Thank you, Moojibaba, thank you.


Ascension, soul , , , , , , , , , , ,

Ridiculed by family and friends lifelong for being a "conspiracy theorist", survivalist and prepper, the author was born to ancestry on each side steeped in Freemasonry (Masonic Order Scottish Rite, Eastern Star, Job's Daughters), the Oddfellows and the Elks, John Birch and other secret societies, while being German, Celtic Irish / Welsh and Cherokee in both direct parental lineages. Those who are awake know the significance of this lineage. Her early childhood and youth were shaped by devout Lutheranism, scouting, serving as Chaplain in Job's Daughters, and almost becoming Amish! After reading 1984 in 1974, she stopped watching television at age 14, and at 17, refused multiple recruitment attempts by the CIA. By age 25, she was an antique dealer who helped coin the term kitsch, and an accomplished, self-sufficient non-GMO organic gardener and master food preserver, with two young children, a degree in Chemistry, and a scholarship to Johns Hopkins Medical School. The tragic death of her closest brother derailed her medical studies, and having become a divorced single parent by age 27 with no child support, instead pursued advanced degrees in fine arts and hospice nursing. However, monetary reward was not to come. As years went by, a pattern of MK Ultra interference emerged, interrupting completion of her goals. The strong educational background in math, sciences and computers, fine arts, literature and history imbued her ability to decipher the intentionally confusing reality of the toxic world we live in. Previous employers include NASA Goddard, the Discovery Channel and Aerotek. As the "truther movement" gained momentum world-over, the undeniably visible dangers of GMOs, chemtrails, and the surveillance state grew evident. Interviewed on NPR's National Public Radio in 2011 as a pioneer GMO-free food producer, her life took another fateful turn three years later, after her primary care physician refused to diagnose and treat her for Lyme Disease, she realized she had developed what is commonly called Morgellons, and immediately discovered that the systemic coverup and refusal to diagnose or treat meant she had to heal herself. Drawing on every aspect of her lifetime of experience and learning enabled her to not only recover, but to achieve a greater health - in middle age - than is believed possible. In the process of detoxification and physical regeneration - especially the pineal gland - she found a working diet almost anyone can follow that raises frequency and sovereign intention, readying the mind, body and spirit for humanity's greatest challenge: Ascension.

1 comment

  1. Delmore Schwartz, the son of jewish Romanian immigrants to Brooklyn, lived from 1913-1966. In a sense he reminds me of Peter in the WINTER’S TALE movie. His poem The Heavy Bear Who Goes With Me describes what we must transcend. He calls it descriptively “the withness of the body”.
    It is of particular note that he is described (example article url as having mental illness and substance issues and died anonymously, with no material gain. Those who are not of this world see past the labels these words make a prison of.

    The heavy bear who goes with me,
    A manifold honey to smear his face,
    Clumsy and lumbering here and there,
    The central ton of every place,
    The hungry beating brutish one
    In love with candy, anger, and sleep,
    Crazy factotum, disheveling all,
    Climbs the building, kicks the football,
    Boxes his brother in the hate-ridden city.

    Breathing at my side, that heavy animal,
    That heavy bear who sleeps with me,
    Howls in his sleep for a world of sugar,
    A sweetness intimate as the water’s clasp,
    Howls in his sleep because the tight-rope
    Trembles and shows the darkness beneath.
    —The strutting show-off is terrified,
    Dressed in his dress-suit, bulging his pants,
    Trembles to think that his quivering meat
    Must finally wince to nothing at all.

    That inescapable animal walks with me,
    Has followed me since the black womb held,
    Moves where I move, distorting my gesture,
    A caricature, a swollen shadow,
    A stupid clown of the spirit’s motive,
    Perplexes and affronts with his own darkness,
    The secret life of belly and bone,
    Opaque, too near, my private, yet unknown,
    Stretches to embrace the very dear
    With whom I would walk without him near,
    Touches her grossly, although a word
    Would bare my heart and make me clear,
    Stumbles, flounders, and strives to be fed
    Dragging me with him in his mouthing care,
    Amid the hundred million of his kind,
    The scrimmage of appetite everywhere.

%d bloggers like this: