the late summer of 2018, adding information and experience as my story has progressed. I had long felt that what I had been experiencing could potentially be attributable in likeness to ancient cultural and religious depictions of aerial phenomena, and many of the spiritual undertones and connotations I’ve gathered from my experience feel overwhelmingly representative of the essences expressed in those accounts.
I will list all of what has happened chronologically since 2008 when these experiences began, with regular additions to catch the writing up to present. I am learning as I go, and do not claim to have the all the answers in relation to my experience or what it indicates. I make no claims as to what is responsible for these things, yet the arrived upon speculative conclusions through research and contemplation are logical and plausible, even if they are difficult to accept as potential truth. Please respect my wishes and be open to what I’m going to share, as the expressed significance and implications could hold much deeper weight and importance than simply reading through my personal account of these topics.
My first experience happened between March 10–15 of 2008. I can’t give a specific date because I was up for four days after this due to how badly it shook me. I was living with my mother on the southern edge of Tuscaloosa, AL, next to Moundville, AL. If you want to look it up on a map, this happened right next to Shelton State Community College in the Englewood neighborhood.
There were a couple of friends whose house I left that lived near where my mother and I were living, and I remember I walked out at exactly 4:00 A.M. I was working at a movie theater and frequently closed, so I was always up at these kinds of hours. As soon as I walked out of their house, something caught my eye to the left of me. I looked over and there was a red/green/blue/yellow/orange/white strobing flashing light. The colors and flashing were so rapid that I was frozen staring at it. The moon was very large and low in the S/SW, and the craft was drifting SE from the west and flew in front of the moon behind my friends’ house.
The outline of the craft was like a teardrop/sunflower seed/oval type shape with the pointed end at the front. It looked as though lights were only coming from the top half of the craft, as if it were projecting some type of light pattern upward. It also had a darker, thin, smooth line of exhaust that disappeared not too far behind it. My mother’s place was a 10 minute walk/2 minute drive, and it looked like it was about a half mile away, flying towards my mother’s place. I went inside and grabbed someone after it passed the moon, but it didn’t look unusual to him at that point.
I went home and looked out from my driveway in the direction from which the first one came. Creeping towards me over the horizon were two yellowish-white lights very low. I ran inside and grabbed my mom out of bed, and over the course of 20 minutes came five crafts. First came two, then two, and then one, a few minutes apart from each other, a couple hundred feet off the ground, doing maybe 15–20mph, completely silent directly over us. They each had two large circular bright white lights with a smaller red one between them in the back that dimmed and re-lit slowly.
We were frozen watching them cruise directly over us. The last one that flew over us flew lower and slower than the first four, and it made a noise. What I could best compare it to would be like the sound a hawk makes, mixed with a screaming bottle rocket, except digital, loud, and it made the sound twice. I immediately started crying because I didn’t know what I was looking at or heard, but my mother was with me and remembers this. I was up for four days after this happened because it shook me so badly.
From that point on, I looked up in the skies more frequently. My next experience wasn’t until a couple of weeks later. I used to smoke and was standing in the driveway around 2am with a cigarette and my Ipod nano. I got the urge to pause my music and turn on the backlight, then I waved my hand over the light to create a slight strobe pattern to see if anything would show. I got a strange feeling and looked around to see no cars, and then I looked up.
Directly above me, maybe twice the height of my single-story garden home, was the shape of a trapezoid with a thin dark red flickering and glowing outline, and smooth rounded corners. It pivoted around above me side to side, back and forth, making no sharp stops or sudden movements, but drifted more like water. I couldn’t move, and after about 10–15 seconds of watching this craft slowly dance above me, I very slowly raised my right hand above me to wave at it. After I did, it slowly drifted towards the highway, going S/SE, the same direction that the six crafts from the first night flew. It was low enough that as it drifted over the house I could see the top of the craft, and it was rounded on top with a red and white light, but the red one had a blinking pattern. It just drifted towards highway 69 south towards Moundville, AL.
I was very afraid to talk about what I had seen with people, and mostly kept it to myself after being hurt a couple of times. Not long after seeing the trapezoid, I had a dream that I originally thought was a premonition of the world potentially ending in 2012. In the dream, I exit these large double-doors, and there’s complete chaos and panic in the streets. Everyone was running to my left and I was downtown somewhere with older brick buildings, maybe 3–5 stories tall. The clouds were low, dark overcast grey moving fast to the left.
People were running and screaming while looking behind them, and when I looked up, this monolith tore the sky in two. It looked as if someone had covered an entire football field in cement 30 feet high, and the clouds funneled/bellowed off the sides of the craft as it tore the sky in two. After it passed, I don’t remember who I was talking to, but I remember looking down and saying “do you believe me now?” then I woke up. My heart was racing, I was sweating, couldn’t breathe, and was choking back tears. I hope what I saw in my dream I never get to see while I’m awake.
The next thing I saw was a couple months later, and this is by far the weirdest thing I’ve seen thus far. I was in the driveway smoking a cigarette at about 1:30 A.M., and I hear this sound, almost like TV static. I look around and almost directly over Shelton State Community College next to the neighborhood, I see this light blue vertical slit in the sky, probably 100 yards tall, with what looks like white fanning flames coming off the sides of it. It flickered like electricity, and then these smaller white crafts that resembled the first teardrop shaped one that I saw shot out from the slit to the left, each making a noise as it came out. There were maybe 15 that came out of it at varying heights, and then the bottom of the slit practically “zipped” up and it was gone. I still have no clue what I saw that night.
The next thing I saw was around August of 2008, and I was in Hoover, AL at the top of this apartment complex that climbed a hill. It overlooked a bluff that went all the way back down the hill with a pool at the top, and while hanging out with some people, I saw what looked like a snow-speeder from the Battle of Hoth in Star Wars hanging almost eye level over the bluff facing me. As soon as I saw it and squinted, it zipped off to the right out of sight without making a sound. It may have been the same shape craft as the trapezoid, which also could have been the rainbow light craft that I saw from the side the first night in March of 2008.
I’ll jump around a little and say that I’ve seen the trapezoid shape appear twice in the sky, solid LED white, where the front of the trapezoid stretched to about twice the length of the craft and then the back of it shooting towards where the front ended. I saw this once in 2008 and then again in 2011.
Besides the occasional streak, things were pretty quiet until the end of April 2009. I used to talk about the things I’d seen and my thoughts surrounding it with a select group of friends, and there was a guy named Adam that I had just met that needed a ride home down highway 43 N in Northport, AL next to Tuscaloosa. We stood in his driveway at around 3:30–4:00 A.M. having a smoke before he went inside, and having had discussions about my experiences, I asked him what his thoughts were about what we’d been discussing. He said, “I don’t know man, it’s pretty out there”.
All of a sudden, there was an intensely bright light that appeared over a hill through the trees. We were both immediately drawn to it, and we were making sure it wasn’t a helicopter or a tower, and it wasn’t moving and made no noise. I start looking around, and directly above us were two orbs pivoting around fairly high up. I nudged him and he looked up and freaked out a little, then I told him that this is what I had been telling him about, and encouraged him to wave at them with me. Once we did, the sky came to life.
There must have been a few dozen yellowish orbs flying around in all different directions with streaks shooting off in the distance. We were both smiling and blown away in awe. It was, up to that point, the most activity I had seen in one night. I saw him a couple of days later and asked him about how he felt about what we saw, and all he would say is he didn’t know what he saw, likely having to backtrack his experience to make the impact of the experience more livable. That was upsetting to say the least, yet I respect the disruptive consequence that experiences like this can create and the psychological need to ground oneself, regardless of the reality of the experience.
A few months later, after having some spiritual discussion with another friend on their back porch in Bessemer, AL, I saw orbs again. This time, it was just a singular light that would drift and brighten up to an intense orange, very low, moving slow, and completely silent only a few hundred yards away and maybe a thousand feet up. After drifting to the side for a few seconds and being so bright you couldn’t look directly at it, it would just fade out. We saw this happen a few times over the course of a couple of days. I haven’t seen anything like this since.
Word spread among our friend group that something had happened, which understandably drew skeptical criticism. A group of friends were laughing about it and I got cocky and said “do you wanna see a UFO?”, and they jokingly agreed and followed me to the back porch. I pointed up in the sky where the light that we had previously seen had passed, and they looked up to be met with the exact same display. They fell silent, and the main guy that had been making fun of it all turned a pale white and just walked away. It can be easy to joke about these things, but when confronted with something for which you have no rational explanation, even happening on demand, it must create some kind of mental fracture that can be difficult to confront.
I moved to west TX to go to Texas Tech in the summer of 2011. There were a couple select people who genuinely wanted to learn about what I’d experienced and I decided to take them out stargazing. We would head out east of town where there was little light pollution and always see something. There was one friend that I took out and we saw a streak that “swooped”. It was between the highway and us, dipped and swooshed towards the ground and shot back up with a blueish green tail that lit up with what looked like smoke bellowing/rippling off the back. We had also seen what I refer to as “blinks”, which is when a small white light would blip briefly, we’d point it out with the green beam laser pointer, and it’d move locations in that general area and kind of play with us pointing them out.
I had a dream in 2012 that I didn’t think until fairly recently would be connected to my experiences in any way. I was at an outdoor party/festival around dusk, and this shorter energetic blonde girl runs up and starts dancing with me, dancing so fast her hair hid her face. She was so energetic and lively that I couldn’t help but start dancing back. After a few moments, I get curious. I try to look at her face and then notice that she had antlers. I stopped dancing and she noticed me noticing her and she stopped. She looked up at me with big blue eyes and started to cry and ran away.
I did some research and found out the deer woman is a prominent figure in the folklore of many American Indian tribes. If you find out what she is, she’ll flee. She is a figure that’d try and seduce young men at parties and take them behind the bushes and then stomp them with her hooves. She is a cautionary tale that promotes sexual responsibility, but also represents the importance of relationships, not just sexual, but to ourselves and reality itself and everything contained therein. I have American Indian ancestry (we’re told Cherokee) and at the time was looking into getting my tribe card in order to help with educational expenses, and I felt at the time that she cried since I was only looking to benefit from my heritage in a financial way, but findings which I will discuss later may indicate much heavier and dramatic implications.
I found this article that talks about her, which also includes some interesting information.
I was showing that article to a girl that I had been talking to at the beginning of 2018, and I caught something I didn’t notice before. It says:
“There is a common Southeastern story that teaches us of our origins: that we were born of ancestors who came from the stars and mated with the people born from the earth, from the Mounds that still exist in the southeast today”.
I had long considered that the ancient astronaut theory might be true, yet I didn’t know that most American Indian tribes believed that their ancestors came from the stars. It took me 10 years to make the connection that the crafts from my first two experiences flew towards the Moundville Mounds in Moundville, AL after they flew over me, as if there was an attempt to illustrate this connection.
It wouldn’t be until summer of 2020 that I would discover that there are many cultures with figures of similar description. I spoke with an experienced shaman about my story, as I was understandably having difficulty with my experiences later covered in this text. He asked me if I had ever heard of “Elen of the Ways”, which I hadn’t. He encouraged me to research her, and I very quickly felt my stomach sink when I stumbled across this article. My mother’s side of the family has American Indian and British ancestry, and this antlered woman is regarded by the Celts as a sort of realm-gatekeeper. Having this figure represented in multiple cultures in my heritage and having a dream about her didn’t prepare me for what I would read next. I’ll include a link and a few excerpts in quotes:
“She is an antlered goddess who rules the Ways, the Roads, the Passages of human life, both physical and spiritual.”
“She is a Sovereignty Goddess who bestows the right to kingship on the one who will best steward the land, linking sovereignty to fertility and well-being.”
“In these dreams, a woman representing sovereignty appears and captures the heart of the dreamer. The dreamer then must undertake a quest to find Her and become the King who protects the land.”
“Elen, primeval Goddess, is the soul of the forest, the creator of tracks and paths, the facilitator of human and animal movement. The wellbeing of the land and the movement of the beings that live on that land are Her domain. She bestows balance between the varied energies of the land, its fertility and the cycles of our natural world.”
I wouldn’t discover this until 2020, and it wasn’t until early 2018 that I chose to start seeking answers and researching again what had presented itself to me through dreams and firsthand experiences.
In March of 2018, I was laying in bed with the girl that I had been talking to. It was around 2:55am and I got this jolt where a thought rose from the back of my mind forward. I checked the date and it was within the window of when my first experiences started. It was the morning of March 13th, and I told her how weird it was that I got the thought of it being within the window exactly 10 years from when my experiences started. American Dad was on TV and immediately after I said that, a character said “10 years…on the dot”. We looked at each other, I asked her if she wanted to go, and she said yes.
We went past Crosbyton, TX and were standing out of the car looking at the stars and taking it all in for about 10 minutes. Then we saw a streak swoop on the other side of the highway from us. It had a blue tail and was headed straight for the ground before it swooped and corrected going away from us. This was the only time I’d seen a streak hold its tail, and then it waggled side to side making ripples in the tail, almost like it was nodding “no”. The craft looked like it may have been trapezoid shaped, but it was definitely flat underneath. Unfortunately, we didn’t work out and I shortly after found a new girl that I’ll just refer to as K.
When it comes to relationships, my experience is something that I have to share because I can’t be transparent and authentic without having discussed it. I feel it relevant and necessary to share that during this time, I was getting my PhD in Counselor Education in Clinical Mental Health at Texas Tech, and each cohort has to put on a conference as a requirement of the program. The topic we were given was Social Justice and Advocacy Leadership Pertaining to Sustainability. Upon hearing that, I started imagining green architecture and how public leadership is dong a poor job of preparing the world for the consequences headed our way. Since Lubbock primarily survives off of Texas Tech, cotton, oil, and the Oglala Aquifer was getting depleted, I saw it as an ideal town to try and bring about sustainable redevelopment in preparation for whatever could threaten the local economy, and maybe set an example in the process. I was able to obtain the world’s leading green architecture engineer and consultant to be our keynote speaker and acted as the keynote coordinator for the duration of the conference, plus a lot of other responsibilities.
During this time and really since the beginning of that year, I had been putting a lot of thought into how much better the world can do things and managed to conceptualize some startups that I feel could massively help countless people if they could get off the ground, a link to which is provided below. I also did all of the logo designs and constructed this proposal. I share this with you because it feels like I may have been inspired or guided to come up with these things, and if implemented, could help usher in the change we’ve all been so desperately wanting.
K and I became close extremely fast, and she said that she wanted to see what I had been telling her I had been experiencing. Her and her family’s whole life was the Catholic Church, and I had been under the impression that what I had been experiencing might literally be the light that guided Moses through the desert type of stuff, and other references such as chariots of fire in the sky and multiple references from other cultures of similar depictions made me question the possibilities. I warned her that a few witnesses in the past hadn’t really been able to process or accept what they had seen and that I don’t pick whatever decides to show up, but she was still interested and somewhat excited. A few minutes before the clock struck midnight on the eve of Mother’s Day, we headed east on TX highway 82 until we reached the turn for McAdoo, TX. Along the way, I felt compelled to share with her a rendition of an Icelandic hymn by a group called Arstidir of Heyr Himna Smidur, an old Icelandic hymn of worship. Below is a link to the same video I played on the ride, and I’ll copy and paste the lyrics below that so the reader can understand the significance I had begun to perceive as we made our way East.
Listen, smith of the heavens,
what the poet asks.
May softly come unto me
your mercy.
So I call on thee,
for you have created me.
I am thy slave,
you are my Lord.
God, I call on thee to heal me.
Remember me, mild one,
Most we need thee.
Drive out, O king of suns,
generous and great,
every human sorrow
from the city of the heart.
Watch over me, mild one,
Most we need thee,
truly every moment
in the world of men.
send us, son of the virgin,
good causes,
all aid is from thee,
in my heart.
The wonder in her star-reflected eyes looking up out the window as we drove eastbound listening to this is something I’ll never forget. We pulled into a farmer’s field a ways up from the highway off an access road and got out of the car. I had gotten the impression that these things prefer to be experienced rather than documented, so I said “let’s leave our phones in the car…whatever we see we’ll see”. We saw a few streaks, and I signaled that we saw them with my phone light. After that, I had my most profound experience to date.
We were leaning against each other on the passenger door of the car focusing on it, facing south. There was a star in the sky that looked peculiarly bright, and it slowly turned from a yellow to an intense LED white and started to brighten. There were feelings that arose as it illuminated brighter that were like a crystal pure love I was not prepared for, and although it felt powerful enough to do whatever it wanted in its overwhelming presence, the gentleness and grace I perceived from it was like the most understanding hand you can imagine being placed on your shoulder in acknowledgment of all of your difficulties. There was nothing that could be hidden internally, and the inarguable fact that we were being shown something bigger than what I had seen in the past made me feel like things had changed and were getting stepped up.
It got so bright and large that the aura surrounding it took up a considerable portion of the sky surrounding it. Imagine the aura being as big as holding a basketball out in front of your face, and the color of the massive aura that surrounded it was this brilliant baby/powder blue. The closest resemblance that I could compare it to would have been the Bethlehem Star/star over the manger. The whole time it was lit all the way up, I kept getting in my head an overwhelming “behold”, which K said she didn’t perceive. After maybe a minute, it dimmed down and flickered as it dimmed. Having had experiences before, I start looking around to see if there is any other activity going on.
Off on the horizon SE from us, I could see what looked like stars hidden within clouds, like large out of focus illuminated fuzzy marshmallows with a haze that made it hard to focus on them. There was a line of five or six just slowly drifting to the right, but many miles away. Looking closely, it looked like there were three smaller lights breaking off of each of them that almost blossomed/bloomed away from the large lights as they splintered off.
The big fuzzy lights slowly made their way our direction and arranged themselves around us in a circle, all very low and equidistant apart from each other. We were in the center of a ring that was probably about a half-mile across, and above us was kept completely clear while outside the ring of these large fuzzy lights was completely overcast. Then, I looked up and it appeared as though the smaller lights had arranged themselves in a web or grid like formation above us, though I didn’t see them make their way in. It looked like a dome, or cathedral of stars.
The way that things were happening at their own pace, regardless if we were prepared, amplified how overwhelmed we both were with the experience, but there was an undeniably intentional display that was just for us, and both of us were internally on our knees over the sheer resonance and heightened emotional response from what was happening. We were speechless as this synchronistic display silently orchestrated itself above us, with stunning precision and choreography. It was like sacred geometry coming alive.
As this display came together, there was a lot of heavy wind but the nature that had been noisy around us when he arrived had gone completely silent. I looked up, and straight at the top-center of the dome of lights was a bright light in the very center that was larger and noticeably more luminous than the others. I told K to look up, and when she did, there started a cascade of light that was either refracted or given off once it passed each light in the grid. It flowed down from the top like a burning leaf, or a bubble popping in slow motion. As the wave of light flowed down, each light it passed gave off this purplish-blue flash, almost resembling the iridescence of a peacock feather.
As the wave flowed down, the color of the sky as it passed was noticeably darker. It seemed like all these lights had built up some kind of energy or field that was dissipating. It flowed down and cascaded around us until it reached the cloud line where the larger lights were. I had to ask her if it was really happening, that it wasn’t just me seeing this, and she said it was. Once the wave reached the bottom where the fuzzy lights were within the clouds, the larger lights inside the clouds just dimmed away, and the smaller lights above us kind of rose up with a sudden move, like jellyfish propelling, and then faded out.
I start looking around, and in the field we were in about 300 yards away, there was a light on the ground. It looked like a skinny pinecone about 10–15 feet tall, pointed tip up, glowing LED white. We asked each other if it was there before, and we both confirmed it hadn’t been. We focused on it for maybe a minute, and then it started to slowly rise off the ground to probably 20–30 feet with extremely precise movement, and then it started coming towards us with decent speed. Please keep in mind that this was the most dramatic and impactful encounter I had experienced after a decade, and no amount of disclaimer worded any way could have prepared someone for this. Being K’s first encounter, I became concerned for her wellbeing as the sheer energy of the experience itself was almost too much to physically handle. As it came towards us, without taking my eyes off of it I lean over and ask her if she wanted to leave, and she said yes.
Before sharing what happened next, I’d like to take a second to analyze what occurred and the potential deeper meaning of what we were shown. I had been under the impression that the stuff I had been experiencing could be responsible for depictions of supposed supernatural forces, inspiring the stories that led to the formulation of some religions and cultural legends. The resemblance of the first and last things we saw that night could have very well been the same forces responsible for the Bethlehem star and the burning bush. K’s dedication to the Catholic Church and being confronted with phenomena that resembled what could have contributed to the development of her faith must have been an incomprehensible proposition after this was her first experience with these forces. That being said, her reaction and gradual distancing from what appears to be reality in favor of emotional safety is unfortunate but understandable.
We got into the car and rushed in reverse to the access road that led back to the highway, and K had her face in her hands crying the whole time saying she wanted to go home but doesn’t remember it. I looked to my left to see if the light was any closer, and there was a light barreling down one of the crop rows towards us about 10 feet off the ground, closing in. It gave off enough light that I could see it pass over the uneven dirt below as it came towards us. From the front, it looked square, and it looked like there was one thin pink line, and one thin green line that crossed the front making an X. I don’t think we lost any time, but as we were approaching the stop sign, there was this calming, almost waking from a good dream feeling that overcame me. My heart rate slowed, and the air I was breathing became soothing. It was like a plume of serenity that seemed to materialize over us, and K was not handling well what had happened.
All I could think to do was to try to make K feel ok, and once we got to the stop sign on the highway she settled down, caught her breath and composed herself. She said that as long as she was in the car and we were on the main road, she was ok. We continued east and were looking up at the skies, and all of a sudden there was a pregnant doe in the road in our lane. Now, I don’t want to read too deep into what I’m about to tell you next. The fact that she never appeared to even notice us as we swerved to narrowly miss her felt extremely strange. It felt like the dream I had about the deer woman was intertwined with this somehow.
We both got tired after heading a few miles further east and decided to head back. All of what we saw the morning of Mother’s Day happened in less than a two hour span, and the entire time we were out there, not a single car drove by us on the main highway between Lubbock and Dallas. That morning, I couldn’t sleep because I had to process what happened, and K needed to completely emotionally reset so she slept not long after arriving back home. I liked walking my roommate’s dog, a boxer, and decided after sunrise I’d take him for a walk. The local favorite coffee shop for Texas Tech students was a few blocks away from where I lived that opened at 8:00am, so we left at about 6:45 A.M. There were a bunch of books that were gifted to me, none of which I read, by a guy named Paul that were stored on a bookshelf behind my couch. He and his wife used to be regulars at a restaurant where I was a server in Birmingham, AL. He listened to Coast to Coast AM and was into kooky stuff, and enjoyed hearing about what experiences I had been having up to that point. When he found out I was going across the country to go back to college, he decided to gift me a bunch of books from his personal library.
There was one book in particular that I spotted on the shelf. It was an older printing of Black Elk Speaks, and it almost spoke to me from off the shelf. This book had been sitting behind the couch for five years, and I was in my third place of living in Lubbock, so there is perceived intent behind it having been stocked where I would see it this particular morning. Having had recent connections painted to American Indian tribes, I decided to take it with me to start reading while we waited for the coffee shop to open. I tucked it under my arm, and we began walking. It was the golden hour, and it was really quiet out with no cars that passed us. I had trained my roomie’s dog to walk off the leash, and we made our way to the main road the coffee shop was on.
As soon as we turned the corner, there were a bunch of dove in the road, and one kind of cocked its head at us and looked at us peculiarly as we passed. Then, a squirrel appeared on the top of the fence to my left and ran behind my shoulder, which put the dog in pounce mode. I quickly blocked his path to shut him down from chasing it, and after consoling him to let him know he didn’t do anything wrong, we kept on. We crossed the street to the side that the coffee shop was on, and that’s when something extremely strange happened.
We heard a bunch of dove screaming, like sounding the alarm screaming. We both look across the street, and at 25th Street and Boston Avenue, the last residential row before businesses, there was a house with a large metal star above the front door with two small trees to the left that were stocked with an abnormally large amount of dove. We look over to where the commotion was emanating from wondering what was happening. After a few seconds of noise, out from behind this house slinked this grey fox with a dead black kitten in its mouth. I might be reading too deep into this, but I had just finished a year of my third mental health degree, which was a PhD. I had been investing in my education to get qualified to open sober living and halfway housing for addicts and people exiting incarceration. It was as if the black kitten represented the most predominantly incarcerated class in the U.S. and the fox represented predatory practice of them from a young age. Nature may have presented a metaphorical example of my career aspirations and why I have them. It now appears to have been a sacrifice by nature representing the death of darkness, which I’ll get into later.
This fox happily walked across the front yard of this house with its kill towards us, crossed the street to the side we were on not more than 20 feet from us, and seemed super prideful about what it had done, never passing a glance in our direction. With a dog twice its size off the leash and it not being the least bit disturbed by us being there, it was a very eerie thing to witness. The fox walked behind the house behind us and disappeared. The dog and I walked on, albeit a bit shaken and startled by the high strangeness of the previous seven or so hours, and hung a right towards a park a couple of blocks away. I sat in a gazebo and cracked open Black Elk Speaks. I began reading, and was shocked to find depictions of phenomena in the sky that closely resembled things that I had experienced and my thoughts regarding them on pretty much every page. I was shaken.
I wish to share a couple of examples of loose depictions that Black Elk described that may have been the same things I experienced. Below is a mockup I made in photoshop of the crafts that flew overhead the night of my first encounter. In my driveway, there were five crafts that flew over in three waves, two waves of two and the last by itself. This is what each of the first two waves looked like from underneath:
Although I couldn’t replicate the exact look since the white lights had a haze coming from them, Black Elk’s description of “brothers with reflective bison hoof necklaces crossing blood-tipped spears” struck a chord in me. He described the sound of happy horses neighing, which recalled the sounds the last craft made on the first night in 2008. He mentions hearing sounds that were like happy horses neighing that recalled the sounds the last craft made the first night in 2008. He also described horses of different colors taking their stables, as if to suggest he witnessed a synchronistic and organized display like what my girlfriend and I witnessed the morning of Mother’s Day 2018.
Between the pregnant doe, the fox and the kitten, and what is contained in Black Elk Speaks, it doesn’t feel like these things happened without intention. I also now feel confident that the spiritual component to what it is that I’ve experienced is much more closely intertwined with nature than I previously thought, and that the whole of reality is also nature. Through research, I found that the “Wakinyan” or “Thunder Beings” of traditional American Indian mythology may be the most established cultural representation to what it appears I’ve been experiencing, which is what Black Elk said he had experienced. Furthermore, research tells me that people that experience this kind of phenomenon in tribes are the ones that get guided to become medicine men and healers. Having been raised Jewish, approaching my early thirties, and having strong inclinations towards facilitating collective wellness, the vibes it had started to give me were suggestive in a messianic way and a bit unsettling.
With the nods of potential higher purpose bearing down on me, I felt I needed to share what I found and how it mirrored my own experience. After a decade of unexplainable experience, my most dramatic encounter to date with these things, and an implication of a much much bigger picture, it was the most difficult emotional time I’ve had in my life. My first initial response was, “no, no no no no….there’s zero chance this can be possible”, and had crippling anxiety at times wrestling with the difficulty of it all. Hopefully this difficulty can be understood in the sense of not just having higher implications, but if things were really intentionally connecting at the hands of a higher force, how could the person it was revealing itself to possibly be able to handle it? I then had the thought that if what had been revealing itself to me was those same forces from ancient writings, their intentionality and precision implies that they would cater their approach in a way that the recipient of the experience would be able to handle so that they could follow up and follow through. The immense implied obligation that these things imposed compelled commitment towards service, and promoted the thought that pursuit of the emphasized direction wouldn’t be unassisted.
After having a coffee and feeling so unsettled about all of this, I decided that the best thing I can do is go talk about it. I woke up K, who was asleep in my bed around 9:00 A.M. or so, and shared with her my recent findings in Black Elk Speaks. She agreed with me that the importance of all of it seemed very significant and agreed to go with me to go talk about it if I could find someone. Even though Black Elk was Lakota, mention of thunder beings exist across many different tribes, and the closest established one happened to be the Cherokee, which is the tribe with which I am told I share ancestry.
I probably tried a dozen different routes before eventually calling the Cherokee Cultural Heritage Center. A very kind woman answered the phone and I naively asked if she knew of any elders around the place that’d be willing to speak with me about my experience. She informed me that there were some elders that gave tours in the village, so I asked “will you take down my number so whoever is supposed to see it does?”, and one person got back to me. I expressed briefly what had been going on and what I wanted to discuss, and he agreed to set up a meeting.
We departed the morning of May 16, 2018, and after living in Lubbock for seven years at this point, I had never seen a storm front like the one that covered us on the way to Tahlequah, Oklahoma. K and I decided to start documenting the trip as the weather around us became more and more strange. Below is a link to the strange weather that appeared to follow us all the way to OK.
We made it to the meeting at 2:30 P.M., but somewhere around 11 or noon I started to become extremely emotional. It felt like I was headed to plant a flag to win the game for everyone, and the raw emotional upheaval that had built up after Mother’s Day and the ten years prior had reached a point where I was inconsolably in tears for the last couple of hours of the drive.
It’s difficult to explain to someone unfamiliar with these things, but after a decade of experiences for which there were no concrete answers, witnesses that’d attest after the experience but eventually had to walk back what they had seen so they could live with themselves, the division my experience had created in my family relationships (besides my mother since she shared experiences with me) due to suspicion of mental illness, and my girlfriend standing by my side ready to testify about what had happened on Mother’s Day, it was the most cathartic outpouring of grief and trauma I’d imagine anyone is capable of experiencing. The spiritual power that was pouring through me felt like “THE” power, and it charged and overwhelmed me to a level of what can best be described as pure chaotic spirit/eminence, which was extremely difficult to handle. There was a significant portion of the second half of the drive where it felt like I was channeling something, and the main thing it kept beaming into me very heavily was “Admonish…Admonish”, which it now feels was meant in this context to set the record straight.
We arrived at the meeting place in Tahlequah right on time, and the rain started as soon as we entered the building. I met my contact downstairs and basically fell into his arms with relief and gave a massive hug. A request that I had made before the meeting was that my girlfriend and I be the last to enter and exit every room, partially because I didn’t know the level of sensitivity of what I had come to discuss and whether or not I was in danger, but also because I didn’t want to have to repeat myself if others were going to join us after the sharing had started.
My contact led K and I upstairs and we entered the first room on the right. The first floor of the building appeared to be a Cherokee art gallery with the second floor having rooms for meeting spaces and community services. The three of us sat along the wall as the storm began to intensify outside. The multitude of thoughts running through my head included a concept of the possibility that the thunder beings of American Indian mythology could be the same entities as the Norse thunder Gods like Odin and Thor, which could be the same as the Greek Gods of lightning like Zeus, and that it had always been cultural interpretation of the same advanced/higher consciousness beings.
In my mind, if what I was feeling and had been learning had meant anything and was true, it seemed that the person that gets guided by these forces to break the news about what they were that helped bring the world around to everyone’s benefit would be the closest we were going to get to a second-coming of Christ. With this in mind, what I felt compelled to tell my contact was, “I am the second coming, but that doesn’t mean what you think it does”. He started breathing heavy with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground, and I told him it was alright.
Almost immediately after, another guy entered the room, dishonoring the request that had been made. He was a heavier set Cherokee man, and he and my contact started speaking Cherokee to each other, keeping K and I out of the conversation and I felt offended. He slumps into a chair on the other side of a desk in front of us and says “so what brings you here?”. Feeling that I had made adequate explanation about the reason for our visit, coupled with the fact that the storm appeared to come with us, something rose in me and I was overcome by the urge to whip my arm and point out the window at the storm. I aggressively pointed out the window at the storm with my right arm, and lightning cracked very close and loud. Without breaking eye contact with the new addition to the room, I angrily and sternly said with finger pointed, “they’re with me”. He looked visibly startled and exchanged glances to my contact and then back to me, and stood up inviting K and I to the room next door where there were others waiting to speak with us.
The heightened spiritual state I was in may have allowed me to connect with, and maybe even influence the strange weather that surrounded us, and I was riding a very volatile emotional high that left me in tears for much of the meeting. There was a guy in the other room that had a lot of tattoos and combed gelled hair, and he was the main one asking me questions. He kept his eyes lowered and used a lot of hand gestures as he asked questions relating to my experience. Although it’s difficult to recall the dialogue that took place to completion, or for that matter in the order it occurred, I can still recollect what was said.
Understanding the role alcohol had played in decimating many different communities and cultures, thoughts were running through my head that alcohol itself was death. Fermentation being the result of a decomposition process suggested to me that ingesting alcohol was to invite death. I shared that I was there to do work but didn’t know what it was, and the heavier set man that had entered the previous room late was aggressive in trying to get answers out of me that I couldn’t find, so I reflected his anger in my responses that I didn’t know and he ended up storming out of the room muttering to himself in Cherokee. Moments later I heard him on the porch outside the window of the room we were in, whipping a blanket at the storm and chanting in Cherokee, seemingly trying to shoo off the storm. I could also hear what sounded like laughter and cheering come from one of the rooms nearby.
The main person asking me questions continued and there was eventually a lull in the conversation where nobody spoke for a few seconds. I feel it necessary to mention that back in 2013, I started getting thoughts of a tattoo I began desiring which included an elk or a deer with geometric shapes up between the antlers. After toying around with the idea for some time, I took it to a tattoo artist friend of mine and he threw his own spin on it, which I ended up getting on my upper left arm in April of 2015.
I felt compelled to raise the sleeve on my left arm and tell him “I’ve marked myself with what I’ve seen”. He raised his eyes and as soon as he saw this design, he shot up out of his chair and sprinted out of the room reaching for his phone out of his pocket. The rest of us sat there in silence for a few moments and the storm slowly dissipated outside.
I finished sharing what it felt like I needed to, my emotional state settled for a bit, and the storm left which made me feel like I had been heard. My contact informed me that what I had come to share aligned with their creation story, and that my story held water (which I now think may have been a pun about the Holy Grail). He recommended that K and I spend some time down by a creek that ran behind the building and through the center of town to take in nature, and we did. K had to take her MCAT for medical school that Friday, and I felt overwhelmingly that I was on hallowed ground and that I shouldn’t leave, almost as if nature had swooped me up for a reason to try and stand against something immense that it felt was approaching. The burden that had lifted off of me after the meeting practically made me feel like I was floating.
We stood on a bridge that crossed the creek and negotiated what we should do next, and I noticed a couple of guys standing around us nearby that seemed like they were listening in on our conversation. They had sunglasses on and weren’t doing anything but standing near enough to us to be eavesdropping, and it felt overwhelmingly that we were being watched, perhaps at the request of our contact or the guy that ran out of the room during the meeting. I implored K to consider the importance of what we came to share and the deeper implications if we chose to leave, but we were in disagreement as her only concern was the MCAT.
Something called my attention to the corner of the park and there was a rough staircase that went up the middle of some dense trees and brush. I asked if she wanted to go check it out and she agreed. As we walked up the stairs, there was a grey-haired white man with a goatee and a hat on that had a soft zip-up blue cooler with him. We exchanged nods and kept past to the top of the stairs where we just found another road. With my chest fluttering and being emotionally exhausted, we sat on the curb of this road thinking about what to do next. After five or ten minutes, I glanced back at the tall grass behind us to the left and there was a trash bag entangled in it. With as much trash as we saw, I felt compelled to fill the bag, and K agreed to help me. As we made our way back down the stairs, the guy that we passed had left an unopened can of Coors Light sitting on a rock, which I chose to toss in the bag.
We picked up empty alcohol containers, Suboxone wrappers, and all manner of other trash out of the brush. We filled the bag up and came back down the stairs, and to anyone that watched us walk up with nothing and come down with a full trash bag that I plopped in a trash can in the park, it may have raised some eyebrows. The comprehension I’ve gained of the trickster nature of a lot of what has been going on with me seems to fit the theme of the event strangely well. We kept on walking down that side of the creek and examined the nubs of trees that had previously been there that appeared to have been downed by beavers before development had overtaken the area.
As we were walking back to the bridge, there was an older woman carrying a toddler that reached out for me and cried as she passed. The kid couldn’t have been older than two, and the manner in which he reached out in passing to be near me while making noise was undeniable. He stopped crying as soon as the woman carrying him stopped to investigate. It’s uncomfortable to examine the potential reasons for why this kid acted in this way, but recent contemplation about the incident suggests to me that if there is any truth that I actually am a spiritual being with a high concentration of that “source” spirit and children are the closest to God, this kid may have felt a gravitation to that same likeness coming from me. Additionally, if the society in which we live which that kid had no choice but to be subjected to is contrary to our innate nature, he was maybe even reaching out to me for help because he didn’t recognize the loveless landscape. After exchanging a few words and spending a second to quell this kid’s unease, we continued on our way and left the park.
The whole time we were there after the storm left, there was a lenticular cloud that hung over the creek. Not feeling like I was fully considered with what I came to say, I was overcome with an impulse that compelled me to message my contact and tell him that the cloud over the creek would prove my claim. K and I had a five-gallon water jug that we decided to use to offer free water at a Love’s gas station on the edge of the park. As we stood outside the car, there was only one person that allowed us to provide water. Her name was Jennifer. She was Native, pregnant, already had kids, was covered in tattoos including her face, had been in and out of prison, and was the warmest sweetest woman. Not to assume anything about her, but it was as if her kindness and love had just been used up by everyone throughout her life, but she was still kind and loving.
As we stood there chatting with her, a state trooper pulled into one of the gas pump spots staring at us. I also noticed that there was a Black man standing by a light pole on the edge of the gas station throwing frequent glances in our direction, locking eyes a few times, and he actually makes an appearance later in my story which I’ll get to. The state trooper opened his door and stood leaning against the inside of it staring at K and I with sunglasses on, and Jennifer chose to leave. It felt as though the trooper was there for us, but due to his not approaching us, I decided to approach him. I shook his hand, introduced myself, and informed him that we were just giving out water and chatting.
I rejoined K and the state trooper didn’t move and kept eyeing us. After a few more minutes of what felt like intimidation, something compelled me to look over the park. When I did, there appeared two crafts over the park coming in from the right. In appearance, they were white oval-like crafts that resembled eggs with the bottom third smoothed flat. I drew K’s attention to them and we watched as they flew from right to left at least a mile away, just above the tree line. A mother held the hand of her toddler exiting the gas station and the kid fell to the ground crying inconsolably as we watched these things glide across the sky. They both flew into the lenticular cloud above the park and only one flew out and started ascending in altitude. I asked the state trooper, “does that look like a plane to you?”, to which he replied he didn’t see anything, having never turned his gaze from us. The craft that ascended went into the clouds and just sort of faded out, and I took that as our sign to go.
Before leaving, I called one of my parents that had been under the assumption that these experiences had been a product of mental illness, but due to my girlfriend having shared a couple of experiences with me and standing with me up to that point accompanied by the public reaction to what had just occurred, I felt the connection had been illustrated. He was understandably alarmed and ended up coming to Lubbock a few days later, but I’ll get to that.
K and I decided to go eat at the Buffalo Wild Wings in Tahlequah afterwards at about 8:00 P.M. and managed to capture something on video. I’m not saying that this is anything out of the ordinary, but considering the rest of what’s happened, it is strange enough to include.
After having dinner, we decided that we would save the 7 1/2 hour drive back for the next day and to get a hotel that night. We got a hotel on the edge of the reservation and immediately after checking in decided to go across the street to the gas station to get some snacks and drinks. We got in the car after checking in and as I drove to exit the parking lot with the window down, we got buzzed by a helicopter with a spotlight flying very low. Since I had the window down, I just waved at it and it quickly banked away from us after having its light on us for a couple of seconds. We continued to the gas station directly across the street and as soon as we stepped out of the car, there was a state trooper that gunned it past us with lights and sirens going that headed in the direction we would have been going if we were headed back to Lubbock.
The next day on our way back, there were a couple of cars that seemed to stay in the rearview mirror the majority of the way, but it could have just been paranoia. Then, as we approached the Texas state line, there were two fighter jets that crossed in front of us low and slow directly over the state line as we were about a mile away from it. They came in from right to left, very low and very slow, as if they wanted to be seen. They crossed in front of us and looped back towards Oklahoma, but as they turned away from the state line heading back, they took a side-by-side singular formation like two were becoming one, somewhat implying solidarity if that display was meant for us. The choreography of the maneuver they pulled certainly seemed like it was orchestrated to be viewed from our position on the road. Looking at the fact that the storm appeared to follow us there, we were hounded by a state trooper during the daytime encounter after the meeting that was observed by many people, we were buzzed by a helicopter shortly before a state trooper zoomed the direction we would have been heading back, and then having two jets cross in front of us, the effort or financial expenditure associated with these events suggests to me that we may have attracted some heavy attention. The multitude of examples of high strangeness suggest to me that there is a probability that these incidents coincide.
K and I had some conversations on the drive back about the incidents that had transpired, and although the things I had experienced over the previous decade and what we had recently shared seemed to be part of a higher consciousness orchestration, it’s understandable to have a lot of difficulty and hesitance trying to consider it all after your boyfriend of a bit over a month had all of this smack him in the face. Having witnessed displays that seemingly attempted to claim responsibility for biblical imagery (Bethlehem star/burning bush) must have caused an un-winnable internal conflict which caused her to gradually retreat from the proposition with which we were confronted in favor of emotional safety and societal normalcy. She couldn’t bring herself to consider what appears to be the truth and slowly started talking herself into what she had been seeing with me as being the result of some other natural phenomena.
Upon our return to Lubbock on May 17th at 3:45 P.M., there was another rainstorm lingering above the town that didn’t rain a drop until we had entered my house.
K and I settled in after getting back, but there were some psychological and physiological things that I was dealing with that had just begun. I didn’t know it at the time, but I was in the throes of an awakening that was anything but subtle and would escalate over the next couple of days. The evening that we returned, there was someone that reached out to me. I had posted about the experiences I had from 2008 through 2011 on Reddit in years past to the degree I had understood them, and there was a guy attending school at Texas State in San Marcos, TX that said he wanted to come stargazing with me. He came over on Easter Sunday of 2013 or 2014 while I did an online driving course for a speeding ticket I had previously received, but that night he chose to go hang out with friends in Lubbock rather than go stargazing with me, and I didn’t hear from him after that until the night of my girlfriend and I’s return.
After having zero contact for years, he sends me a video of John Anthony West, who was one of the foremost experts of ancient Egypt that passed in early 2018, discussing lost knowledge and the burning of the Library of Alexandria with Joe Rogan. Considering what our entire communication history had consisted of in subject matter and the timing of his message after years without contact, it felt as though something was intentionally reaching in, but I didn’t know what. If there was any possibility that this was part of some bigger orchestration that he was a part of, I felt that saying I was the advisor for the changes to come in light of what had been coming to me was the best thing I could say to affirm whatever force had reached out. Still, I felt overwhelmingly that him sending this to half of his friends list at this particular time on accident where I would see it during my awakening was an intentional act, but I couldn’t identify on the behalf of what.
The next day, I was, for lack of a better term, glowing with emboldenment from tying up some of the loose ends that had caused me such extreme existential grief for the decade prior, and the synchronicities had started to pile up in a way that felt intentional. K and I went to the coffee shop on foot with my roommate’s dog, and there were a lot of people out enjoying the sunny day with what felt like a jovial kind of demeanor. It seemed as though whatever energy was being exuded from me attracted the attention of passersby, usually accompanied by a confused look of gravitation as they went.
We made it to the coffee shop and there was a musician set up in the front, which I had yet to see in the seven years before in my frequent visits to the shop, although they frequently had people performing in the back room. With finals wrapping up, the whole energy of the place was very free and inviting. After returning home, there was a period where I received calls from other family members that were concerned, but I was picking up on notions that they were about to reach out to me. During the conversations, I could feel what they were going to say before they said it, as if I was experiencing precognition of what was about to happen, almost like everything was scripted. It was as if I was falling into an intentional progression of reality, and further research about the idea that the universe itself is deterministic has reinforced the possibility in my mind that these things were meant to happen. At the level of elevation I was operating, I don’t rule out the possibility that I was tapped in to the collective consciousness of whatever it is that sets and keeps things in motion.
Overcast cloud cover descended over Lubbock during this time, and I had been playing a lot of golf up until what happened on Mother’s Day. I found myself in a heightened state of awareness and consideration and began to think about whether or not playing golf, which harms the ground, was appropriate for me to do anymore. I then began thinking of a guy that I had met on a golf course and played a round with a few months prior. He calls me and asks me if I wanted to go play a round at Reese Golf Center, and deciding to follow the rabbit hole, I agreed. He drove us and the entire way, it was as if the cars that were around us were keeping pace with and almost encasing us. My demeanor must have been alarming to my friend, and I felt like something was going to happen at the golf course.
We get there and decide to go to the driving range to warmup. I couldn’t swing a club because I felt guilty about harming the ground. I sat and watched my friend, who was a pretty skilled golfer, strike balls straight down the range and after a few minutes, another man came up and began practicing his swing inside the PVC loop that’s supposed to help with backswing and follow through accuracy. The sound the scraping of his club made going back and following through oddly resembled the sounds I heard the night of my first experience, and it all somehow felt intentional. My uplifted state made me crave purity and enlivenment, so I was motivated to take off my shoes and feel the grass between my toes, so I did.
I felt connected and a part of everything, and shortly after saw a dark line skirting the bottom of the cloud line from past the end of the driving range moving left in the direction of the clubhouse, and I decided to stand and walk over a few feet in the direction I saw it head. A strange and forceful feeling came over me that motivated me to raise my right arm to chest level, palm down, and I began making counter-clockwise circles fully extending my arm out with my gaze focused on where I saw the dark line stop in the clouds some distance away. After five or six circles, I felt a charge that snapped me up and recoiled my body to where my left ear touched my shoulder and lightning suddenly struck a bit over a mile away in the direction I was facing. I hear my friend behind me mutter “dude, what the fuck….”, and I suddenly became very weak.
Internally, it felt like nature itself was cheering and applauding what had happened, almost like I was performing theater. I had never felt the sensation of my breath actually leaving me like it did after this happened, but I started having a shallow cough and felt like I should go over to the cart to get my water. As I crossed the path to the cart, which also is the pathway back to the clubhouse after the 18th hole, I hadn’t noticed that there was a party of golfers in at least their 50s that saw the whole ordeal go down. I had never seen a look of shock and awe in an older man, but the look on this man’s face as he panned his gaze back and forth between me and where the lightning had struck was wide-eyed, mouth open, brow furrowed, as if it had immediately caused some kind of existential questioning. I gave a soft wave while hunched over trying to regain my breath and hobbled across the cart path to the cart, carrying my shoes walking barefoot.
Within a matter of a couple of days, there had been two strange incidents where lightning appeared to show up either when it was willed, or it was going to happen regardless and I was just in the right place, performing the right actions, at the right time. My friend was unsettled and we had to leave because the course got called in due to lightning danger. He took me back home and things continued to escalate in an uncomfortable, almost unmanageable way. Whatever was happening with me, I no longer felt as though I was in control. The high-intensity energy that had overcome me was gripping in a way like I had never felt, and the overwhelming spiritual component of it was chaotic but exuberant, like an eminence of pure “spirit” coming from something higher.
Having no other choice but to acclimate to whatever was going on with me and ride it out, I coasted into that evening with a burden on me that felt as big as existence itself. The evening of the 18th after the sun went down, I was sitting on the couch with my elbows on my knees looking at the floor with K sitting beside me doing her best to comfort me, but there was nothing she could really do. The love that we had for each other was total, and I knew that she wanted to help but couldn’t. She was sitting beside me to my left in silence when suddenly, the entire energy of the room changed. The whole room took on a hazy, light-blue, dreamlike feeling and appearance, and I suddenly felt very light physically. The air became crisp and fresh, and breathing in stung like menthol going all the way down in an enlivening way. The breaths that I began taking were deep, powerful, and exhilarating. It was almost overwhelming in a way that necessitated having to take deeper breaths to bear the presence of whatever it was that had shown up.
My girlfriend beside me leaned closer, but I kept my gaze fixed to the floor in hesitance and confusion of just what it was that was happening. In the most confident but comforting and assuring tone, I hear my girlfriend say “I…am Mother Nature…and you…are the King…of Yiz-rah-el”. I didn’t look up or speak, and at this point began to question whether I had gone completely off the rails, if there were any possibility that she was messing with me, or if there was something happening that was so far beyond me I had no recourse in acknowledging or responding to it. After a moment she stood up and walked in front of me, turned to face me, extended a hand and said “come with me”. I kept silent as she led me by the hand to the front porch just after the sun had gone down, and we sat down.
I was pretty uneasy over the entire recent unfolding of events and was physically tense. She tells me in the same tone “I want to show you something…I can make fireflies dance while I hum a song. Would you like to see?”. I managed to squeeze out a soft “ok”, and she started humming a tune, soft and gentle. Looking out over the porch I saw no flashes or fireflies, and then after about five seconds, there appeared a cloud just a few feet off from the porch to the right of them, swirling and dancing around with each other, almost as if they were playing with joy. Whatever emotional barrier I had set up to deal with whatever it was that was happening was instantly shattered as I sat there in awe at this little cluster of flashes that had no other reason for being there other than her saying they would be. With my defenses down, I began seeking to understand rather than be dismissive for the sake of being able to bear whatever it was that was happening.
Many months after this night, I felt compelled to research what “Israel” even meant. A quick search revealed that the literal Hebrew translation of Israel is “God contends”, and what does it mean to contend something? To challenge? Make an assertion? After taking time to process these events over the following two years, one idea came to mind that the more I looked at it, the more interesting it became. I started to question if there could be such a thing as “God” creating someone that checked enough boxes, and whose life is filled with enough synchronicities and unlikely happenings that it logically makes it appear as though these things were happening intentionally. Furthermore, I began to wrestle with thoughts of whether or not I wrote all this out for myself. Going through my story and coming across a variety of strange circumstances added depth to the concept, and there’s many more unlisted in this post. I’ll list more at the end.
My neighbors next door were having a party, which I think was a birthday or graduation party due to the couple of college girls that lived there having older family over. My girlfriend, apparently channeling, went on to say “would you like to see our ancestors?”, to which I said “ok”. Just then, out from the front door of their house walks an elderly man with a cane, bent over with a bad back so severe he was practically walking at a 90 degree angle. As he proceeds to the car parked on the street out front, I say out to him “beautiful night”, and he stops for a second and acknowledges what I said and kept walking. I looked up at the stars that had recently come out, and with the dots that appeared to be connecting, I got the notion that the things that I had been experiencing were responsible for us being here, and that is why Black Elk and other people in tribes refer to them as “the Grandfathers”. I was overtaken with a sudden and intense reverence for what I had been shown over the years, the conclusions that it led me to, and was overwhelmed with gratitude for literally everything.
Whatever had been happening gradually dissipated, and I let my girlfriend sleep on the couch because I felt like I needed to be alone to absorb and process what had just happened. Later that night, there was a moment where this intense energy started bearing down on me. It was like an invisible weighted blanket made of static that covered the whole of me and felt like pure chaotic spirit that illuminated me. I left my bedroom to try and get away from it and it continued into another room where I sat down in my boxers and grabbed my roommate’s pool cue case to have something to hold onto and grip while it encumbered me. The energy felt righteous, abundant, and powerful. Doing research long after this particular instance occurred, I found artistic representation that depicts the closest resemblance to what the “spirit” of the energy felt like.
The pervasiveness of evil in society, the defeat of which is clearly represented from the snake around the arm of the downed combatant, overwhelmed my mind and played a massive part in what had motivated me to seek others with which I could discuss my experience, and if there were any good that I could help bring about in light of the perceived higher consciousness component to all this, I felt not only compelled but obligated to follow up. If you’ve ever seen the Haka performed by the Maori or warriors sticking out their tongues in defiance and intimidation, the essence of those kinds of acts are what this energy felt like. Then, without words, I began sensing something asking me if I would “swing the blade”. I nodded yes at whatever it was that was asking me, perceiving it to be an end to suffering and evil over society, and the energy quickly lifted off of me.
To those unfamiliar with occult concepts, this next part may seem unsettling, but there is a well-founded basis for this act in that realm of knowledge. I wanted to feel pure, light, and had an overwhelming and charging illumination that compelled me to go to the backyard and face the night sky with my boxers down, which an intuitive friend would later explain to me was an “I AM” moment, and I don’t underestimate the degree to which that’s what all of this has been about. The high frequency I had been riding provoked me into standing shameless to the world in defiance of the shame it tries to impose, and it was powerful, albeit startling to my girlfriend. I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, and maybe an hour before sunrise I felt the urge to let out energy by walking around the neighborhood. I decided to go barefoot, and as I began walking was almost overtaken by a rhythm that turned my walk into a jog where I was standing upright for four steps and then hunched over for four steps, kind of like a dancing run.
The sun had started to come up and I began walking home. Once I was a few blocks from home, I began looking at the world around me bathed in the morning light and, for the first time in my life, truly felt as though I was a part of it, and that everything was one. It’s difficult to describe to someone what it feels like to truly be integrated and present, and the beauty that enveloped me I realized had been there the entire time, but I was born into a culture that neglects this kind of awareness. I began thinking about the deeper implications of my experience and what had been indicated to me through various forms in regards to purpose, and I suddenly started feeling overwhelmed and fearful. I looked up and saw a dove fly by whose attention was drawn to me as it passed, and I felt that belonging sink back in and felt hopeful, and then saw a few sets of dove flying in pairs. I alternated between feelings and noticed that when I was happy and hopeful, the dove around flew in pairs, and when fearful, they flew alone.
I looked at the world around me and it was as if it was looking back, and I was making eye contact with whatever intelligence was behind it. It was like I could feel an old set of eyes, surrounded by wrinkles that had been waiting for something setting their gaze upon me and leaning in widening, like they were seeing someone they missed or wasn’t sure they’d see again. I felt a sense of “is it really you?”, and with my head lowered and eyes raised gave an assuring nod that I recognized it. It felt like nature was cheering around me, and I clapped my hands hard a few times feeling overjoyed. I made my way back home and began to settle down, and my girlfriend came over as the sun was rising.
We were sitting on the couch, and I guess she knew that one of my parents was on their way to Lubbock having been concerned about me. That parent threatened to sever their relationship with me if I didn’t check into a psych clinic, and I was so emotionally exhausted by the end of my ordeal that I went voluntarily. There seems to be some level of intentionality regarding specifics of my story from here on out that implies that these details are meant to further drive home the concept that all of this was guided to happen, down to the most minuscule details. With the messianic vibes I had been getting throughout the latter part of my ordeal, I find it interesting that not only was the name of the hospital that I went into “Covenant”, but the older woman’s name that did my admit was “Mary”.
I spent almost a day in the ER while a bed became available in the psych unit of that hospital, which was called “the Plaza”. When I was signing my admit papers to the psych unit, something overcame me in a very forceful way just beaming into me “Horus…Horus”, and I decided to sign some admit papers as Horus and others as H.H. The morning after coming into the clinic, I met some other patients. A couple of people were in there for suicide attempts, some for breakdowns, others with psychosis from substances. One man had lost use of an entire side of his body from the arm up to his eye and was upset about still being alive. He begged me to take his good eye so I could make better use of it than he had. Another Hispanic female patient was repeating prayers relentlessly in Spanish, and when I locked eyes with her put my hand over my heart to try and let her know things were alright, but she kept praying harder. Another girl in there had actually been in my Master’s program and kept going on about how she missed her dog, always putting heavy emphasis on the dog part, as if there was a deeper implication being suggested. If there were higher consciousness components associated with my experiences and the research I had been provoked and would later continue to do, the notion that I got was that loyally sniffing out the correlations and sharing them with the world would in essence be like God creating someone to prove its point.
I told my story to a few resident psychiatrists and one in particular stuck out. He was a tall and slender Black man that may have been the only one to hear my story from a professional position that had given it consideration. He sat there and listened as I listed out some of the things I had seen in years prior to everything recently coming to a convergence, and as I made descriptions of what I had seen, he got a puzzled and distant look on his face. It was almost as if my descriptions were reaching him on a level he had forgot had existed, and it seemed like what I was saying was somehow familiar to him. During my stay, I met with the treatment team a few times which consisted of many younger people lining both sides of a long table in a meeting room with the treatment team director on the opposite end of where patients sat. I communicated what I had been experiencing effectively and emphasized that if I hadn’t had witnesses to corroborate the experience that I’d question my own sanity, yet these things have kept showing up. Inconclusively meeting the criteria for any discernible diagnosis, I was given a soft diagnosis of delusional disorder and recommended to attend another facility for a longer stay. Being at risk of losing one of my parents if I didn’t and being on a soft trail of what it appears as though it has been that I’ve been experiencing, I felt it might be an opportunity to plead my case in a way and bring broader attention to this seemingly significant phenomena that had been revealing itself.
After a week in the clinic, I was let out and told by my father to gather everything that I wanted to keep in my home, where I had lived for five years, for movers to collect and put in storage, and I allowed myself to be overpowered by him after he threatened to cut ties with me if I didn’t submit. I was only given a couple of hours to do so, and my name wasn’t put on the paperwork to have access to any of my belongings, which I wouldn’t learn until later. Prior to leaving the next morning, my girlfriend gifted me a distance bracelet that was composed of 23 white marble beads with one black one, hers being the exact opposite. It seems poetic to me now that mine is composed of light beads and hers were dark. She had experienced multiple things with me that she couldn’t explain and couldn’t bring herself to admit it to anyone else, maybe even herself, that my lengthy experience with these types of things coupled with demonstrations appeared to mean something significant. She only agreed to go with me to Oklahoma because she could discuss up to that point what we experienced on Mother’s Day, and I can understand the fear that can come from what others may think of these things.
The name of the clinic was Menninger and is regarded as one of the best psych hospitals in the country. Almost immediately after arriving and touring the facility, I walked over to investigate the stocked bookcase along the wall of the main room of the building where I was placed. I scanned the shelves and stumbled upon a copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, the book after which I’m named, and it was a first edition. After nearly 30 years, I had never read the book that was my namesake, and the only other time I had even seen a first edition was my father’s copy at my grandparents’ house growing up when we’d go to visit. I pulled it off the shelf and opened it to find an inscription inside, a picture of which is included below:
For those unfamiliar, the story is about a seagull that doesn’t care about fighting for fish with the rest of the flock, much to the dismay of his family and the rest of the flock. He just wants to perfect his flight, attracts the attention of elder gulls and ends up ascending and becoming a teacher. When I sat down and read this story to find many similar parallels to my own, I was pretty uncomfortably floored. I would also later come to find out that the author penned another book called Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, which was also deeply unsettling. In relation to the goals that I had been developing in regards to helping improve everyone’s quality of life, there was an excerpt from the book that read “show them heaven where they stand”, and it’s a phrase I reflect on at times. The possibilities began sinking in that the development of synchronicities that had begun revealing themselves to me were actually intentional, and if so, what does that mean for me? Also more importantly, how would the world react to a level of coincidence so severe that the seeming intentionality is undeniable?
After being admitted and getting to know some people, I began quickly discovering that regardless of whatever truth lay in my experiences and research, the western mental health forum, by nature, was incapable of embracing the possibility that there was something more happening. I discussed my experiences and the limited cultural and historical references I had grown to understand at that time, but accepted that the environment in itself wasn’t conducive to facilitating fruitful conversation on the matter. I knew prior to this that my experience would likely be seen through a westernized lens as having more to do with potential illness rather than higher spirituality, but I had some conversations that seemed like were meant to happen.
This facility served mostly privileged clientele, and we were given our own flip-style cell phones to make calls, there was a TV with an Apple TV installed, and computers with limited internet access. I kept in touch with my girlfriend during the first half of my stay until we had a call one day where she said that she felt she had to end things. Having shared such meaningful things, I was heartbroken and said to her during the call “I moved the stars for you, baby…”, to which she squeaked out an “…I know…”. I gathered that she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge what she had seen due to how disruptive it was for her life plans and ability to stay afloat in society. Her aspirations were centered around working in the medical industry, which due to its recognizable flaws, motivated me to encourage her to try and make more systemic beneficial changes. The aim of what I knew she was capable of was beyond what she wanted for herself in more ways than one, and the symbolism of the difference in our bracelets was deafening. Knowing that she would rather turn her back and keep her head down from what appeared to inspire aspects of the foundation of her faith in favor of monotony and safety induced a pain in me that I still carry to this day, yet it is a lesson I needed to learn in respect to the lengths that people will go to seek safety or not cause disturbance for the greater good.
On weekends I would spend much of my time investigating YouTube and the reachable pages on the internet to try and find answers. While researching Black Elk, I found that him being regarded as a Heyoka in his tribe was significant. Heyoka are described as contrarians, sacred clowns that have the highest ability to question authority, they have the power of lightning (which appeared to connect to my experiences), their colors (black and white) represent duality, and the significance of the bracelet that I was gifted by my recent ex-girlfriend was amplified even more. I found a video on YouTube of a man that was doing a presentation at a random community center promoting his book that was an attempted decoding of Black Elk Speaks. He spoke of the thunder beings, synchronicities where nature appeared to speak through animals to convey messages, and I felt overly compelled to try and contact him.
I did some searching on the internet and was able to find a phone number for him, which thankfully worked. I reached out to him and had a few conversations that conveyed that I knew something was going on with my experience, that members of my family thought I was crazy, and that I didn’t know what to do with all that was being presented to me. I think it was our third call where he finally lost patience with me and said “of course dummy! When the Lakota see a craft, they wave! They know we’re family”. I had difficulty analyzing what he meant until I obtained a copy of his book, which I’ll get to later. The glimmer of hope he provided that suggested this was a well-established phenomenon in the Lakota culture, which research previously indicated, granted me strength to persevere the difficult circumstances in which I found myself. He recommended that I visit South Dakota and seek out an elder, and that I should never ask questions because an elder would only reveal to me what they felt necessary.
Dreams have appeared to play an important role through my experience, and there were a couple that I had at this facility that feel worth mentioning. Towards the beginning of my stay, there was one dream I had that was particularly startling. It started inside of a high-roofed building that resembled a country club clubhouse with wide open rooms and a wall that seemed to mostly be made of glass at the end of the room that overlooked a heavily landscaped field. All of the furniture, including a long table in the center of that room, seemed like it was decorative and mostly for show. I looked to the right and the wall opposite of me was covered in taller nude elderly white men with drooping faces, standing on wooden platforms lining the wall from top to bottom and side to side, almost as if they were trophies. They were frozen still and I saw one climbing up to his wooden platform extending from the wall slowly and sloppily. I asked “are you ok?”, to which he let out a shallow groan and nodded to acknowledge me, but he kept on climbing up. I felt like my subconscious was trying to give me a representation of what certain pharmaceuticals actually do in reference to subduing and degrading individual spirit, especially when misappropriated, to make it easier to whittle ourselves to fit in within society.
Another dream I had shortly after seemed far more significant. Before I went to bed that night, I prayed out loud “please show me what I need to see”. In the dream I had that night, it was as if I was living a series of lives, a different one each time I would blink, but they were all the same general theme. I would be crawling on my back away from someone advancing towards and over me, and each time I blinked, it wasn’t just a different life, it was as if I was starting to fade with each one. It’s difficult to describe the feeling of existentially fading away into nothing gradually, but it was perhaps the most terrifying thing I’ve felt. It got to the point where I was mentally slipping as to what was happening as things started to darken, and I felt a jolt that shot me to my feet without standing, emanating a light to the darkness and standing in defiance. In my right hand was a scepter made of crystal that had a large flat circular disc on top, and I cast it towards the darkness where it shattered into innumerable pieces. I then reached to my right and picked up what I think was an hourglass and dumped out the sand from it while facing the dark. It felt like I was being confronted with a choice to become nothing or raise my spirit to a point where the dark couldn’t affect it.
Due to the perceived likelihood that my experience could be the same type of phenomena that contributed to the foundations of religions, cultures, and myths, I decided to try and share and gain insight from the on-site chaplain. His name was Salvador Delmundo, which I would later find out translates to “Savior of the World”, which doesn’t seem like a coincidence. His office was completely covered in Lord of the Rings and Star Wars memorabilia, and when I inquired about his fascination with these sagas, he told me that he was obsessed with archetypes. In our first meeting, I gave him a short explanation of what had I had been seeing and the notions I had been getting as he nonchalantly typed on his computer and stared at his screen. Without ever glancing over at me, he waited for a pause and told me that I should “try talking about it and getting the story out”. As much as I had attempted to discuss these matters with those close to me and been met with either resistance or disregard, the frustration that built in me and the disregard I felt manifested in the welling up of tears in my eyes that began rolling down my face as I exhaustingly choked out an “I’ve tried”.
He turned his attention to me, finally with concern and interest, and lent an honest ear to the overpowering and overwhelming higher implications that were suggested from my encounters and research. In another meeting, I had told him about how the time 11:33 had stuck out to me throughout my life when glancing at the clock, both A.M. and P.M. I was inquiring about the significance of numbers with him when he told me something that wouldn’t make sense until later. He said, “you know, there’s a lot of talk about 1 being a whole number”. I discussed what I could with other members of the treatment team to the degree they were capable, and the social worker that had been assigned to me recommended I go to another facility for up to six months, and was completely enraged.
After enduring some psychological testing which indicated a higher likelihood for PTSD than delusional disorder and some intelligence testing, I sat in the program director’s office having our weekly discussion. He was moving out of the state to work in another hospital and appeared to have mostly checked out by this point. He told me directly to my face “we don’t know how to help you” and began discussing dismissal, which one of my parents that put me in there would have responded to with anger and withdrawal of support. Reminding him of the witnesses that had shared experiences with me and reported having seen the same things, I asked him if there was anything he could diagnose me with if I had actually seen what I had, to which he responded “no”. I threw my arms up in frustration and again suggested that whatever course of treatment they recommend should account for the possibility that there may be something other than mental illness going on, and if so, the medications they were attempting to prescribe could result in misapplication which would worsen things. It unfortunately was not their job to practice sensitivity in regards to my experience, and for billing purposes were compelled to provide a diagnosis.
I advocated against further treatment as I understood that it missed the mark of what was going on and would only serve to lose me more time. I made an agreement with one of my parents which had been the aggressor in dictating support and conditions, and I was put up in an extended stay hotel while I looked for a job. Part of the agreement was to follow the family psychiatrist’s recommended treatment perfectly, and the side effects of the anti-psychotics that first came prescribed brought me closer than I have ever been to taking my own life. Sitting down in the shower in the dark trying to limit sensory sensitivity, taking walks, and going to see movies at the dollar theater in town that I had no interest in just to try to take my mind off of how terrible I felt were the most heavily utilized coping mechanisms I attempted.
I began watching a show on Hulu that originally aired on AMC called Preacher. It’s about an energy or spirit made by God that’s referred to as Genesis that got loose and had all the powers of God. It searched the universe for a host capable of withstanding its power, exploding many people that were incapable along the way until it found Jesse Custer, a no-good west TX drunken preacher that had a rough past. I made it to an episode where he was visiting New Orleans and was talking with a homeless preacher where I saw some familiar numbers behind him. My address for the previous five years had been 2607 21st Street in Lubbock, TX (west TX), and was pretty perturbed to find the same numbers on the wall between these characters in conversation.
Feeling compelled to further my research, I ended up buying a copy of the book that the Lakota elder I had found had written decoding Black Elk Speaks and began reading. I was surprised to learn how much similarity exists between American Indian and Buddhist philosophy, particularly in how each of them views everything as being a part of one greater thing, which resonates with what the chaplain of the clinic I attended said about 1 being a whole number. If everything comes from and is an extension of that same original thing, then it could all exist as part of an intentional orchestration for the sake of having the experience. He went on to say in his book about how “spirits will do anything to get our attention”, and if there is an intelligence behind things that are happening around us which we can’t see, coincidences and synchronicities could be how the universe/spirits at its employ/God tries to speak.
I was waiting tables at a franchise restaurant with which I had experience at a different location, and I had re-enrolled in my PhD program taking strictly online/distance classes. I felt compelled to get out of the environment I had been living in and was able to convince my controlling parent that I should live in Dallas and commute once a month for classes. I was able to find a room with a college friend of mine that was renting from a friend of his and moved to Dallas in early October 2018.
Feeling overly compelled to go discuss and research what had been getting revealed, I tried to talk about my story with people in churches, synagogues, Buddhist temples, and meditation centers seeking additional insight or people that could potentially help. I spent time with a friend that I met through one of his cousins at Texas Tech, and he had recently began spending time at a Hari Krishna temple meditating and partaking in vegan meals. He invited me to the place he frequented and I went one brisk rainy night after being in town for a few days.
After doing some meditation in the main room, he and I were talking in the small kitchen of the facility. I was standing behind a chair leaning over it while he sat in a chair in front of me when a woman, probably in her mid to late 30s with long dark hair came into the room and sat in a chair facing us, never saying a word. She put her hands up in front of her face and began praying intensely. My buddy had gotten an ear full of what had been going on with me up to that point, and he and I watched this woman silently pray while mouthing words with the palms of her hands raised now in front of her closed eyes. A wave of melancholy came over me as he and I fell silent watching her pray, and the further reinforcement that there was something higher seemingly going on with me brought on a certain concern and sadness. Perhaps it was that if there were any truth to what my previous experience indicated, then the vast majority of the world was blind to it but people at a certain level of intuition could perceive.
Having a Master’s degree, I decided to try and see if I could find a job that could make me what my education was worth and was hired by the community court in the city of Dallas in one of their vocational programs through their community court. On November 5th of 2018, I met someone that was campaigning for Beto O’Rourke running against Ted Cruz and struck up a conversation. I told him about what had been going on with me recently, and he adamantly encouraged me to go visit Sedona, AZ because there are other “contactees” there. He said his father was a handyman and he’d let me stay with him to save cost if I drove him out, and not starting my job for two weeks, I chose to take a spur of the moment road trip with my new friend the next day. I drove us through the night on November 6th, and as we approached we were frequented by strange aerial phenomena. There was a craft that had red and white lights that would show up in the small hours of the morning that would seemingly show up after a quick flash of light, keep pace with the car not too far off, and eventually bank away only to have the process repeated at least a dozen times. We made it to Sedona shortly after sunrise, met his father, and he had a cot set up for me where I slept most of the first day I was there.
The first few days there, I researched healers, psychics, and anyone else that seemed like they might be able to provide insight. I found two healers that were roommates, one of which I’m still close with. Since I was trying to conserve finances, I told each person that I spoke with that I didn’t have the funds to compensate them for discussing things with me, but a couple were gracious enough to meet with me after phone discussions. There was one woman that led UFO tours using night vision goggles that met with me, and a video of one of her tours with documentation similar to some of the things I’ve seen is included below:
We met at a cafe and had a chat about my experiences, but I came to find out that her interest in the phenomenon was primarily business oriented. The two healers I met with were a great help, and one even took me out to some vortexes and did a rune stone session for me. After getting back to his house, we sat on the front porch around sunset and he brought out an animal totem book. There was a very short brushy tree about 15 yards in front of us, and it suddenly became filled with five mountain bluebirds that hung on the branches mingling with each other. After about 20 seconds, they all flew out and then a single quail ran out from the side of the house in front of us. American Indian tribes associate the bluebird with high significance, renewal, growth, and transformation. The quail popularly represents social relations, communication, and staying a step ahead of danger.
I was gifted a book by one of the healers I met with titled “the Pleiadian Mission”, which is an account of a man named Billy Meier that claimed he had been visited by a star woman and gotten a glimpse of how they live. With so much of my research into American Indian star knowledge pointing at this particular star system, I found it interesting that he chose to gift it, and the details described in the book may be the evolutionary path that humanity is on.
Having discovered the recent American Indian connection to what it looked like I had been experiencing, I decided to start researching what tribes were in the area and stumbled across the Hopi tribe. A small amount of research revealed that the Hopi, Zuni, and Pueblo in and around the four corners all had a very strong attachment to the stars, and then other findings became very strange. The Hopi have two prophecies that kind of intertwine, one being the True White Brother and the other being the Blue Kachina.
https://www.welcomehome.org/prophecy/hopi1.html
The appearance of the Blue Kachina is said to be what marks the beginning of what the Hopi refer to as “purification”, and depictions of it were strikingly similar to the first bright light my girlfriend and I saw on the morning of Mother’s Day six and a half months earlier. Depictions of the True White Brother say that he would have a strange light in his eye, would have dark hair, his forehead would glisten like he was sweating though he wasn’t, he would have a red hat with a design like the tail of a horned-toad lizard, and may wear a red cloak or cape. I’ve been balding in a horseshoe pattern since about the age of 20, and being from Alabama and an Alabama football fan, my only hat included a red script “A”.
Thinking abstractly, the Alabama “A” without the cross through it does kind of resemble a fat horny toad tail. I then thought back to my favorite hoodie, which was a crimson-colored Nike Breathe hoodie that I had felt overly compelled to get some time earlier and hunted for a discount to obtain.
When I read these things and how there seemed to be a gradual introduction to not only what I had been experiencing, but also to potentially being part of a prophecy that may have included a resemblance to my likeness, my stomach jumped in my throat. Coupled with my previous experiences that signified higher purpose, it was as if all of creation was bearing down on me to drive home a message that I was meant to help accomplish something that would help heal and restore balance in a big way, whatever that looked like. The degree of coincidence had become so overbearing that it had started to appear as though it was all intentional, like pieces of a story that had been written to come together to create a complete puzzle that was so unlikely to happen by chance that it indicated it was happening at the behest of a higher intelligence to prove its own point.
How can anyone come to grips with the idea that their existence could be an orchestration on the behalf of the supposed creative intelligence that comprises all things to prove itself? Could I have decided to be and come with the appearance I did to tick the mentioned boxes, making me an exemplification of that source intelligence? Could higher consciousness beings that are congruent with that source intelligence be enlisted to help enact a plan that guided me to becoming what has been expressed? Furthermore, if all that is true, then are things funneling in my direction to be a decision-maker on a global level to help usher in a new age of peace and alleviate catastrophe, whether I want it to or not? Could this be a practical explanation for conveyances of the role it seems I’m desired to fill?
With all of these things swirling in my head and the potential consequence of not following up being “total”, I had a rough time putting myself back together and just surrendered to whatever higher power was at work, as it was far too much to carry. I felt overwhelmed and compelled to talk about these things and ended up finding a Hopi shop in Sedona called Kachina House. It was filled with Kachina dolls that Hopi people had made out of cottonwood root and painted to resemble spirits and ceremonial dancers, but it was the best lead that I had.
After walking in, I asked if there was anyone that I could speak with and got pulled into an office with a delightful and sweet Hopi woman. We sat down and I began talking about my experiences and the dots that appeared to be connecting. I mentioned how what I had seen on Mother’s Day earlier that year resembled the Bethlehem Star and also the Blue Kachina, and my suspicions that they may have been the same forces, to which she said “that would make a lot of sense”.
She validated and affirmed my experience and offered sympathy for the internal difficulty it had brought. She listened intently as I expressed how things appeared to be lining up in seemingly significant ways, and she told me to wait a second while she went and grabbed a small piece of Hopi pottery that had art painted on the top. It was only about the size of my palm and only had a thumb-sized hole in the center of the domed top. Part of the prophecy of the True White Brother is that he would be able to read the “tiponi”, which are clay tablets the Hopi claim they were given by the Great Spirit (God) long ago that relate to prophecy.
After handing me the small clay pot, she asked me what I saw. Encircling the thumb-sized hole was an array of different natural symbols, colors, and animals. I turned over the pot to look at the bottom to see if I was missing anything and noticed it was a quite pricey piece for being so small, making me think it held significance. Going back to the art on top, I looked at it all and tried to settle inside to let myself feel it.
There was what appeared to be a spring scene which seemed to mark the beginning of what was being expressed, with the color yellow, lush branches, and a happy young deer. Following the circle around the hole, it started to look like changing seasons, and I exclaimed with slight excitement “…it’s a life cycle!”, to which the woman responded “now you’re gettin’ it.”
My gaze completed the circle around the hole which ended with the imprint of a bear paw leading back to the hole, and I got struck by a thought. Bear medicine/spirit is where a lot of spiritual practitioners in tribes say they derive their power, which started to seem like a representation of how we all emanate from that hole to do our walk, before going back. The implication it presented was that we were all God, incarnated to live out what was intended as a walk with nature, and that we had all forgotten our divinity with the world’s consequences being the result of our not knowing.
I sat there a bit shuddered, struggling to think of something to say with what had just hit me, and it was perceived by her. It was another compounding exemplification of accruing synchronicity that signified this was all happening in a guided way, which until you experience it you don’t realize can feel overwhelmingly immense. After interpreting the symbols and feeling my energy, she gifted me a copy of the Book of the Hopi and wrote down a list of names for me to go further discuss and explore.
She gave me her phone number so we could stay in touch and wished me well on my journey before I went back to my friend’s father’s house where I had been staying and caught up on some schoolwork. I began reading the Book of the Hopi after not having been much of a book reader up to that point and found it hard to make myself sit and concentrate on the subject matter, especially with how inundated my mind had become. Published in 1963 after being authored by Frank Waters, it is the first time in history that the Hopi had put their oral history down on paper. At first glance, the content seems oversimplified and metaphorical, but I quickly began to realize that everything said should maybe be taken literally.
The Hopi describe worlds that exist between cataclysms where people have thrived. They say we are at the end of the fourth world, with the end of the third being marked by the Great Flood. They say that at the end of previous worlds, Maasaw (the Hopi name for the Lord of the dead) came and stomped on the Hopi’s roof when they went underground to ride out the damage and demanded they let others in. Seeing the evidence for global warming and fiscal policy consequences already starting to arise, the fact that tribes around the four corners stuck around the area is probably because it’s a good place to ride out whatever happens ecologically or societally, and knowing that they’ve taken people in during dangerous times in the past all suggested that there was something to how all of this was being expressed. I closed the book and needed to settle and decompress a little bit and took a few breaths.
The guy that let me stay with him had a couple of dogs; a pitbull and an Alaskan malamute mix. The malamute mix’s name was Simba, and he was a regal elderly dog that seemed like he had a bit of wisdom. He passed away less than a year after this happened, so it’s a special experience for me.
When I took a break from the book and put it aside, he came up and put his head on my lap, staring intensely at the book. I tried petting him but he refused to avert his gaze, just intently staring. I picked the book back up with my left hand, and Simba picked up his head and walked a few steps back and sat down looking at me for a few seconds. I looked at him and then back at the book, and then back at him unwaveringly staring at me and then the book in my hands. I opened the book back up and he slowly laid down as I just gave him a nod with the book open in my hands. He finally rested his head and I kept on reading with echoes in my mind of what the Lakota elder that I had contacted while I was in the clinic emphasized about how spirits will do anything to get our attention.
As I continued, I found striking correlations to my own experience. Towards the end of the third world, the Hopi claim to have had what they refer to as “Patuwvotah”, which translates literally to “water shield” but are more popularly referred to as “flying shields” or “flying gourds”. They were crafts that they say people climbed in or on and would fly away to attack other cities and be back before anybody knew where they came from. Before long, everyone was building them and it is claimed that violence, greed, and abuse of high-tech led to the last collapse, as it appears to be a contributing factor at the end of each world. It also states that the Hopi have the farthest dating historical record of any culture on earth, they claim this isn’t the first planet humans have inhabited, that there is another planet waiting, that this is the last cycle of life on this planet, and that they have lived in the Arizona mesas since at least the year 1,000 AD, making it the longest continually inhabited place in the Americas.
The Hopi having references of the kinds of things I’ve been seeing included in their history, and implications that they’ve had interplanetary capabilities prior to society finding roots on this planet, made me widen my eyes and start hyperventilating a bit. Another thing I was told by the Lakota elder with which I had made contact while I was in the clinic was that the Lakota say that Black people are the only race native to earth, which could explain the melanistic mismatch other races appear to have with the brightness of our sun and gaps in our fossil record.
It was basically too much for me to handle at the time, so I didn’t. I didn’t realize that I had the mental capability of literally avoiding a topic involuntarily due to how difficult it would be to grasp, and I didn’t come around to what it looks like the bigger picture was until months later. If these things are true, it squashes everything that the majority of the world thinks it knows, and with my wrestling of the seeming higher significance of my experience and what it meant for potentially not just the world at large, but reality, my mind kind of threw these other things on top of the mental stack to save for later. To be pushed to the absolute brink of mental, emotional, and existential exhaustion was/is a weight too difficult for words.
A few days before Thanksgiving, I got an email from the job I had been offered stating they were pushing back my start date an additional two weeks, and I felt that I should use this time to keep investigating and decided to visit South Dakota like the elder I had contacted in the clinic had encouraged me to. I made an account on couchsurfing.com to try and find someone to stay with for free.
There happened to be one person on the Wounded Knee reservation on that site, and when I made a request to come stay, she inquired about the reason for my visit. I gave a short synopsis of my story up to that point and she informs me that she is the great-granddaughter of a guy named Old Hollow Horn who had actually rescued Black Elk when he was injured during the Wounded Knee Massacre, and I ended up spending Thanksgiving of 2018 with her and her family. I left for South Dakota on November 20th, 2018 and was accompanied by some additional strange weather during the trip. Not far from the beginning of my trip, something compelled me to look out my window, and when I did, I saw this:
Holding a strong resemblance to the Eye of Ra/Horus, I was a bit blown away by what I was seeing and decided to take a picture. It looks as though there is air being pushed out to both sides from the center of the iris, as if it were actually a potential craft. Zooming in on the iris, it also appears to have six sides, similar to a Star of David.
Later research would indicate that a six-pointed star is also how a water molecule is depicted under a microscope, which interestingly appears to correlate with Hopi “water shields”. Research would also uncover that the original name for the Star of David was the “Shield of David”, implying to me divine protection or that these technologies were made known at that time. When the story of King David says that he angered the Gods (plural) by sending Bathsheba’s husband to die in battle so he could have her and lost his crown, what could the possibilities be that these were the same forces? These concepts are, at the moment, unknowables but still interesting to consider.
There was another contactee that I had connected with through Reddit that let me sleep on he and his roommate’s couch in the small apartment they were given as workers in at a ski resort in Taos. We chatted a bit about what was bringing me through, and I had an expanded edition of Black Elk Speaks that my mother had gifted me that prompted conversation about where my travels had taken me. Once I got to talking about what happened in Tahlequah, OK a few days after Mother’s Day with K, my buddy’s roommate chimed in asking if there had been a Black guy hanging out by the lamp post, which I referenced earlier in the story. He was apparently kind of famous for the area, and I was told that he never asks for money, only things. Recalling what happened at that Love’s gas station, the way that he had been looking at me was of serious interest and curiosity, and I believe I was told he had some sort of schizo-type disorder. Having had experiences before where people of these kinds of persuasions possess incredible perceptive gifts, I became interested in going to try and chat with the guy by the streetlight in Tahlequah.
After making it to the Wounded Knee reservation, I was kind of startled to find the dilapidated condition of a lot of the housing and the detectable sadness and heaviness in the air. Alcohol had ravaged communities and methamphetamine use was on the rise, along with a lot of the negative consequences that always seem to accompany it. I was welcomed by the woman that had allowed me to come and was visited by one of her aunts the next day. We sat at the high top table next to the kitchen and discussed my experiences and the dots that seemed to be connecting. Her aunt brought a book she wanted me to take a look at.
She asked me what I knew about Heyoka, and I went into detail referencing my research saying things like “they’re contrarians, sacred clowns/jesters, their colors are black and white representing duality”, and she cuts me off and sternly says “they’re healers”. I kind of froze and again had that feeling set in of an overwhelming sense of what that might mean in relation to my circumstances. We had dinner, and I did my best not to ask questions to avoid any potential disrespect. It became apparent that there was more that was understood than was being said, and I decided I would try and seek out a medicine man to speak with about my situation to learn more and hopefully find direction. I was told that there aren’t many left and that the culture had undergone detrimental westernization, causing a lot of people with gifts of various types to suppress their spirituality rather than develop it.
I was referred to a medicine man down the road, and after receiving directions based on landmarks and not addresses, was finally able to track him down after going to buy a bag of tobacco for praying to offer as a gift, which I was recommended to do and is the only way I was told a medicine man would help me. I knocked at his door, and when he opened it saw me and then scanned the yard with his eyes in a somewhat surprised and shocked way, as if he was seeing things around me that I couldn’t. I made careful effort to not ask questions and introduced myself and my reason for visiting, saying I was told he could help me. He invited me in and I sat in a chair to the right of the front door while he sat on the couch in front of me. I gave a short rundown of my experience and had brought my copy of Black Elk Speaks, and when I told him about my experience and went to hand him the book, he put his palm up and waved to say he didn’t need to see it.
I was visibly distraught, seeking guidance for something that was bigger than me and likely bigger than I could comprehend. I revealed to him how black and white had been making appearances in my life, my experiences with lightning, and what I had learned about Heyoka. He told me “you need to take this to YOUR people. The words that you would have to speak would be different from the words I would have to speak”. Understanding the westernized mindset and disregard for spiritual things, especially pertaining to what I had begun to uncover, I said “they’ll kill me”, to which he dropped and nodded his head in agreement. I mentioned that I didn’t know why I was being shown what I had been, to which he said “these visitations follow a lineage of power”, and I had suspected that this might have something to do with genetics.
If what I had read in the article about the deer woman, which referenced men coming down from the sky mating with women from earth meant anything, it could be that there is an actual “bloodline” of higher consciousness beings (the Gods), Jesus potentially having been one of them. A lull came in the conversation and I felt as though there was nothing else that would be said. I glanced up from the floor to see him sitting upright and stern staring out the window to a field covered in snow with his palms on his knees, and his rigidity was just one example of many that would later come that indicated that people familiar with these things seem to attempt to act in a particular way so as to not unnecessarily influence perceptions or create deviation from whatever path it is that I or anyone else is on.
On Thanksgiving day, the woman that was letting me stay with her had introduced me to an elder within her family, and we visited Rapid City and got a hotel room to hang out and watch football since they didn’t have cable on the reservation. The name of the hotel was fittingly the Foothills Inn, when foothills are popularly regarded as where someone begins a journey. We sat in the room while the Cowboys played the Redskins (go figure), and the conversation slowly turned more serious. I was told to not repeat some of the things I was told, which I won’t, but the elder in my host’s family began asking me some questions.
He started describing specific things I had seen in the sky without me having mentioned them and asked if I had seen such things, to which I answered that I had with a little bit of shock. He asked me if I had seen a portal, and I was brought back to the vertical blue slit in the sky I saw over Shelton State Community College that had some streaks dart out of it. When I said I felt like I had, he nodded and kept on mulling through his thoughts.
He had his head slightly down and his eyes distant like he was picking up on something coming through, and he blurts out, “you can’t meet the Gods”. There had been a strong desire in me to meet whatever it was that had been piloting what I had been seeing, so I asked him why. He responded, “they’re too powerful, they’ll suck the life right outta ya”. I was reminded of how inarguable some of the presences I had felt were, and how things did get a bit blurry and meshed in my more up close and personal experiences. He then asked me “who are you?”, which felt kind of confusing at first. Sitting with my legs crossed at the foot of the bed where he was sat back against the pillows, I took a deep breath and began to relax and zoomed out my perspective and felt that I was a part of everything, which everything is. Understanding this common connection provoked me to answer “I am everyone”, to which he let out an assuring “ok”, nodding his head. Zooming out contemplatively, I then said “I am everything”, to which he responded the same way.
His brow lowered and his eyes focused distantly, and he began wagging his finger saying “you’re the sage! That’s what you are…”, and his face showed that he was mentally working something out. He then told me that he had a gift where he could see into people’s futures. He said nobody knows how he knows what he does. He jostled in his seat, bowing his head and closing his eyes tight and said “let’s see what we got here”. After a few seconds, his mouth popped open with his eyes, resembling a surprised little kid, and he said in an exclamatory way “you’re gonna be famous!”. Sitting there in shock and not reacting to what was said, he continued saying “you’re gonna have so much money you’re not gonna know what to do with it!”. I asked how something like that could be possible, and he said in a brushing off kind of way, “I don’t know, some senator’s gonna send you into the future or something”. Not knowing what to make of what was being said or how to respond while displaying what I’m sure was discomfort, he let out a comforting and assuring “since you found me, it’s all gonna be okay”.
It all felt too perfect to be real. I had traversed through a half-dozen leaps of faith, sacrificed what all finances had come my way because of the perceived fallout if I didn’t, and was now receiving direct references and affirmations to the things I had been experiencing and the notions they gave. Before departing, the elder started giggling to himself a little bit and said “eagle’s gonna bring you a message, and when it does you get out and pray right there!”. The whole interaction left me feeling like I was a part of this mystical story being told, and the results of my efforts reinforced that I was on the right track.
Later that day, it felt like a prime opportunity to go visit Black Elk Peak, which was formerly named Harney Peak, to give thanks for all that had happened. It sits at the highest elevation in South Dakota. Since I was in a sedan and had chosen to take a back trail up the mountain, I found myself at a place that wasn’t traversable with my car. I made it to a couple of miles from the peak and came across a downed tree branch I couldn’t move or get past, so I pulled off of a side road into a clearing and parked the car. There was a cloud wall coming over the hill in front of me, and after taking a moment to return some moisture to the earth, I turned around to see that something had appeared to move through the cloud like a sled through snow.
Immediately after, I noticed some strange weather phenomena occurring around me. There was a high number of clouds that were low, dense, and mostly lingering just above the tree line that appeared to follow me. With recent research of Hopi “water shields” and thunder beings echoing in my head, I started toying with the concept of whether or not crafts could have the ability to cloak themselves in moisture. The first cloud in this next video almost appeared to have a frequency or static surrounding it, and I don’t underestimate the possibility that the abundance of low clouds that appeared to follow me may have had something hidden within them. I was also listening to local public radio on a whim and the words coming through the radio became oddly relevant to what I had been coming to understand about these things in a spiritual sense.
A few days later, I was hanging around Rapid City trying to plot my next move and managed to capture something on video. Emerging low above a tree line but below the clouds, a solid lit white light appeared and coasted through the sky. I began recording and positioned my phone on the window of my car and stabilized it to record this.
Trickling across the sky, it moved almost like an insect, zig-zagging as it went. I decided to go back to Dallas shortly after and took a few days to rest up where I had been living and to finish up the semester of online classes, and I ended up making an A in every class. In the few days that I spent back in Dallas regathering myself, I experienced some things that were pretty strange.
Feeling an immense weight that drove me into action even at my most exhausted, I was able to obtain a meeting with the head of a metaphysics institute in Dallas that reserved a room for us to have a discussion at a public library. I had also traveled to a Buddhist temple, a synagogue, and a few churches during that time trying to do outreach or see if I could find someone knowledgeable enough to point me in new directions with research I hadn’t yet discovered, which did turn up some results.
I was nervous and unsure of what the meeting could have in store, but I had already met a few folks that had been making a buck out of people looking for an answer so was hopeful since he agreed to meet me just to chat. It was raining when we met, and I brought the copy of Jonathan Livingston Seagull with me from the clinic. We met and sat at the table in this rectangular room with a rectangular desk, and we went through our backgrounds a little to get better acquainted.
He began opening up, saying things like he had “sources” that he could meditate and connect with that were higher consciousness beings that originate near Orion. He continued to say that the only reason he agreed to meet with me is that he did a session and asked if this guy reaching out to him to meet was the real deal, and he got a yes. Regardless of whether he was being truthful, there being legitimate truth to what he said, or if the whole thing was a grift, I don’t think anything could have settled my disbelief at the entire situation at the time.
I told him that I was starting to see expressions throughout media that represented the archetypal resonance that I had been experiencing, like Darth Vader being beholden to a destructive empire and Luke wanting balance, finding myself in a clinic where the Chaplain’s name literally translated to “Savior of the World”, and having that book I was named after that seemed like it was placed there for me, and I’m sure a few more I fail to recall.
He brought up the movie Avatar by James Cameron and asked me if I got what it was trying to get across, and I sat thinking for a second. He broke the silence to say that we incarnate to live out desires in these bodies, and the metaphor in Avatar was that we are all basically spirits wearing meat suits that came to have an experience. Recognizing some of the patterns and resonance in the stories that we create that find their way to us seems intentional, and it began to seem at that point that what I was in the throes of may intend on making an example out of me one way or another, and that none of this was actually about me but happening through me. He also made a reference to Avatar and was sure to say that he “saw” me, my intention, and what I was trying to get ahead of for everyone else’s sake. Upon making it known that I would be traveling back out West to continue following up in Arizona, he told me that he was introduced to a psychic that was someone he felt comfortable enough in their ability to recommend, and I established contact with her to see if I could arrange a meet.
There was one day before heading back west when I was on the back deck of the house where I had been renting a room, having a smoke. I was taking time to reflect on what had been slowly revealing itself to me and processing things one evening around 5:00 P.M. under a sky of low dense and hazy/foggy clouds from the nearby lake that were brightly illuminated by the cascade of the setting sun. I was looking up at the sky over the house and from the left slowly entered a flat-looking rectangle of light that made its way in over the house, up what looked around 5x the height of the two-story house. It was a perfect rectangle with sharp corners that looked two dimensional. It flickered flashes of light in waves across the bottom and hovered around in the low fog while I watched for about 20 seconds before feeling a vibration coming from my phone in my pocket. I reached in and pulled it out to find a text from a woman named Sharon that I had sat down and spoken with a few weeks prior about my experiences that was a member of the Dallas area MUFON group. She sent me a picture of Chief Arvol Looking Horse of the Lakota tribe that contained this quote:
After reading what she had sent and looking at how strange the timing of it was, I looked back up at the rectangle that hung above me and felt disarmingly immense pressure, but also comfort. Having the dots connect that Sharon could have been influenced to deliver that text at that time unbenknonst to her, my arms dropped to my side in awe and what felt like divine intention as I again surrendered to whatever it is I appeared to be caught in the middle of. Internally, I began to confront the task that it looked like was ahead of me that it felt like I could only survive by surrendering towards.
Feeling terrified but empowered by a sense of unwavering devotion, I drove back to Arizona from Texas on December 8th and slept in the car that night in New Mexico. The man that I had stayed with in Sedona was gracious enough to gift me a sleeping bag capable of withstanding below freezing temperatures, and it was a gift that I didn’t know I would need.
During my journey out, the weight of everything really started to hit me. There were a few times I had to pull over and cry as hard as I ever have at what was being expressed, and feeling heavily that environmental collapse, domineering private interests, intentional division, and the devaluing of money were soon going to come, I didn’t feel like I had a choice but to throw myself at change and confronting disharmony, even if it amounted to nothing. My body was weak, I was having trouble eating, was sleeping in the car, and my mother was the only person in my immediate family that didn’t abandon me with the lack of clarity at that point. Feeling like it wouldn’t matter anyway if I was perceiving things correctly and failed, I found peace in knowing I’d find peace in doing what I could.
I had communicated with a psychic in Sedona that I was referred to by someone that was the head of a metaphysics institute in Dallas, and after expressing the position that I was in and my need to conserve finances, she agreed to meet with me free of charge. We met at 11:00 A.M. on December 11th of 2018, and after sitting down, I expressed many of the synchronicities that had been occurring. There was a lot about my experience that seemed to center around the Pleiades, and she informed me that this was the group with which she had a connection. I had also felt that difficult times were on the horizon for the world, and it felt like I had been pushed in the direction of either helping prevent or accommodate whatever difficulties were coming. When I said I had been feeling something but was hesitant about whether or not I should say what it was, she told me it was alright to say it. I said “society only has a few years left”, and she nodded in agreement. When I expressed that I felt obligated to help prevent it, she told me that it was something that had to happen and was the result of generations of karma coming full circle. She was able to help provide some insight and calm my nerves about the situation.
The next day on December 12th, I made my way to the Hopi reservation for the first time to start following up on the list of names I was provided by the woman at Kachina House. For those that have never been, the Hopi reservation actually exists within the Navajo reservation and overlooks about 50 miles of desert in every direction.
I immediately began following up on the list of names provided to me and setup camp in my car in the camping area beside the Hopi Cultural Center on the top of Second Mesa. When I arrived, there was already another man camped out there named Toby who said he was from Montana. I asked him what brought him to the reservation and he simply said that he didn’t know why he came and that he just felt compelled to come, which I found strange. The next morning at sunrise, we got up around the same time and were greeted shortly after by an older Hopi woman that brought us breakfast burritos with the sunrise behind her over the cultural center. She had a kind of solemn but reverent presence about her and said “I’m not really sure why I came to bring this, but something just told me to come. Make sure you don’t waste any of that”. It all felt really strange and almost seemed like an offering of sorts.
Later that same day after I had followed up on a couple of names on the list I was given, we started talking about Hopi prophecy. It is said that the True White Brother would have two wise and knowledgeable helpers, one bearing the mark of a Maltese cross, depending on which source of the prophecy you reference.
https://www.welcomehome.org/prophecy/hopi1.html
“The True White Brother will bring with him two great, intelligent and powerful helpers, one of whom will have a sign of a swastika (a masculine symbol of purity), and the sign of the sun. The second great helper will have the sign of a Celtic cross with red lines (representing female life blood) between the arms of the cross.”
When I told this to Toby, he rolled up his sleeve and showed me a tattoo of his:
Although it’s not a direct representation, I still found it startling that he was there and had this mark. When I asked him why he came up to the mesas, he said he didn’t really know. He said it was as if something was just pulling him that way so he decided to come for a few days. The different components of what I had been researching as they correlated with my experience became more and more real to an uncomfortable extent.
He gifted me an extra pair of coveralls he had, which made the nights sleeping in my car bearable as I was underprepared for my trip up there. Waking up for the first three days to snowflakes falling on my face from the crack in my window for ventilation as I huddled in my newly gifted coveralls and sleeping bag, I continued following up on the list of names I was given. I told my story to multiple elders, a couple of times with tears in my eyes due to the immense gravity of what had been expressed to me through experience and research. I kept getting referred to another person and began to feel like I was being ran in circles, but the stakes were too high for me to stop. After telling my story to six people, I was referred up to the head spiritual honcho in the tribe, the Kachina Chief. He met me at the Second Mesa post office where I spoke to him in his truck while he kept a somewhat dismissive and distant demeanor regarding what I came to discuss. I felt an internal block and was suddenly compelled to say “even if I’m not the Pahana (True White Brother), I can still do a lot of good”, and his eyes lit up as he said, “that’s the first test”. He ran me through a couple of other smaller tests before inviting me over to his home.
I followed him over and we sat in his medicine room while I ran through my experience and a lot of the things that appeared to be lining up, and he complemented my suspicions by affirming metaphors I had suspected and ended up completing a lot of my sentences. The feeling of the room was electric as all of these points felt like they were connecting and I felt as though I was finally starting to make progress as to what all of this meant and the direction it was heading. In regards to fulfilling the prophecy, he told me to go around and visit some villages, repair some roofs, let them know what I was about, and eventually help lead a march on the tribal council. Since the dissolving of the tribal council is part of their prophecy, it appears to be a prerequisite to permitting the taking in of others for when things in society start to get really bad.
I went back to the campsite next to the Hopi Cultural Center where Toby was camped and we had dinner that night together. Around 10:00 P.M. after nightfall, we began seeing an abundance of aerial phenomenon of different types. We were getting flyovers from some crafts that made sound and some that didn’t, and none of the lights on any of them flashed like the beacon lights of a plane or helicopter would. We must have seen more than 10 different kinds of crafts and lights fly over us that were all decently low and directly overhead as they passed, and about an hour later, we saw something truly strange and compelling. The stars were out, and east of us directly over the Cultural Center, there suddenly appeared a bright blueish-white light in the sky that was very luminous and not too far off in the distance. We were both immediately drawn to it in silence as it started fluttering and swirling around, almost dancing in the sky like an LED light attached to the tip of a wand someone was waving. It glided back and forth and around for a good 15 or 20 seconds before just dimming away and disappearing. The legend of the Blue Kachina says:
“The end of all Hopi ceremonialism will come when a kachina removes his mask during a dance in the plaza before uninitiated children.”
If any possibility exists that what Toby and I saw that night was the Blue Kachina, or if what my girlfriend and I saw on the morning of Mother’s Day 2018 was, it appears significant and deserves to be mentioned. It also seems necessary to say that since witnessing this display, the world appears to have lost its collective mind, and “purification” could reference the mutual cancelling out of all the lesser people and paradigms that pervade us. The following day, I met again with the elder that I had last spoken with and he asked me if I had seen the display with his head tilted down and his eyes looking up widely at me with gleaming interest. I told him I had seen it and began to feel immense weight and pressure regarding the entire situation and how I could help bring about the changes I most deeply feel in me need to happen. After spending three days sleeping in my car at the campsite, a younger Hopi friend I had made said that I could take a shower at his mother’s house. The Hopi name for God of the Earth/Lord of death is “Maasaw”, and the house I was invited into just happened to be at the head of Maasaw’s Trail that runs atop the edge of Second Mesa in front of the village of Shungopavi, which I was told by others got their attention.
Being able to see about 50 miles, it’s truly a breathtaking view with magnificent sunrises and sunsets. My friend’s mother invited me in and upon hearing about my story, she became elated and started prancing around the house going “it’s Christmas, it’s Christmas!” while giving sporadic hugs. It had long been uncomfortable receiving all the references to me either being some type of similar figure or that I’m supposed to fill the shoes of one, but I had arrived at the conclusion that for the greater good, the best thing that I could do is just “be it”. I was invited to stay at the house and was given a mattress on the floor in the back room of the house that had a wood-burning stove in the corner for heat. I would later find out that the couple that took me in were bootleggers that would bring booze up from Winslow, AZ, but I understood it was none of my business. I shuttled the family that took me in for a Walmart run and cooked for them one of the first nights I was there.
There had been an older white man that had been at the cultural center that was a vagabond/tramper holing up in an abandoned building nearby. He was a few inches taller than six foot, had thick grey hair that came to his shoulders, a long yellow raincoat, and a brimmed hat. We had a couple of interactions prior to me being taken in by a Hopi family, and he always seemed like he was holding something back. He was always at the cultural center and I ended up giving him a couple of rides.
During one of the times I was taking him somewhere on the reservation, the idea came to me to offer him a song request for the ride. He thought on it for a second and arrived firmly at wanting to hear this song:
I couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by how relevant and perfect the lyrics were to what I was looking at trying to help with, and it became a favorite song of mine.
I would soon be ran through a series of tests that I didn’t know at the time were being administered. The family I stayed with sold alcohol, and the woman of the house came to me distraught and said that one of their customers had ripped them off and she wanted me to take her to their house to demand payment, to which I responded that I wasn’t there for that reason. She pleaded with me and I agreed to take her to their house. I sat in the car while she went to try and get her money and she came back to the car with a pair of hedge shears that she said were worth about what they owed her, and I told her if she wanted to keep them she could walk back to her house and that I wasn’t going to contribute to theft. She tossed them out of the car and we returned. A couple of days later, one of her cousins was at her home and requested a ride across the reservation and while in the car asked what I was doing out there. I shared my ideas for eco-villages and some of the things that led me there, and she piped up “oh, you’re the one we’ve been waiting for”, to which I just said “yea I saw the signs and decided to come”.
We finished the task that she asked me to assist her with and she requested to be dropped off at her home in Shungopovi. When we arrived, other members of her house were unloading the car after returning from a Walmart trip in Winslow, and I assisted in bringing in jugs of water. During the ride, she said she had a stick with black and white markings that she wanted me to look at and interpret, which I said I would. The woman of the house questioned why I was there after finishing unloading the car, and I told her what the other woman had told me about looking at a particular stick. She asked in a somewhat sarcastic and scripted tone, “What are you? A medicine man or something?”. The question felt pointed as the room fell silent and still, and I felt as though my answer would influence things, so I responded “I don’t think that’s really for me to say”. I quickly became uncomfortable as it seemed I was being prodded through the situation and took my leave shortly after.
After a few days at the house, someone had come over to buy some alcohol and came into the back room where my setup was located. A guy that seemed to be in his late 30s came in cutting up and laughing with another friend of his and sat on my pillow on the bed, which I found disrespectful but didn’t make a fuss. I had a thick and durable blanket with tribal designs that I had picked up at a thrift store in Sedona a few weeks earlier that I had grown to love, and the guy that sat on my pillow started putting his dirty boots all over it. Something rose in me and I struck my finger pointing at him and angrily yelled at him to get his boots off my blanket, which he visibly recoiled from. After a moment of silence and an apology expressing how important that blanket was to me, he looks at me with wide eyes and then up at his friend and goes “he’s a medicine man, dude”. He then asked me if he could hold my finger, and when I asked why, he said he had a gift where he could see into people.
My right index finger has a scar surrounding the last knuckle from when I sliced it on a broken window when I was a child. My paternal grandfather had also had an accident and had a scar on his index finger as well. This was the finger he chose to hold. Feeling as though I had nothing to hide, I gave him permission and sat back in the chair where I was sitting as he took a knee in front of me and held my right index finger between his index finger and thumb. He bowed his head and closed his eyes for what must have been less than 30 seconds, and he let go and popped his head up with a distant look glancing around with his breath becoming heavy. He rose to his feet and walked to the corner towards the wood-burning stove and said “I’m gonna make you a fire”. He proceeded to build one for me but what he said felt like it had a dual meaning.
The next day, I was sitting in my car in the dirt driveway of the family that had taken me in overlooking the mesas kind of taking everything in and wondering what to do with it all. The guy that had held my finger the previous night rode up in the passenger seat of a big Dodge truck, and the driver asked me what I was doing out there on the reservation. I told him I was trying to help and had been experiencing some strange stuff, and he invited me to his house in Shungopavi at the end of that road. The two guys and I entered the house and sat down in the living room where I told a condensed version of my story and explained the dots that appeared to be connecting. His demeanor quickly changed to being very happy and open where he went on to say “first, we’re family, second, the Hopi are Egyptian”. I found this strange to hear at first, but if all the other things I had been learning were connecting, I wasn’t going to rule anything out.
The conversation calmed down a little and we migrated to the large kitchen where there was a couch up against the wall, and things then got weird. The younger of the two guys made a reference to the scar on my finger, asking how it happened. When I mentioned it happened when I was a kid, they both got giddy. Hopi, like many tribes, are matrilineal. That means that in their culture, women are the landowners and have to be courted by men, which would have the ability to plant crops on those lands after a woman’s family permits them to marry.
They kept referring to their relationships in a non-western and suggestive way. The older of the two would gesture at the younger guy and say something along the lines of “if he’s younger than me, and he’s my uncle…”, as they both leaned in my direction as if they wanted me to finish the sentence. I finally came out and said, “what, am I everyone’s father? That’s why this is happening to me?”. They both lit up and said “yea dude, you’re not Jesus, you’re Horus!”. In shock, I took a couple steps back and raised my hands behind my head and just blurted out “I am Horus!?”. After getting a couple of independent gestures and references prior to being told this, it immediately propelled me to an elevated point where I felt kind of tossed about in the scale of it all and what it meant.
After acclimating to what I was told and settling down a bit having shed a few tears and endured some bodily shaking, I started talking with what felt like pure spirit emanating out of me. I lamented the way that things had gotten and made references to how the higher levels of consciousness the Hopi and many others had attained was due to evolution and spiritual focus, as they both cheered on my words. They were drinking and having a good time as I was having a difficult time taking everything in, and they said I could spend the night in the spare room at their house. We sat in the kitchen and I felt compelled to tell them what I had been seeing in detail. As I spoke of what happened on Mother’s Day earlier that year, one of them repeated everything I said in Hopi as the listener kept his eyes closed tight, almost as if he was transmitting what he was hearing.
When I finished describing what had happened that night, the older of the two slowly sat back in his chair with his brow tense and a distant look. He rose his gaze up to me and said in a sort of solemn and slow way that felt serious, “…those were Gods…”. I quickly responded and said “no, I think they were people, just really advanced people technologically and spiritually”, when I now realize I was just adding additional explanation to what the term “Gods” could actually mean. They began to get lively again shortly after, and at some point while watching them drink and celebrate, I just decided to get up and go into the other room to rest after becoming emotionally exhausted from the ordeal. After I closed the door and laid on the bed, I heard the guy that had held my finger the previous night say to the other in a hushed but serious tone “don’t ever doubt me”. I went to sleep and went with the older of the two to visit his family’s land where he had grown up gardening to scope out what possibilities to help there were.
We walked around and examined a few things on the land that could use improvement before settling up on a hill where this last picture was taken. Prior to us heading up, I heard what sounded like jets and looked up to see two fighter jets flying decently low directly over the land we were on. I look over to my friend and said “so it’s done?”, and he went “it’s done!”. I just waved at the planes and he joined along shortly before they banked off. I didn’t think much of it, but prior to this happening I was getting calls at least once a day with area codes from places that were always named “Fort _____” that would ring once that I couldn’t call back, almost as if I was being pinged for my location. If there were any truth to the indicators that were being presented to me and how the high strangeness around me was unfolding, I’d imagine it would attract some attention, which also coincides with previous appearances of military craft at important times in my story.
Later that day, I went and hung out up at the Cultural Center with Toby. He was preparing dinner by the campfire and we were greeted by a frequent visitor that we would later learn was the Chief of the Eagle Clan within the tribe. He stood alongside me as Toby tended the fire, and suddenly a newer model Toyota truck with tinted windows pulled up on the other side of a row of cedar trees to our right, about 30 yards away. Not knowing how sensitive my presence or the things that I had been learning or discussing was, I was suspicious. Without warning, Toby went into panic mode and started saying he needed to leave. He hastily started packing up his campsite as I asked him if he was alright, and he said he was but he felt like he just needed to get out of there. I looked over at the newly arrived truck in the vicinity and then back at Toby, and I asked the clan Chief beside me “that has something to do with whoever’s in that truck, doesn’t it?”, to which he nodded and hummed in agreement. I started having the impression that there was a possibility that Toby was being made to feel the way he was, as if someone was projecting their will on him to feel fear to send him away. With enough time to focus on spiritual matters and develop in evolutionary ways, I don’t rule out that this is what I was being shown they are capable of. It could very well be that if the Hopi are responsible for the phenomena I’ve been witnessing, they can influence from a distance without people being any the wiser.
The next day, I accompanied the Kachina Chief on a service mission with a couple of other folks that were from another city in Arizona that had donated backpacks, school supplies, and some fruit as we went to divide it up and distribute. As we were atop Second Mesa overlooking the expanse from the village of Moshongnovi, from behind my back, he tells me “it’s a reservation, who is it being reserved for?”. All of these points seemed to complement each other and it appeared as though I was being told things in a progression that painted a complete picture, and it was being pieced to me in a way that made it seem as though those delivering the pieces knew what to say and when so I would put things together on my own, and I didn’t end up doing so until after I left the reservation.
Later that day, the Kachina Chief and I were sat in his medicine room having a discussion, and I was beginning to become distraught about my resources and perceived lack of progress. Some time during the discussion, I looked towards an art piece of the Blue Kachina on his wall that I had glanced at before but never focused on. It had a depiction of the Blue Kachina in the center with strands of white thread coming out its smiling mouth, surrounded by a circular bouquet of turkey feathers overlaid with peacock feathers in a geometric pattern. I felt a sudden surge through my chest as I realized and blurted out, “That’s what I saw!” with my finger pointed at it in shock. The Kachina Chief just dropped his head like I wasn’t getting it, and I wasn’t. There had begun to be soft but direct indications that the Hopi have had the kinds of things I’ve been seeing for a long time, but my mind couldn’t process that this connection indicated there’s a possibility that the display that K and I saw on Mother’s Day of ’18 could have been orchestrated by them (remembering they claimed to have that kind of tech way back when in their history).
Spending the next few days confused and trying to process, I went back to stay with the family that had taken me in. The younger of the two men that had told me I was Horus was over at their house on the night of December 21st before attending a ceremony in the kivas. He told me not to go outside while they were doing what they were, and that they were going to “let some things out”. When I asked why, he said “because they’ll kill you”. The world has become increasingly unrecognizable since I ventured to follow up on these things in late 2018, and I have pondered whether my response could have triggered something bigger.
I had started to run low on funds while waiting for my next disbursement of financial aid and had been trying to ration. Starting to think forward about what to do so I could stay and give effort, a vehicle I could live out of started to seem ideal. With plans to go swap or tow back my car once funds became available, I went over to the Chief’s home one morning. He had a square folding table underneath the window in the kitchen with a few chairs, with a ham, cracker, and cheese arrangement in a package on the table. He offered, and I gratefully started snacking as we talked. I could feel this essence, like I was so close to something and couldn’t fully figure out what it was. My demeanor reflected my confused perception as we discussed things I can’t remember.
The conversation shifted where I only remember what I was told in this moment, but the Chief led into saying in a stern and exclamative tone “and it remains to be seen…who is going to sit as King…on THAT mountain!”, as he whipped and pointed his finger at the top of second mesa. I kept my eyes down with apprehensive body language as I didn’t respond to what was said. The shock of having an unprovoked notion of affirmation that had yet gone unspoken shook me in an unsettling way. Elements of how this had been expressed had suggested that these understandings need to remain respectfully unspoken and not confronted directly, which is how I attempted to approach. I had a great deal of confusion about how all of this had been coming at me and started limiting contact a little after this interaction while waiting for my student refund.
The family I had been staying with was having a baby and I couldn’t stay at the home during the baby-naming ceremony so went and camped out in my car again at the cultural center. I was conversing with the elder mentor I had found and was discussing the possibility of me staying with him in his medicine room in the large shed behind his home. He tells me “you’ve already failed two tests”, and I looked back on my time out there and began to feel as though there wasn’t any definite path to what it had been expressed I was “meant” to accomplish. I asked him “is testing each other really the best use of our time?”, and a tension developed in the room. I decided that if I were going to continue working towards developing things on the reservation that I needed accommodations that didn’t make me dependent on someone letting me stay with them. I departed from the Chief’s after relaying my plan, and I then went up to Colorado to try and find an RV or similar vehicle I could bring back.
On the morning of January 19th, 2019, I slept in my car outside of Pagosa Springs, CO and woke up at about 6:30 A.M. before continuing towards Denver. Before arriving in Pagosa Springs, I was coming down a hill before sunrise. As my headlights started to level out at the bottom of the hill, I noticed a herd of elk crossing the road from left to right. It was below 0 degrees Fahrenheit and I applied the brakes but didn’t want to start skidding. I drifted left to try and find the back of the line of elk and ended up bouncing one off of the hood of the car. My airbags didn’t deploy and the elk ended up being fine, but it completely pancaked my hood and totaled the car. There was also an antler scrape going down the rear passenger window, so if I hadn’t drifted left to find the back of the line, I could have had antlers coming through the windshield. I waited in -3 weather for a state trooper to come and assist me afterwards.
I found out the hard way that my father had been lying to me about the car having been paid off, so I was left high and dry in Colorado and fortunately was availed a rental through my insurance policy. After some meandering and processing, I decided to come back to Alabama and stay with my mother to save up for another vehicle to continue chipping at the situation.
As I sat waiting to go through the process of the rental car in the Colorado cold that afternoon, I opened up my phone to listen to some music to pass the time and relax and saw what was playing while I nearly froze waiting for the state trooper to come and help me out. I was beyond grateful that I wasn’t hurt physically with what happened, but the penetration of the point of the joke made it all feel aligned.
Having a recent refund of student loan money for the spring and everything kind of coming apart, I decided to go to Las Vegas, NV to see if I could sit at a poker table and whip something up to keep at my efforts. Sleeping in the rental and cutting my losses, I headed back east and ended up getting pulled over by a state trooper for doing five over coming down a hill with traffic. The paper bag with dispensary canisters of different strains were visible as he approached on the passenger side, and the look on his face as he invited me to his cruiser to talk made me nervous, but my demeanor of how typical this would be garnered some noticed authenticity.
I sat and filled him in on what my recent history had been like and how I was in a bit of a crisis. All he did was confiscate what was in the bag without searching the car, and there was a different bag beside the one he took that was better-tied that also had cannabis, which I was grateful for. He wrote me a ticket for possession and one for driving with an out of state license, but he let me go.
As I continued east, I drove as far as I could and slept in the car at a gas station with a large side lot off the interstate in Bunker Hill, KS at about 3:00 in the morning. I awoke to a flashlight tapping the window, which was cracked for ventilation. Two cops on both sides of the car watched me crawl out of the layers inside the sleeping bag and stand to talk to them, shuddered and distraught. They assured me they were going to find whatever was in the car, and I was completely honest with them, which didn’t keep them from peeling the panel off the door of the rental.
When I apprehensively asked the officer if I was being arrested, he responded “well, you’ve been honest with us and we know it’s personal use, so we’re just gonna take your stuff and let you go”. I was overcome with intense emotions that nearly brought me to tears as a trend was starting to appear. I told the officer that I was raised being given all kinds of pharmaceuticals and that THC was the only thing that really ever worked for me, and he had sympathy with my circumstances. They returned to their car parked behind mine as my glance turned towards the upper left corner of the dash and driver window. A bald eagle flying a few hundred feet up entered view off to the left with a direction of about 2–7 if I were facing 12 on a clock.
The feeling that overcame me was so intense that the thought of getting out and praying with them still there and all of nature (and perhaps those attuned) watching completely froze me, but I was internally crumpled to my knees. All that I had thus far been through was enough to completely rattle my core repeatedly, leaving me with little recourse other than to acclimate or see myself out over how difficult to face it had all become. Surrender became my only option, and if there were anything greater that I were to do, the eagle signifies that nature itself desires to sustain my efforts and will carry me as long as I serve and align. The gratitude, the depth, the incomprehensibility of the recent premonitions of an elder going smack, and the decade long journey I had been on absolutely rocked me and my ability to deal with it.
While traveling back towards Alabama, I decided to stop in Tahlequah and try to talk to the guy by the streetlight. It was just after dark, and he was talking to someone out the driver window of their car. As I parked and started walking his direction but waiting for them to finish, he glanced my direction and then quickly back before breaking conversation. The driver left and I approached him, trying to introduce myself. He was walking away from me when I first spoke as he sternly said “no thank you!”, continuing on walking away. Confused, I tried one more time to say I just wanted to talk for a second, and he turned around while back-stepping, saying “I’m good…it’s an honor to meet you though”, with a strange amount of emphasis to sound respectful. He looked up immediately after he finished speaking to above and behind my head while taking steps backward, eventually leading to a full sprint with intermittent glances back as he ran away on the sidewalk as I stood there confused and overwhelmed.
It’s probably impossible for me to convey the sheer pressure and weight my experience has put on me, and I had been medicating with cannabis to soften the blow and keep from collapsing under the immensity of what I felt. Less than a half mile away from my mother’s house after driving clear across the country, I was pulled over by an officer for supposedly failing to yield at a stop sign. There had been times in the past where my honesty with officers had been the only thing that saved me, and I had been compelled to practice authenticity at all costs with it being expressed that there is nothing more important than truth. With my entire life inside the rental car, I chose to make the officer aware that I had some cannabis that I had for medicinal reasons, which resulted in me receiving a charge.
I quickly found a job at a wing/sports restaurant, and my randomly generated employee number (which only added to the strangeness) ended up being #111.
There was a lot of yelling in the kitchen which eventually started to wear on me, and I chose to seek out employment at another restaurant, which was the only work I felt I could authentically do. I soon learned that there was a Mellow Mushroom opening in Tuscaloosa and felt that I would get along in that environment a lot better. When I went to apply, I spoke with one of the managers who pretty much hired me on the spot without filling out an application.
Since all of my belongings were in storage across the country in Texas, I slept uncomfortably on my mother’s couch for six months while paying $90 a month to a storage facility, as well as $25 a week to a lawyer that was helping me with my charge. My father had refused to substitute paperwork that gave me the ability to rescue my belongings, claiming there was a liability on him if there was anything illegal in the unit. The pain from learning that I may lose everything over his dissonant inaction, after being misled about my car being paid off, was detrimental to my emotional wellness. With a current inability to properly put the pieces together that had been illustrated, I was able to find some coworkers that could discuss the trail that I was on with some level of intrigue and curiosity. With a lingering charge that stood to deviate me from a path of greatly expressed significance, being ostracized from my family over my father’s projected insecurity and fears, getting aches and poor rest from sleeping on an unaccommodating couch, and having to put on a happy face to go serve food to people that were oftentimes less than appreciative of the service, it was a uniquely distressing time in my life.
The dreams that I began having around then seemed to contain decipherable significance. There was one where I began walking up a wall and then on a ceiling during heavy emotional upheaval, and the walls and ceiling bled black under my feet with every step I took. Another with less difficult interpretation plays back in my mind frequently. My mother’s parents had a farm while I was growing up, and the dream began outside of their farmhouse at dusk underneath a beautiful orange and purple sky. They sold the farm around the time I was 10 and moved into a small garden home, and the interior of the farmhouse when I went inside had the layout of the garden home (smaller and stuffy) that they moved into. In their living room was two recliners separated by a nightstand with a lamp, and in each of them slept a younger adolescent boy and girl, seemingly coming from mixed backgrounds.
I walked into the kitchen and saw a heavier set, tall, and younger Lakota man with a buzzed haircut walking back and forth being followed by a shorter and older Lakota woman that was making evident appeals in the Lakota language. When I heard her mention the Wakinyan (Lakota for thunder beings), I felt like this man was someone that I needed to talk to to figure out what I was supposed to do with what had been revealing itself to me. Trying to get his attention as respectfully as I could, he eventually sat me down across from him and suddenly asked me, “are you willing to die for this?”. I turned my gaze to the right and towards the floor as I weighed the question. Contemplating my desire for greater prosperity and the efforts I had given, it became easy to provide my answer, even if it were at the expense of myself. I let out an emphatic and sudden “yes!”, and then he asked me why, to which I responded “because I know”. He then asked, “what do you know?”. I looked down at the floor being slowly overcome with a somber and mourning reflection of all that had befallen the world and what I felt was to come and said, “that this is heaven…or at least…it was meant to be”, as my voice choked and waned. My left cheek started to raise up as I tried to hold back tears, and I saw him drop his head and nod in agreement with his elbows on his knees and fingers interlocked in front of him. He then looked up to his right at someone and softly nodded at them, dropping his head as he did before I woke up. Upon telling my Lakota mentor about the dream, he says “you know there’s people that can do that, right? Go into dreams?”.
Spending a decent amount of time doing research, I kept getting called back to the thought that experiences of this nature were a calling of sorts to become a medicine man or healer. Messianic notions aside, if the outreach of these forces was a calling towards service from a source as high as what made potentially everything, then it wasn’t really a request I felt I could deny.
Keeping contact with an elder mentor in South Dakota, I had semi-frequent calls seeking guidance and just to catch up. There’s times when intuitive people have spoken to the spirit directly beyond me that seems to be at the seat of this. For example, there was a time I was told, “You might want to write something down…remind yourself who you are”. Imagine that this is a deeper reference to me discovering that literally everything is “It”, and we are all avatars of God’s imagination.
He had told me about many things that seemed to answer a lot of things that I struggled with in a simple way. He started making references to me going to a Sundance, but warned me that a high number of hosts employ ritual that had far deviated from original practices. In the time I spent contemplating, he said something strange in one of our conversations.
I’ve forgotten the exact conversation or how we arrived on the topic, but I think we were talking about spiritual influences at one point during a call. He began giggling to himself and drew some curiosity from me. He said in a playful way with a tapering tone at the end, almost as if there was a finger wagging with it, “there really is a devil”. A bit shuddered, I went “oh yeah?”. He quickly responded with a lot of emphasis on the P, “When the devil comes for ya in the woods, it’ll scare the Piss outta ya”. I meditated and reflected after each interaction but felt like something might be on the horizon for me with his prior intuitive accuracy.
After maintaining contact with the woman that hosted me in South Dakota and her conferring with another family member to kind of be my chaperone and contact, I began to make plans to attend a Sundance over the 4th of July weekend in 2019 to follow up on the implications expressed. Around this same time, a manager of the storage unit facility where my belongings were held told me that we couldn’t keep going in circles with me making payments while my father dodged submitting substitute paperwork allowing me access, and instructed me to just come get my things. I began saving what money I could to rent a sufficient vehicle to get to South Dakota for the Sundance and then to Lubbock, TX to rescue my stuff and make it back to Alabama.
Ever since starting work at Mellow Mushroom, I had been extending invitations to folks openly to go stargazing with me and see something for themselves. There was one guy named Gaven that chose to come along one night in early June of 2019. With so much light pollution in and around Tuscaloosa, we decided to drive down Highway 69 South past Moundville and towards Greensboro, AL. There weren’t many ideal places where we wouldn’t be seen, so we slowly drove around while discussing the potentials surrounding my experiences. We pulled off in a decently inconspicuous place at the entrance to a long dirt driveway and set up a couple of chairs, and it wasn’t long before activity began.
Under the largest patch of open sky we could find, Gaven sat in a camping chair while there was a slow and gradual increase of lights in the sky that began to appear as if the stars were doubling and appearing in splotches. It was a like a hazy bleeding-in of closer out-of-focus and fuzzy lights that were strewn across the whole open patch of sky we were under, slowly drifting around where they appeared. The look of bewildered wonder that came across Gaven’s face as he swiveled his head around with bright eyes, taking it all in, is something I hope to never forget. He let out a soft exasperated breath and we discussed, to the extent he was capable, what the greater implications could be. After a few minutes, the blanket of lights above us began to dissipate, and I started looking around for more activity.
His car was parked facing us on the same side of the road about 15 feet away, and when I looked over on the other side of it, there was a patch or cloud of what looked to be blinking lights in a cluster behind his car a little bit bigger than the size of a beach ball. Their appearance was a hazy orangish-yellow, looking almost as if there was a refractory or holographic nature to them. I called his name without taking my eyes off the cluster and requested that he stand up and look at it himself. I had never experienced anything like this and began to feel a little uneasy but knew deep down that there was nothing to fear. One of the lights separated from the cluster and started drifting to the right on the other side of the road in front of a row of mailboxes, a little bit above waist height and blinking in an organized pattern. It was like a small beacon light attached to someone’s hip that was walking that we couldn’t see, and the flicker it gave would dissipate as if it was reacting to the impact of someone taking a step.
I felt compelled to try and help reassure Gaven as he sat back down in his chair as similar lights began to float up in different directions and around us. Then, as if there was someone that had a glowing glove that could light up, a streak appeared just above the right side of his head that lit up and slightly waved from in front to behind him before disappearing, which greatly startled him. The notions that I had gotten implied that spirits and beings of greater consciousness all work in unison and find joy in recognition that they’re all part of the same whole. With this in mind, I began telling Gaven to try and calm him down that “everything is family”, to which I could tell he had trouble comprehending. After this happened, everything went kind of still and there appeared a craft over the far end of the pasture beside us that was flying diagonally from left to right, slightly in our direction. It resembled crafts that I had seen in the past, having a slowly flashing red and white light with an observable contrail behind it. It moved slow and peculiar, slightly ominously, and nature around us had fallen silent enough for us to hear the low hum of an engine that didn’t sound like it was combustion-driven, unsettling Gaven to the point where he had felt like he had seen enough and we began heading back.
Feeling invigorated by the experience and knowing the undertones of love, empathy, and compassion that my experiences had instilled in me, I began detailing the ways that society needed help and did my best to encourage him to not suppress or turn away from the suffering being emphasized or his experience. Mentioning how we had all the resources to make things better but withhold them from each other helped him realize, if even for a few minutes, that better ways were achievable through unity as he became emotional. There came a point where he tightly gripped the steering wheel, started taking heavy exasperated breaths, and bit his lip while tears welled up in his eyes. I had heavy hopes that he would be able to articulate what happened and be willing to stand as a witness, if not join in efforts.
When he dropped me off, he had a distant and puzzled look that indicated the internal troubles he was having. I tried to express love towards him and validate him in saying that there’s no easy way to find out about the things he experienced, but I was greatly appreciative he was earnestly willing to look. He sat in the car for a couple of minutes after I got out and eventually drove away. Watching him describe his experience to others at work with an evident concern of how he was being perceived, and the thousand yard stare that he had as he described it, made it evident that he was having trouble coming to terms with what he had seen. He still won’t speak to me after repeated attempts, which goes for multiple witnesses.
I managed to save up enough waiting tables to rent a Ford F-250 from Enterprise and a hitch so that I could tow a cargo trailer from Lubbock back to Alabama. I arrived in South Dakota on June 28th and was more than underprepared to go to the Sundance grounds, sleeping inside the cabin of the truck as best I could. The Sundance grounds were on a flat plateau in the middle of the Black Hills up a decent ways off-road, and there were decently tall hills that encircled the grounds. On my way up, I got the F-250 stuck in some deeper mud and didn’t know how to activate the 4-wheel drive. Another white guy, blonde and having a lot of tattoos, came up behind me on the tracks to see if I needed help and showed me on the truck how to turn it on during his way to the grounds. After making it to where the ceremony was held, I met my contact/chaperone and began offering myself to help out in ways that I could, which over the time I was there included giving people rides and using the larger truck I had to pull people out that had gotten stuck. It had been raining prior and during, so there were muddy spots that rutted to entrench people’s older vehicles that had less tread and power.
I helped set up a couple of teepees for the dancers and the person that was leading the Sundance, and also helped secure the Sundance tree at the center of the ceremonial ring due to high winds. I did my best to go along with what it seemed like I was supposed to be doing but have no doubt that I somewhat made a fool of myself. I originally thought that I may be able to participate but quickly learned that preparation and invitation are big parts of the ceremony. I had parked the truck, which was also where I slept, in the far right corner of the Sundance grounds near where my chaperone and his family had set up camp, and I began spending time and talking with them. It’s difficult to explain, but the disposition of the people that I had been meeting had an almost disarming effect that put me at ease, and I felt more comfortable than I had in a long time, as if I was around true family.
Sitting in a chair across from a grandmother that seemed to be the matriarch of the group I had been introduced to, we began talking about my background, how I found my way out there, and what I hoped to gain by being there. I had gotten notions that the experiences that I had been having are kept pretty hush by people in these circles that knew the most about the topic, but I was overwhelmed enough to where I couldn’t contain what was weighing on my heart. I shared about the things that I felt were coming and that I felt compelled to just call bullshit on the world for the contrast of what it is versus what it says it wants to be. She asked me, “have you ever been married? Do you have any kids?”, to which I replied that I hadn’t been and didn’t feel right bringing any children into where I saw the world heading. In a very comforting and stern voice, she leaned forward in her chair and said assuringly, “I think you’re going to make a great father.” After stating my discomfort with bringing children into a world with escalating suffering, her words kind of froze me with the supposition that she was alluding to what my experience suggested about myself, and was speaking to my perceived situation without directly acknowledging it. Insinuating that my position is actually what’s implied, without ever directly confronting it, would become a recurring theme throughout my story and travels.
My original contact in South Dakota that connected me with my chaperone had been a foster parent for a kid that I connected with, and we hung out with a couple other teenagers and an older guy, wandering the outskirts of the grounds and having discussions. I had been talking a bit about my experience and ideas for positive change, and we started talking about synchronicities. The older guy said he lived a very modest life, surviving off of the fish that was discounted from a grocery store that he walked to each day. He told me about how humanity had flown before, that he had remembered past lives where the ideas came to him for figuring out how to build things that could fly, and then he started speaking in metaphor that wouldn’t hit me until much later. I asked him about his past lives, and he said, “I used to be a tree by a river…I was home to all kinds of creatures that flew, crawled, and ran”. It almost certainly seems that what he was referencing was the Tree of Life that everything stems from, and it appeared that the people at the Sundance maintained a much deeper connection than anyone would really suspect at first glance.
Sweat lodges are an important part of many indigenous cultures, and there was a community sweat that all were invited to after the Sundancers did theirs. Before entering the sweat, I was sat with my shirt off and in basketball shorts with a bunch of others. I overheard two teenagers behind me having a discussion that it seemed like I couldn’t avoid eavesdropping on, because they were speaking clearly and slowly enough as if to make sure I overheard. The main excerpt I’ve retained from that conversation is below, but imagine it all being said with overly dramatic, and maybe satirical emphasis:
“Yeah man, my grandfather’s a medicine man. He’s cured cancer FOUR TIMES, but after each time he does, he gets reaaaallly sick for a few days.”
Things began circling in my head. I had done research that suggested that Heyoka being healers, in part, means that they take on other people’s imbalances and the ways they manifest. The dream that I had inside my grandmother’s house where I was asked if I was willing to die for this began resounding for me mentally, and I began to wonder at greater depth if my incarnation was to help chew up everything that’s trying to twist people and circumstances. The physical manifestations of imbalance that I would later develop imply that I may be of this particular persuasion, without it ever having been up to me.
My chaperone had recommended that I pay attention to the different components of the Sundance, and that each piece had intention and significance. My ability to focus wasn’t very strong, and I was distracted by the compulsion to share what had been going on with me. There was a time one day where I had been discussing my experiences with one of the teenagers I had been hanging out with on the tailgate of the truck I had, and I shared with him a printout of a writeup of the experiences I had had up to that point. He told me that the guy that was leading the Sundance said that when he was a kid, he claims he was taken by a group he referred to as the “owl people” who taught him things. I immediately began contemplating that there was subtext to this representation that implied that the group mentioned knew everything since owls are commonly portrayed as having deep knowledge. I then thought back to what I had been experiencing being referred to as “the Gods” by some tribal elders, and what all that could really mean.
As he was reading through the papers that I handed him, his head suddenly shot up and his eyes darted around, as if he was picking up something. He said “we need to go to the circle, we’re gonna miss the medicine man”, and the circle was currently out of our view. We went to the circle that was surrounded by prayer ties to find people, mostly older women that had evident struggles with their health, standing in a circle outside the prayer tie perimeter. There had been an older man that had been dancing in the circle with the man leading the Sundance each day, and he was going around the circle from person to person.
Every person that he came up to during his clockwise rotation had their palms upturned and eyes closed as he felt their palms and put his hand on their foreheads. His reactions were various and were mainly revulsions, coughing, hacking, and spitting in a seeming effort to dispel and banish whatever spirits or energies it seemed had been attaching themselves and ruining the health of the people he was encountering. He made his way around the circle, and when he got to me, I held my palms up and slightly bowed my head with eyes closed, doing my best to be open and transparent with the energy I was putting out. He put his palms on mine, then his hand on my forehead, then put his fingers under my chin, humming with discernment the entire time. With his hand upturned and lifting slightly, he started muttering softly “not bad…not bad”. After he completed going around the circle, I turned to the younger friend that had led me over at the right time so I wouldn’t miss that part, and when I asked what the medicine man’s reaction to me meant, he didn’t answer but had a distant gaze of deliberation, shrugging his shoulders after a few seconds.
That night, I was trying to rest in the truck and laying on my left side in the reclined driver’s seat. Looking out the window at the far right corner of my chaperone’s tent 10 feet out from my door, I saw a light appear a couple of feet off the ground and about 15 feet to the right of their tent corner. Behind this light was the edge of the grounds, and I watched as this small marble-sized ball of light rose from nowhere and danced through the short grass with scattered and sparse knee-high weeds. Zig-zagging and darting around while going right to left, this playful little light seemed to have an essence like someone pulling their hands from their eyes to play peek-a-boo. It was only lit up for maybe two seconds total, and after sharing my experience with someone there the next morning, he told me very nonchalantly, “it was probably just a spirit, bro.”
Rain had fallen strongly prior to everyone arriving on the grounds, as well as once overnight earlier on during my visit. The conditions it created on the trails leading to the grounds and on-site got a lot of people’s vehicles stuck. I was also requested to provide rides to people whose vehicles couldn’t make the sludgy and used up trails leading to the main road. The vehicles of a lot of attendees had bald tires and were older problem-ridden models, so what assistance I brought really did seem to make a difference. Being involved and doing what I could to help was impressed as being important, and it seemed like there was a way to help every time I turned around.
Things started to get a bit overwhelming in regards to how everything had been developing, and I went to go sit at a picnic table at the main kitchen on the corner of the grounds next to us. Just sitting there and contemplating what had been happening, a beautiful woman with long and dark hair came and asked if she could join me. I welcomed her and we exchanged some pleasantries, but the conversation began to shift. Sat opposite me with nobody around us, this woman who spoke with a certain comfort and grace began discussing fasting with me. I had known that fasting is a critical part of a lot of different spiritual practices, but had only minimally and intermittently fasted at this point, mostly unintentionally. She went on to tell me that she had fasted once for seven days. When I asked her how she felt towards the end of it, she said it was the best she had ever felt but had to begin eating again to preserve her health.
I decided to spend a night away from the grounds after driving some elders to a hotel nearby where they were staying. The woman I first stayed with in South Dakota had moved from the reservation to Rapid City, and I slept on her couch after a few nights in the uncomfortable truck. The next day, I was so overwhelmed with everything that I spent hours in the rental truck watching movies I had saved to my phone in the Walmart parking lot, trying to cope. I had saved a George Harrison documentary and felt a lot of comfort in what it felt like I was facing, just from observing his approach to life and philosophy. Once my emotions were finally able to settle, I went back to the Sundance with some replenished supplies and was able to arrive just prior to the Kettle Dance. For those that don’t know what that is, I’ll only say that it has to do with Heyoka, which were mentioned before.
I went back and forth to the truck afterwards and back to the dancers intermittently. I’m certain that I wore my discomfort for all to see, but every step I took with the full picture brewing in my head was like being pummeled by a waterfall. I sat with my chaperone by a fire near their camp after sunset, and he thanked me for my help and for playing with the kids, who enlisted me to play tag, and act as a sentinel carrying one to go tag others. He then got a bit more serious and told me that Lakota people have known that we are not alone for a long, long time, and to keep it to myself. As difficult as it has been to interpret what has been happening with me, I can’t subdue this compulsion to want to share the sheer brilliance of how expertly this has all been expressed to me. My inability to keep from professing is borderline worship, in my eyes. I told him it felt like I would die if I didn’t serve as these natural forces compelled me, to which he responded that it’s good that I “know” that.
It seemed like he felt my heart in that conversation, and he then gave me a gift. An elder that I’m close with had instructed me to craft a medicine pouch, and I had let everything get in the way of me doing that. I was gifted a beautiful medicine pouch from him and felt overwhelmed with gratitude. Others had instructed me to meet with the Sundance leader the morning after everything concluded, and the next morning would be my chance. I was nervous and felt like my time there hadn’t amounted to much in regards to figuring out what I was supposed to be doing with all that was swirling in my head. He told me that I should seek out a peyote or ayahuasca ceremony, because there’s power in those medicines. The weight of what had been getting impressed had compelled me to travel that far, and even though gratitude for having helped others and the experience made the leap of faith worth it, something felt undone. It felt like there was a particular thing I came to do, but couldn’t figure out what and felt like I had nearly run out of time.
Many had left by sunrise the next morning, and I sat in a chair towards the sunrise overlooking the grounds from the far corner where we were located. I waited until the Sundance leader was finished and had a few minutes, and we sat down. So much was on me that I had a lot of trouble getting my words out, but he slowed me down and I gave some background about me and what led me there. I told him that I had been seeing what I had previously thought were UFOs for about 10 years, and then couldn’t help but say that it felt like they wanted me to be second coming for the world, but to bring truth. He rocked back in his seat a little bit as his brow furrowed and eyes stiffened at mine, probably at my insensitivity but I felt a detectable glimmer of contemplation on his part. Before I could expound on how that was a non-denominational statement, we were interrupted by a woman whose entrance made me feel like I was disrupted without coincidence.
After they had finished their exchange, we continued as he remarked on how heavy it seemed like this had been wearing on me. I was told that there were ceremonies he could do, but the descriptions and purposes of the ceremonies he mentioned weren’t the same as what research had told me. I was too nervous and overwhelmed to request his help in those ways at that moment, so he said it was alright and to keep in touch, and I thanked him for his time before parting from the conversation to let him and his family finish packing. I walked back to where the rental truck was parked not knowing if I had done enough or if there were things left undone that I had missed.
One of the moms within the group I was with had a pull-behind cargo trailer that was a cluttered living space with loose stuff hanging around and on hooks on the walls for storage. She cheerily asked me if I’d help pull the trailer through the rutted field paths back to the main house by the highway, and for whatever reason, I started to feel like I was either getting tested or used and felt a little ruffled inside at not being able to tell. I felt confused as to a lot of what was going on around me, and something rose up in my chest that just flared up that it seemed like she immediately felt.
With an investigative eye pointed her way, I said I was willing but was worried about any of the loose stuff in the trailer breaking. She was kind of taken aback where she stood looking concernedly my direction out the side of her eye as she said, “no…it’s okay”. I asked if she was sure, and once she confirmed, I offered to try again if she changed her mind or couldn’t find anyone, but she seemed unsettled by what she felt, and I was a bit surprised but unhappy at what arose in me. I went back to the campsite where folks were breaking down and packing up, and one of the main grandmothers in that circle asked if I could give her and a couple others a ride to the house, which I happily said yes.
Sitting in my camping chair across from the grandmother that had told me she thought I’d make a great father, she leaned over in her seat to her left towards one of the girls that played tag with us. The grandmother put her palms on the ends of her armrests and leaned forward until her hips were square with them, lowering her brow tightly and pursing her lower lip up, like she was concentrating or trying to mentally send something. The little girl, probably about seven or eight, lets out a loud and emphatic “No!!” that tapered off with a choke. She sprung out of where she was sitting and ran leaping into her grandmother’s arms.
I stood there a little confused as the grandmother clutched and rocked her grandkid in her arms, fully carrying her as they both wept. I asked if everything was okay as my eyes couldn’t help but reflect some shock at how suddenly that happened and what seemed to provoke it. The grandmother chokes out, “she thought we were going somewhere else”, keeping a steady pace rocking and crying. It didn’t feel like it was as simple as just going to different destinations leaving the Sundance, but it amplified all concerns within me.
After a few minutes, three grandmothers that were part of the corner group I was with were ready for their ride to the main house. They tossed their bags in the flatbed and we started on the more than five-minute trip back. I couldn’t hide how I wore my feelings, and the weight of what it had been expressed I was being implored to become in the face of uncertain and undefined expectations made me feel emotionally wrecked enough to feel physically weak. Feeling deflated and overwhelmed, I drove in a somber silence as I started to feel like there was something else going on during the drive.
The three grandmothers in the truck were silent the entire ride, but I began detecting this energy, like a conferring was happening amongst them. I didn’t know what to make of it and had a tempering internal appeal bubbling up that was involuntary. I felt all of the perceived suffering that drove me to the lengths I had already gone to, and the uncertainty of whether my efforts were futile or if I was doing the right thing. Was I a fool for throwing myself at this? What is the dark thing on the horizon that I felt I was racing against? What can I make of what I’ve gathered so far and will it end up meaning anything for anyone else? It all bore down on me as I wasn’t far from tears, navigating the ruts in the fields.
We got back to where their cars were parked by the main house, and the moment the truck stopped in the tracks, all three of them loudly burst into tears in unison. They bawled as they opened their doors and exited, convening on the passenger side. They were crying so heavily that my confused attempt to offer service went unacknowledged as the grandmother that was in the passenger seat handed me a red pouch of coffee as a thank you before closing the door. The cries continued as I drove away back to the site, seeing in the mirror that they were all still a bit hunched and circled behind me. I went back to the grounds and picked up the foster kid of the woman I first stayed with to drop him in Rapid City before departing for Lubbock to go rescue my belongings.
Arriving on July 9th, nobody was available to help me load my stuff into the cargo trailer. The scorching Texas summer heat made it twice as hard, but I got everything loaded and started heading back east immediately after.
It was a very difficult drive. I was thrilled about not losing my stuff but mentally preoccupied about what I had just gone and done. The behaviors of a lot of people I was around were strange, and I had received some convincing affirmations that what I had gotten drawn into was by design, and the words of people just happen to catch me in the right ways to disarm me enough to reflect. Everyone that was at the Sundance acted as if they knew right where I was and what I was struggling with, and were warm in kind. There were times during the drive where I couldn’t stop crying over how profound it all felt, like I had been getting paraded like an existential rag doll to interject against this circling of the drain I knew we would all feel once events unfolded. It feels important to state that regardless of the difficulty of any of these happenings, the distress never diminished my gratitude for being enthralled within it and having even the opportunity to serve.
The truck and trailer had only been reserved until the 10th, so it was a dead sprint getting back and unloaded. I barely had enough to afford gas on the way back and slept in the cab of the truck for a couple hours before returning mid-morning to Alabama. I spent the next couple of weeks recovering from the stress and trying to process what all happened, and the days where I wasn’t waiting tables at lunch got a little bit stir-crazy.
There was one day in mid-July 2019 where I was overcome by this intense feeling that uncomfortably compelled me to start reaching out to someone on Reddit. This feeling drove me to explore like terms to what I had been experiencing to find authors of posts that may be able to comprehend and discuss what had been going on with me. I found one person that made a post in a spiritual subreddit that was speculating as to what it might look like if Jesus or a Jesus figure came to the world today, how it would be perceived, and if people would even be receptive. Sending a message and what writings I had gotten down of my experiences to that point, I was responded to with intrigue and told some affirming things.
The opportunity to attend an ayahuasca ceremony being only a couple weeks out, less than a couple weeks after my chaperone at the Sundance encouraged me to seek one out, seemed like the stars were aligning. Choosing to do some research on Missouri in a spiritual sense turned up some intense and intriguing results, a lot of which pointed towards the Mormon/LDS church.
The Mormon faith says that Missouri is where the true Garden of Eden was (or maybe will be?), that church headquarters have to be relocated to Independence, MO prior to the “end times”, and that American Indians had their skin turned red for disobeying God. I began thinking of explanations for how some of these things may play out in a practical sense, like rivers drying up across the continent and the abundance of natural springs in the Ozarks being a reliable water source. The LDS church is also the second largest land-owner behind the U.S. government, indicating that partnership with the church may open up the ability to broadly cultivate and provide food and shelter. Contemplating on some of the abilities/gifts I’ve witnessed of people within tribes that have to do with spiritual influence, people from previous times like Joseph Smith’s would have likely attributed happenings like some of mine towards black magic or devilry, when in actuality, people in tribes appear to be more evolved and spiritually able as a result of having been congruent with creation for a long time.
After laying out some plans to take off work and reserve another rental vehicle with what little I had, I picked up the car on my 31st birthday at the beginning of August before embarking to Missouri for the first time. There was a contact of the person I first connected with that led ayahuasca ceremonies under the permission of the Native American Church, and I began preparing my body by fasting at the end of the day once I arrived at my contact’s house in Mansfield, MO. Turns out his house was one of the first in town and was built by the man that brought industry there, and also had occult ties. A judge used to live there, and famous figures used to attend “tea parties”, which I’ve come to learn could be slang for occult gatherings in the past. The house was even mentioned in the book, Little House on the Prairie and was a landmark.
The house was a hopeful meeting place for spiritually inclined individuals to come learn and mingle, but the motivations for desiring to be such a host seemed financial. The person that owned the house, let’s just call him P, was younger former military and had worked with NATO operations, was autistic, and an avid aspiring student of the occult. He read about Aleister Crowley, Edgar Cayce and whatever else it seemed like he felt would help him develop. Before evening started to set in on my birthday, he informed me that there was this weird plaque on a gazebo in the center of town that had some secret society symbols on it. With the gazebo being about 75 yards from his front door, we walked over to check it out.
For such a quiet and slow little nowhere town in Missouri, having a handful of occult groups convene on a spot to erect a gazebo did a lot more for me than just raise an eyebrow, especially considering the practices of the folks that founded the town. Having a lot of intuitive suspicion that almost all occult groups trace back to Egyptian mysticism, the whole Horus thing and Mormon prophecy relating to Missouri were ringing in my head as it seemed like this town may have been a chosen place to concentrate effort. Not only that, but this creeping feeling with notions of potentially being the Master Mason began, complete with what felt like glimpses forward to an efficient societal rebuild and transition into a new age.
The next day just before 7 P.M., I got dropped off by P at the small homestead of the “shaman” leading the ayahuasca ceremony. To hide his identity, I’m going to call him Starsun. He was a tall and flexible blonde guy with an ego that was just smothering, and had built himself a small earthbag home (long straight sandbags encased in plaster/concrete) with a small upstairs hangout and a small building that could have been a yoga room about 30 yards to the right of the house. All of this was on a little brushy and overgrown plot that went up a hill, but I don’t know if it was his land. There was a recommended donation, as ceremonies are never supposed to cost anything, and a few others and I signed releases while being given the low-down about how things would go.
The ceremony was supposed to be three rounds of drinking about 4 oz of medicine with prayers and blessings before, but our practitioner was a bit disorganized. It took about an hour after the first session to feel anything, and about 15 minutes later, we took our second. To those that haven’t experienced it, most people report ayahuasca as feeling like a warm embrace, and it was as if I was being held by my mother when I was almost too small to stand. The comfort and knowing that came with that medicine was like mother nature guiding me to her to come and feel her swaddling. With as much as I had been struggling with about the scale of what was being expressed, I was absolved of it all in instant and continuous understanding and acknowledgement while in that moment.
A few attendees and I were outside talking, and I felt like a fountain talking about the things that I wanted to do that had been coming to me. One of the attendees was an intuitive and ambitious motivational speaker in his 20s that was very much tuned into what I was saying, and he got that distant look with his brow down like he was struck with a thought. He raises his right hand with index finger pointed, starts wagging it with his gaze fixed to the side and says, “you will be..…in…abundance”, before snapping out of it. I was also very glad that I fasted because it was at about this time that folks began to purge, which is almost guaranteed with ayahuasca, and a couple even messed their pants.
About an hour after that, Starsun had disappeared along with a few attendees, and I decided to go exploring. I heard music and saw lights coming from the upstairs of his earthbag home. Wandering over to see what the group was doing in the upstairs entrance up a grassy path, I peered through the open door and saw four or five attendees on their backs on the floor with plastered grins as Starsun whipped himself around doing aerial yoga directly above them.
Standing in amazement of what this was supposed to be and how it turned out, my mind drifted towards concern about how unsuspecting attendees could have been given permanent misunderstandings about what benefits medicines like that could have. Some of the attendees had left, but Starsun led us up the hill on this property at about 1 A.M. to a brush pile he had collected that stood between 8–10 feet tall and was probably 30 feet long. The heat was so intense that I couldn’t get within a few feet of it, and I went to go lay down after that died down.
Starsun didn’t do the third round until later in the early morning hours, which I missed, and I awoke the next morning in a haze while a few folks had been up all night. The group reconvened and we discussed our experiences, and it just felt like I had witnessed something that was wrong. I wouldn’t share my feelings on the situation to who introduced me, who later claimed one of his friends was an intended victim of a financial deal Starsun got caught orchestrating. A few months later, some facebook posts started showing up of his body covered in pretty severe burns on his profile. The posts, which were later deleted, said that he fell into a fire after passing out doing yoga. I’m still a bit shaken by what may be a gift in the form of observing what can happen when these medicines are misappropriated, abused, or in the hands of the wrong people.
P picked me up that morning and introduced me to a buddy of his named Ryan that had already established himself in the green scene in the area. He had relationships with people at a place called Baker Creek, which was described to me as a small outdoor mall with a German/Amish touch that included a massive seed bank and produce farm. Since it was always heavily attended on the weekends, I went with Ryan and got a tour and saw the grounds.
He even took me behind the scenes to see the massive seed storage and sorting racks and technology. Being left almost speechless at the efficiency of the system they were using and the abundance of seeds and different things they grew, I was overtaken by a sense of wonder about the places I was being guided and how they may come into play with what I had been hoping to develop.
Making it as easy as plugging in amounts of numerically coded seed bags, robots sling up and down the shelf rails and automatically gather orders in these buckets. Being left almost speechless at the efficiency of the system they were using and the abundance of seeds there, I was overtaken by a sense of wonder as to where all what had been whispering to me could go.
My mind started turning about ways that crypto distribution, via what’s called smart contracts, could be used as an incentive for fledgling eco-villages or intentional communities to cultivate and submit proof of progress via video to receive continuous disbursements of seeds or aid. Late summer of 2019 was when I started looking at crypto a little bit harder, and smart contracts, Layer 2 on the Ethereum blockchain, and decentralized finance seemed like the only way society could free itself from systemic abuse and its immunity to public recourse. A blockchain ledger that showed what donations were coming in and going out, as well as documenting how the outward donations are applied via YouTube, could guarantee proper allocation of funds towards efforts transparently because the whole process would be observable.
With the COHAB ideas that came to me, the research that I had been provoked to do that connected with my experiences, and the ways that I had heard reverberations of the same spirit echo through the people I had been meeting in my travels, I began to get really contemplative. It’s difficult to explore these things in my head, much less in ways that sound sane and comprehendible to others, but I began to perceive an element of intentionality throughout my life that started to make me feel that whatever these higher forms of nature were, they had seemingly been making appearances and helping guide and influence me to becoming qualified to help at a large scale, and potentially be the one that opens everyone’s eyes to the deeper threads that intertwine our common reality and story, which I’ve observed has been told through everyone often without their knowing.
Perceiving the weight of the potential story being told that I may have been spat out by nature to help tie up the loose ends of, and with the potential that I wrote all of this for myself to come and live out, my whole life upon retrospect carries what seems to be little Easter eggs that promote the idea that there have been supporting interpretive instances throughout my upbringing that resonate with the theme, justifying a review with a new lens on my part. I agree that to Western culture, having a view such as the Infinite acting itself out through all of us to extravagantly prove itself can sound daunting or scary, but the One-ness that I’ve discovered in many spiritual persuasions and beliefs indicates that the people that I had gone to meet in my path that helped spur me along were reached and guided by the All in similar ways.
It was around this time that a bunch of songs started finding me that had lyrics that felt a bit TOO direct to what all had been getting expressed and what I had been compelled to pursue, with signs of affirmation along the way. I browsed Spotify for radio stations of songs that had spoken to me and was introduced to artistic masterpieces that resonated mightily of the same heart that had driven me to do what I had, like the whole universe was looking back and had laid these exemplifications of spirit before me to help withstand what I had and would endure coming to know what I have along the path, which has had a cost. Some of the songs were so powerful that they induced tears on the first few listens, while I re-listened to other older songs with a new perspective which spoke in new and affirming ways.
All of the music that I was fortunate enough to rehear took on new forms and perspectives, as if we all came here to do what we do and create, experience, listen, and love. Being able to feel and hold that singular feeling of collective belonging and wonder that we all have that, upon greater inspection, us appearing to have written this for ourselves to come live out is something I can sit back and reflect in awe about endlessly. This massively propelling and invigorating wind came from hearing what sounded like different iterations of God’s creativity, manifested through each voice to call out and sing to ourselves, unbeknownst of what we are or what reality is. The overwhelming love of seeing how this creative intelligence that comprises all things could express itself gave me the warmest, most satisfying, and faith-giving affirmation in my time of need.
Suddenly, I was swayed by an intriguing thought. There was a legend of a group called the Annunaki that basically said that they created man to harvest gold for them in pre-Mesopetamia/ancient Sumeria. Looking at it an alternate way, could it be that if everyone and everything is just God cosplaying as themselves, then would all of the music and art that we create while being unknowing cause us to produce the purest essence of that source intelligence? Even bigger than that, if I really am who all of this has impressed upon me I am, then the songs that drove me to go and network to create a solid foundation were vocalizations/gifts from God via the artists, and part of that same source that was there to propel me at the right time when it all converged for me. I frequently still sit in awe of the complexity, perfection, and astounding orchestration of how this has all been expressed, sometimes being brought to tears over what beauty and grace I’ve been fortunate enough to witness, and potentially comprehend.
The term Annunaki gets thrown around in fringe and ancient-alien circles, but I learned that in the Hopi language, Annunaki literally translates to “ant people”. The Book of the Hopi says pretty directly that this isn’t the first or last planet humans will inhabit, and that they have taken people underground at the end of previous worlds. For the reader struggling to piece it together, Annunaki meaning “ant people” in Hopi seems to coincide with their history of building underground and potentially colonizing planets, if the tech that they described having before the Great Flood actually goes back much, much farther.
Pondering on what is knowable of history, coupled with pieces of what I’ve experienced, I began pondering on what the Owl People that were referred to at the Sundance could mean. My mind wanders towards speculations that there are many planets like earth, acting as incubators and schools for emerging consciousness. If the Owl People know everything, could it be possible that everything that any of these cultures that they seem to seed (like a petri dish) comes up with, whether it be art, music, architecture, philosophy, and more get integrated into their greater sum of knowledge? Could reveals of such magnitude be made to observed societies once infighting ceases and mass comprehension can withstand the notion? However compelling these things are to consider, they are, for the moment at least, imponderables.
I’m not going to lie, I freaked out a bit. I make no claims that the above references make a complete picture together, but it certainly seems like there’s something to it. The list of songs that spoke to me on another level has grown immensely, and anyone that is interested in hearing for themselves can check the link below:
Being in the throes of an existential rollercoaster that had no brakes, many of the songs in this playlist nurtured me into surrender and service through what would have otherwise crushed me.
After heading back to Alabama and resuming work as a server, I got let go from the restaurant where I had been working for writing an anonymous letter on behalf of the front of house staff that another server shared and named me. Working conditions had become tense and threatening, and multiple female servers had ended up in tears after suffering the hostility of the proprietor. A manager that recognized my efforts gave me a recommendation to a higher end restaurant in town where I ended up making more.
It gave me more peace of mind to settle and listen/observe how things were starting to unfold with what had been getting expressed. My experiences with media started to increase in coincidence to where synchronicity became the more plausible idea. New and old works began finding me that rang with the themes that I had been facing, and there they were smack in my face to resoundingly resonate that I was being shown things.
A new episode of South Park in October produced this image, as I was wrestling with the Hopi and Egyptian connection, as well as what I had been getting told I was:
Depicting Ra, the Sun God, I was a bit blown away to see this content in correlation, which is a bit unlike their previous work.
As more songs collected in the Star Songs playlist, another impactful reference showed up in mid-November. This all weighed on me incredibly as the world watched Uyghurs rounded up in camps while the entertainment world bent the knee to China. The message I had been struggling to find the words to bring nearly choked my throat as I became spun about how to best go about my efforts, and what may come my way.
I felt oddly drawn to a movie that was streaming one night called “Explorers” (1985), which is about a kid that has a recurring dream about instructions to build a spaceship, which he successfully does with the help of a couple friends. There were scenes that reflected the intuitive resonance of similar things I had experienced, and I began to feel heavily the ideas that had been getting impressed.
The gang of friends makes their way to space and encounter some beings that claim responsibility for them having made it there, and some other things. Here are two wild clips from a movie from 1985:
The compounding expressions that had begun to get expressed at relevant times had become convincingly guided, and the themes of these works had profound resonance with feelings I had long had while these works were under my nose the whole time.
In early November of 2019, news started coming out about detention camps in China where Uyghur people were being rounded up. Videos surfaced of crowds of people sat and cuffed with bags over their heads at what China referred to as “re-education camps”. The people of Hong Kong were concurrently protesting for their freedom with vicious and brutal retaliation from government forces.
As it looked like the world was beginning to spiritually support the people of Hong Kong, the crackdown in response would have had to be severe to quell freedom efforts. Having anticipated since my awakening that something was on the horizon that would try and commandeer things, I began reaching out to people I knew to try and discuss the eco-village ideas that had been coming to me to drum up a way forward.
Mainly bending the ear of coworkers and the odd person on Reddit who posted relevant content, I tried to connect with people and learn what they wanted out of life while trying to share. From sampling a broad spectrum, people seem to mainly want to travel, experience, eat good food, explore, and connect. What I had felt was coming was going to be an affront on all of those things, which spurred me into being more socially adventurous to try and network.
The upscale restaurant where I was serving was a favorite of University of Alabama faculty and sports teams to wine and dine on the school’s dime. Also being down the road from a Mercedez-Benz plant, a lot of international patrons passed through the restaurant. I think it was December of ’19, but there was one day where one of our coworkers got really sick to a concerning point, and then a bunch of front and back of house employees fell ill.
For those that haven’t worked in a restaurant, the shifting environment of the air-conditioned front-of-house and heat of the kitchen causes respiratory issues for some people. The severity of sudden sickness most of us came down with made us all stop in our tracks a little. News started to slowly come out saying there was something spreading that had serious repercussions.
As months continued, a grim outlook started to appear. I perceived that one of the main tools at the employ of bad actors was going to be disinformation, and I didn’t underestimate the limits to which suffering, division, and confusion could be weaponized to prolong events. It wasn’t long before federal agents were seizing N95 masks and other protective equipment from hospitals to be auctioned off, state borders were seemingly kept open so the virus could spread, and anti-mask rhetoric became sensationalized with a lot of influence from somewhere.
As things deteriorated while the scale of what we were all facing was assessed, the stress in feeling like perhaps I was too late with what had been put in front of me was crushing. My body began to respond in ways commensurate to the suffering I felt and observed, and my wisdom teeth began giving me a lot of grief. I didn’t have insurance, but I was gratefully able to get my issues confronted with my father’s assistance, even though he and the rest of the family besides my mother and grandmother abandoned me because what I was experiencing wasn’t discussable.
The wisdom tooth on my lower right side was sideways and underneath the last molar, so it made the extraction difficult. I must have been under-sedated as I felt nothing but remember how violent the jerking was as the oral surgeon yanked. My teeth didn’t on the bottom right didn’t sit quite right after, and physically I felt like something was wrong. A few days after the second surgery, I was driving my mother’s car and had a near-fainting spell where my body went thrush and my heart slowed. I was able to pull off but demanded my mom take me to the ER upon returning from being out.
The drainage, pain, and lack of improvement were so severe that I saw the oral surgeon three more times, plus a couple of ER visits, saying something was wrong. My body began to feel like it was starting to come apart a little bit, and my grandmother even paid $500 out of pocket for a TMJ specialist in Birmingham to take a look, and they said nothing was wrong.
Lucking out with being able to receive unemployment through my job during the pandemic, I was in a rental car and going back to visit Missouri to try and continue efforts by early May. P and his girlfriend were hosting people on May 9th of ’20 where dinner, a drum circle, and a bonfire were held. There were a few people there that were interested in collaborating, but P had begun asking for donations above a minimum amount to stay in a room in the house per night, and my spidey-senses detected more of a profit element than a service one with this collaborator.
We had been around the bonfire drumming for an hour or so after dark before some things began showing up in the sky. A solid lit light began making circles around us nearly directly above, but skirting the crowns of the taller trees on the edge of the larger backyard. It was an orb that was drifting like a satellite, except close, changed its path, and appeared circular from underneath with a hazy white light that wasn’t overly bright. I called the attention of P and others to it, and P acknowledged that it was definitely strange. We either got repeat flybys by that same one or there were a few others that swung by like boomerangs in a similar path.
In the following days, P had introduced me to a woman named Allison and a man named D.C. She had a storied career in advertising and was doing projects involving drone footage. She did what she thought was a humble-brag about how much people would voluntarily send her just as a retainer, but it wasn’t observable how that flow was being directed to help the people in ways she vocalized she had wanted. D.C. was a Haitian immigrant that saw a difficult and dangerous upbringing before making it to the states. He had also attended Full Sail University, which is a leading digital media college I at one point considered attending, and we created an instant bond.
On May 13th, we had decided to go partake in a mushroom ceremony in the woods at a beautiful spot nearby in Missouri. It was deep in a valley in the woods with a natural spring nearby diverted into a creek that swept around traversable rock mounds and trees. Having not had natural medicine of this variety in a while, especially after what had been impressed upon me, I had a severe energy purge. I had appealed to Allison, P, and D.C. about aligning before other interests prevailed and what this was like to carry, and they tried to reassure me they understood as I sat shaking, not having a choice but to let my body release what it was holding onto. I had hoped that a couple of them having witnessed things around me might compel more interest before this happened, and some conversations during our time indicated there may be a subverting nature to how these people were interacting. These relationships were new, and my trust was borderline at best but enough to participate. I was heard out but definitely didn’t feel reassurance.
Upon returning to the house, I went in the backyard to smoke a cigarette. Once I was alone after that experience and unburdened after the purge, reflections started arising about what generational influences may have had a hand in what had been developing. Imagining that the spirit world calls for correction with what suffering we’ve shoveled it’s way, what clarity I had been given brought me to ancestral yearning for better, with undeniable full acknowledgement of what suffering we have inflicted.
Through me came a deep and unstoppable cough that left me in tears before I was able to regain myself, but I knew in the moment I was helping share the collective grief of the past and hope of the future that our predecessors felt and weren’t fortunate enough to have the timing to see. After remembering what I overheard about someone’s medicine-man grandfather at the Sun Dance getting sick after treating someone’s sickness, I began to question and be a bit imperiled by just how much my taking on of things could translate physically for me.
A couple of people recommended I go visit an intentional community/eco-village in northern Tennessee that had been long-standing and grown to a decent size. I made contact with one of the co-founders named Patrick and brought a friend I had made in MO to record an interview and make a video for YouTube. Making this lifestyle attractive and demonstrating its reliability was a main goal, and getting a glimpse into a functioning system that may present an ideal model for replication was an exciting prospect. The video that was made can be found below:
Brainstorming a few days later about how to help cultivate in different ways, an idea came forward about visiting nearby farms to interview and record landowners that were willing to have extra hands cultivate on-site, and potentially open the door for mutual collaboration and temporary housing. There was someone I was introduced to days later that claimed they knew someone that had land ready to develop, which would allow me to bypass the outreach and interview process. His name was Eli, and he was a drunk white hippie with dreads that had an affinity for the more extreme side of Zionism. The person he wanted to introduce me to was the caretaker for some land just outside Fayetteville, AK who he said was ready to get started, and I was ready to start making and documenting efforts.
In the time leading up to the end of the month, I met a few people from and investigated what is referred to as the Rainbow Family of Living Light. It started with draft dodgers, hippies, and wayward kids in the early 1970s cooking for each other and camping and turned into an international congregation of love and acceptance that leaves no trace where they camp. There was an original vision that included a communal site that would produce food for a large number that others that others have tried to emulate. Bonfires, drum circles, free food, and spiritual folks with amazing life experience were what I was told I would find.
It’s a group of people who holds an unconditional positive regard for everyone and everything, and I came to learn that they have a very close relationship with Hopi prophecy regarding expected times and who would rise to face them. Understanding that the main limiting factor preventing most people from staying on site at places and helping is being sustained comfortably, a collective of people with aligned perspectives was put in front of me with limitless opportunities to find volunteers that wanted to help build.
There was a regional gathering happening in Missouri at the beginning of June, and I made plans to attend once I had visited the ready to develop site in Fayetteville. What I was told about the site was that it had flowing water with a creek and was owned by an older woman that had given care-taking permission to a guy named Mitch. Eli coordinated plans with Mitch and arranged for us to go out on June 2nd, 2020.
Not knowing what to expect, I brought my own vehicle just in case any funny business were afoot, and I felt something was a tad off. We embarked in the morning and I followed him, stopping at a gas station he chose. I was going to order food after using the restroom, but he insisted we were on a tight schedule and should hurry. There was a clean cut and bearded Persian or middle-eastern man that walked with Eli to his car as I was told Eli would be giving him a ride and dropping him along the way, but the demeanor of the passenger was serious.
We make it to another gas station where the passenger gets dropped off, and Eli starts acting confused about where we’re going. I confronted him asking what was going on and he got back on track, but my eyebrows were raised. We continued on to a dirt driveway covered by tree canopy that continued straight until an opening with a double-wide trailer on the right and a widened parking area from the entrance. We were quickly greeted by Mitch who stood a tad bit shorter, had a longer and wiry beard and hair with a bald spot, and had a build similar to Paul Simon. I was then introduced to his girlfriend Judy and a friend of his named Nate, who .
A tour showed a dense and tall brush covered patch of land on the other side of a fence from the trailer that was the alleged garden area they were wanting to use, with space housing on the far side. Past that was a tree line with a path from the driveway down a hill, and a flowing creek on the other side of the trees as a water source:
With what appeared to be driven collaborators, space, and required resources nearby, this was an attractive potential place to put some efforts. We spent the afternoon picking up smaller rocks that littered the garden to make walkways around it, and there was a moment when I glanced up and saw Nate giving me a look as he leaned over that felt off. His brow was down and his expression unfriendly, but I did my best to brush it off.
We went in to have dinner a bit before sundown and I expressed what I had put together about my story and aims at that point to an underwhelming reaction. They said they had wanted to dose with some liquid LSD that night, and I was no stranger to psychedelics but had never partaken in liquid. I was also slightly weary about the set and setting I was around, which should have been reason enough to refrain. Hoping to establish some new collaborators and community, I decided to partake with them underneath the tree line after sundown.
As we started to feel the come up, we had music playing through someone’s phone and a bluetooth speaker. It was a really good time for a little bit until something decided to intervene.
The music coming through the speaker had stopped as others around me were still giggling. An odd sounding distant rumble caught my attention, and I asked “do you hear that?”, with my brow down, listening close. Mitch quickly asked what I was on about and I shushed everyone and said to listen.
At first it seemed like a truck or car flooring the gas on a straight away far through the trees. The low bellow began to increase with us sat in our chairs, and without pistons or changing gears, the rumble grew and became intense enough around us that our shaking chests buckled into our knees in our seats to brace it. I hadn’t noticed at the time, but Eli had taken off on foot up towards the parking area once this began.
At its most intense, it sounded almost like a horn, keeping up for about 10 seconds before the urge to stand came. Not having had anything like this happen before, I began contemplating as I rose out of my seat, pacing with the frequency and vibrations beginning to dissipate.
The others sat as I felt something grow in me to where I felt compelled to say “So…I tried to tell y’all what it is I’ve been experiencing. When it shows up, it’s not really something you can argue with”. They stayed seated a little discombobulated from what had happened, and a thought overcame me.
Most people that had shared a profound experience with me were unwilling to talk about them, and these potential collaborators just went through something with me I felt they could stand and discuss in a broader sense.
“Y’all just went through something with me like what we talked about. Are y’all willing to say that this happened?”, to which I got no response. A moment later, Mitch was still sitting and began saying “dude…you’re free…you’re free”. At first it felt like this meant I was going to get solidarity and had found some trustworthy people.
The party restarted and I felt 12 years of existential trauma and abandonment lift off of my shoulders as I suffered to try and understand my experience. I walked to the creek and looked at the moon through the trees that swayed with fast and low clouds behind them and took a deep breath off of a cigarette.
Nate had followed me to the water and stood to my left as I took breaths of relief and said “man, I’m so excited for all the work I’m gonna get to do”, to which he replied in a matter of fact tone, “who said that?”. The tone dropped and it felt like something was up.
I walked back to underneath the canopy where the music never resumed and sat trying to ask what was going on. Mitch and Judy were sat in the dark, and after a moment of silence following my question, Judy began to say in a soft, strange, and attempted reassuring tone, “we love you….we love you”, and I suddenly felt ill and small.
I felt like a trapped kid, too stupid to see what he had gotten himself into, only I didn’t know what that was. There had been a time prior when I was tripping LSD where it was as if my thought process caught a snag that created a loss of awareness state. Imagine that your vision shrinks and swirls as your mind begins to slip and lose where you were or what you were doing.
Feeling cornered and confused, this happened for the second and last time. When I snapped out of it and rose in my seat, Mitch rose with me and let on an exhilarated “Whooooo”. He had been wearing a headlamp with the red light on around his neck, glowing over his bare chest. When I saw him, the headlamp looked like a deep burning coal fire that illuminated his face, and he did not look human.
He was laughing with the others, not looking my way, and his face was impish, sneering, ecstatic, and careless as he cackled with the light dangling and accentuating what I couldn’t disprove I was seeing. I immediately got out of my seat, in my head went “nope”, and began walking back towards the parking area.
As I walked with a healthy pace, behind me began screaming from Mitch loudly going “Noo…..Noooooooo!!!”, at the top of his lungs. The energy that I felt behind me as I went remains one of the most disturbing things I’ve felt. It felt like it was still reaching for me as I made my way up through the tall grasses on both sides of the path. I had to keep telling myself “in light…in light” as I went, and it was like the tall grasses were blooming in the moonlight as I made my way from the trees.
I may have actually been in shock as I arrived back at the parking area, pacing for a minute trying to make sense of what happened. Nate came up the hill not long after with a shovel, requesting that I come back down the hill, and I had my guard up asking him questions, ready for whatever was going to happen.
I asked him if they knew about me prior, like it were a targeted thing that was happening. He said they knew of me, and I asked him who they served. he said “oh nature, rebirth…you know…the cycles”. Then I asked him who decided what was happening there that night.
He said, “You did!”. I had to stand and think for a moment because prior research came flooding back. There was an article I found about some Aztec or other South American story where gods were encircled around an active volcano arguing amongst each other over who had the least ego and hubris to make the best sacrifice to keep the sun going. Horus having much to do with the sun and me wanting to serve in the highest way I could provoked thoughts in me about this potentially being where I had written for myself to contribute, maybe with the best ways not being for me to decide.
What I feel I understand now is that if there were any legitimate shadow force attempting to subvert me into non-being, inhibiting the relief I had been committing myself to try and help bring, making it sound like it were my idea while under the influence could manufacture consent. Eli returned from the road where he had run once the rumble showed up, and he slowly opened the passenger door of his car with his feet out on the grass.
He muttered to himself “yo…Ragnarok, dude…”. When I heard that, a fire rose in me under suspicion of just what it actually was they were trying to do there with me. For those that don’t know, Ragnarok is the Norse legend of the end of all things where Odin, the “All Father” is consumed by a wolf. Legend says that not even the Gods survive the tale as father is pit against son, and brother against brother.
If my experience and what I had been pointed to indicated that what I’m bringing is meant in a larger sense, or that I am Horus, this seemed like a targeted event, even though I still can’t say what exactly it was that had occurred. Mentioning Ragnarok after what had happened was enough for me to confront him and ask what he just said and why, with a fire in my stare. He tried to brush it off and I walked away and paced around in thought.
At just before 1 A.M. a couple of minutes later, I got in my car and decided I wasn’t going to stick around. Nate came to my passenger window cautioning me from leaving, saying I was intoxicated, but I insisted and made my way out. I was able to secure a hotel room ten minutes before the cutoff at the Days Inn in Fayetteville, AR and drove there carefully.
I checked in and took showers and laid down in intervals trying to process what had happened until the sun came up. I had realized that I left my backpack and laptop over there and decided to return at sunrise. Mitch and Eli were outside in the grass driveway by the trailer, Mitch naked underneath an open overcoat, and Eli sitting on a log bench.
It was quiet and the golden hour around 6:15 A.M. when I parked and approached them saying I had forgotten my backpack. My senses were high as I felt out the situation, and they acted as if nothing strange had happened the night before, which only made me more curious. My presence was flared and didn’t feel I was in danger, but I could detect they were nervous to speak anything about the night before.
When Judy opened the door from the trailer, not expecting to see me nor I her, she froze and turned pale as I grounded my stance and alertly stared. Knowing deep down that what had happened was low frequency and dark, whatever it was, I felt compelled to start pacing and contemplating something to say once the energy calmed after a few seconds. What came out was, “You don’t even know it has you”, which infuriated Mitch as he stepped face to face with me, trying to stare me in the eye as hard as he could while I kept my cheek to him. I told him I wanted to go in and get my stuff when he angrily responded “I’ll go get it motherfucker”, before marching inside.
He returned with my backpack and came back into my personal space still angrily calling me names. I kept my glance away and said I was sorry for whatever misunderstandings there may have been. I approached Eli and said I’d like to speak with him, and relayed where my room was after he agreed but said he’d be a while.
I took that time to return to the gas station nearest the hotel to grab a pack of smokes, resting on the curb beside the entrance. I cracked the pack and began processing and contemplating what I was going to say to Eli as it all got felt out. This part of Fayetteville, at least during the time of this event, had some residents that I observed marching themselves in and out of the gas station at the crack of dawn.
Bodies that required labor to keep in motion, folks whose minds had drifted with their habits, some with beer guts and skinny legs from a sedentary lifestyle, and others with older, toothless, and frail frames from malnourishment, cigarettes, and meth, wore their wear in a way that was more evident to me than it ever had been before.
I observed, bathed in the afterglow of the dose the night before, as I saw how beholden these people had become to their vices, and at what cost. Then, for the first time, I saw it. With Rangnarok having been spoken of the night before, the concept of Loki and trickster energy broadened in scope.
Many areas in Arkansas have influence from hate groups, and the addictive practices many engage in create an interesting energetic breeding ground. If there are entities that get their fulfillment from getting us to engage in unhealthy ways of being, then all examples that are against us and each other are detractions from our original divinity, which we can get coerced to voluntarily trade off.
Arriving back at the hotel after the gas station, a heavily tattooed skinhead was on the phone with a cigarette slumped over the rail, and I had to pass behind him once up the stairs to get to my room. I waited for Eli and went down once he arrived in the parking lot. I approached him and asked what happened, and he spilled out into hysterics saying, “Man I didn’t know they were gonna try nothing, man, I didn’t know what that was”, really seeming like he was trying to sell it.
As he was facing me talking, a tweaker woman approached him from behind and stood to his right. She kindly waited to be acknowledged and said, “Have y’all seen a guy named Worm?”. I waited a second and asked for a description. “He’s bald, has a lot of tattoos”, and then she started raising her right hand, continuing “he has a demon tattoo, right here!”.
She raised her right index finger to her left bicep to indicate the location of the tattoo, also pointing at him directly through her arm. When I rose my head and drifted my gaze towards Eli, he immediately broke eye contact and started seeming genuinely upset.
I told the woman I thought I saw someone resembling that description on the second floor near the stairs, and she thanked me and went on. I looked at Eli, who had become visibly uncomfortable, and just calmly said, “You don’t think God’s got it?”. He began to mutter, walking around to the driver side of his car as I attempted to learn what more i could before he drove away.
Later that same morning, another contact in the area with some mutual networkings reached out and said that Nate from the night before had reached out to him. I don’t know if this was an attempt by Nate to create a fake backstory or in reference to something that happened after I left, but Nate wasn’t there in the morning, and Judy was.
I was excited to attend my first Rainbow Gathering, and although I didn’t know what to expect, there were a few people attending and organizing I had gotten to know beforehand. The site had been chosen as Yelton Spring for the Ozark regional gathering, and the site was situated down a hill at the elbow of a dirt road that was lined with cars. There was an additional parking area further into the site with camper vans and dispersed tents throughout the woods.
I hadn’t immersed myself in a lushness like this before and found myself feeling refreshed by the dense greenery around, despite the sweltering humidity and bugs.
The water came from underground and was nearly ice cold. Just getting ankle deep could lower your whole body temperature in the heat. The water is actually far through the other side of that thick brush tracking the same way, the main kitchen and a bulk of the tent camping being past a creek that fed the river.
I had obtained a one-person tent and an air mattress and camped in the far back edge near a meadow. My first night there went fine, but around dawn the day of the second, something woke me. I was in a deep sleep when my tent suddenly vacuumed and collapsed on me. I struggled to move and breathe, but the fabric of the tent appeared to have a constant pressure no matter which point I pressed to get it away.
I began thrashing and pushing against whatever it was, and there was an accompanying terror that felt like this thing meant to unsettle. When it stopped, I began unzipping my tent and got out to find it had pulled up the stakes and left the foundation pad, ended up about six feet away facing the opposite direction, and was upside down.
Stunned and looking across the quietly still meadow and tents, I listened close for any sign of what may have done this, and nothing peeped or moved. I reflected on what the last week meant and where this may be heading as my sensitivity to spiritual and energetic changes became much more attuned.
The parking along the road was monitored by a clique within the Rainbow Family called A-Camp. Gatherings usually frown on alcohol past the gates and will dedicate spaces to being no alcohol at all, but A-Camp historically been the group that drinks, which in these groups comes with caveats.
