On Babylon and Grace
How to write and say what I want to say. There are some aspects to my life that are very hard to make sense of. I have not drawn conclusions on them and that’s why I write. Trying to find solutions for problems that are too complex or obscure for this mind to solve.
So, let me attempt to be as authentic as possible despite an enormous amount of confusion surrounding these topics. Perhaps I’ll find a satisfying resolution through this process. I realize that part of why I have not vocalized much of this confusion is due to the fact that I have been programmed to believe it will incite a certain amount of rejection from my fellow humans. I want to talk about it anyways and it’s going to end up in some weird rambling cause that happens every time. Echoes of endless conversations I’ve had internally, trying to make sense of memories that don’t make sense. Please bear with me. About three of you who these words will reach will be able to read between the lines.
This is a story about my ascending consciously past the constructs of faulty and damaged timelines. It is a story about people like Corey Goode and concepts such as the WingMakers. It is a story about a girl who has been plunged into synchronicities that rarely make sense. It is a story of a girl who walks between worlds but can’t seem to rescue the one fragment of soul that feels held hostage by these ideas.
It is a story about why I was plunged into homelessness and why I’m going to need some help healing these loops and hoops and memories that goes a little further than teaching me about the Law of Attraction cause this poverty well, it runs deep. Teaching me how to fish and dropping me a pole when what I really need is a ladder cause I already know how to fish and it only makes this soul fragment cry out louder “get me out of the fucking well and I’ll tell you what fishing is really all about!”
So let’s start with the confusing parts since this vibe has been circulating, the whys of certain synchronicities, the what does it mean if and when. The numbers. The messages. The so called “secret space program” and the karmic and reincarnate serendipitous nature some of us are living. The threads of timelines we’d just as soon let die and crumble than face. Will we survive the collapse? We’re here aren’t we. We already did survive. Just don’t recreate them. Let’s have a little faith and trust and heal the memories without calling those timelines into this hologram and supporting them into existence.
1992 … the year I fell off the cliff 50 some feet and didn’t die, did get rescued by a boatload of paramedics and firemen going by at that exact moment. Thank you Jesus. 2003, 11 years later, Jesus comes again and brings some friends and cracks the bible code for my dad so his soul could be freed. 2012, nine years later and I figure it’s finally complete but not much happens in my reality so I shrug it off and keep grinding away. I discover a few things… I start writing a story about another reality, about a girl who discovered some ancient writings that would change humanity and the steps she took to decide what to do with them. I share these ideas over text with a dude that liked to help me from time to time, thank you Mason, saved my physical life more than once. “God” calls and asks me to do one more thing, “be the face” was the request. I rediscovered and began utilizing some of the things my dad was taught through art. I was breaking the seals through and with my art cause that’s how metaphor works. We were caged, breaking some of those seals, uncaged us. But the price I paid. The price I am still paying…..
Every bit of that art was thrown away and I was plunged into homelessness, disappeared. The only reason I am still here as far as I can tell is that a whole lot of spirits, both ancestral, off world and “ET” stepped in. I was “extracted” and left for dead but loved by my Creator so… I was saved, that is the best my mind can come up with cause passing through the veil as many times as I have is a hard one even with this much Spiritual proof in my back pocket. And God came really, really, close. I remember having to ask more than once if I was dead or alive because it was all just way too surreal.
“They” brought me to Boulder. And these are the things that are hard to talk about, hard to make sense of. Star of a reality show, tracked, observed, but free to perform the metaphorical finishing touches that released humanity from certain aspects of bondage… of … containment. A Christian saved me and brought me back, because this isn’t your show, it’s God’s. But, nonetheless, I’ve had a pretty difficult time reintegrating. Pretty hard to have seen some of the things I’ve seen, know some of the things I know and not be confused …. Confused to the point where functioning around people who are unaware or unenlightened becomes cumbersome, anxiety provoking, painful. Major pieces of my life that I can’t talk about, that I have to shield from them because the actual truth is not something I’ve figured out how to talk about or get past or or or or or… and the Truth, that disclosure is not the same as ascension or enlightenment and spiritual freedom for humanity, I still see so many ways that this could cause more harm than good. It isn’t THE timeline, it is YOUR timeline and unfortunately mine too except for the fact that it isn’t. And yes, like I’ve repeated ten million times, I am happy to help you heal it, we are in fact, here to heal, I just don’t think leaving me in poverty while I do it, is a viable way to accomplish this given your track record.
And somehow … in all of this, staring at Babylon knowing right where the exit door is, told to hold on to hope, ignore the frustration that I have to figure out a way to create a business selling something to someone, despite what I’ve already done but can’t talk about so I can stay alive because my second trip through homelessness drew a pretty crushing blow to my beliefs in manifestation. That was the time I had to escape the mind fuckery that was coming at me, the energetic frequency manipulations, the threats… yea, I didn’t tell you that was why I hit the road the second time and had to literally travel through hell and homelessness again just to stay alive in 3D, sorry for lying, they were coming for me and I was afraid. Again, I was saved by regular old people, most of whom were/are Christians… that Holy Spirit vibe, I tell you what – THANK YOU JESUS, there’s a reason why we say it so much, there’s a reason why “Alexander” and “Charles” and “Paul” and the rest did what they did. I pray with my whole heart that you never have to know the full extent of what you were saved from. I can tell you, don’t give up your faith no matter what they say. It all still fits together.
What I know is that Christ Consciousness is capable of protecting us from anything you could imagine as a threat, you’ve been watching this happen in seemingly miraculous ways for fifteen years, gentlemen. And if YOUR consciousness is not equipped, turn towards yourself and say the following words I AM SORRY PLEASE FORGIVE ME THANK YOU I LOVE I LOVE I LOVE YOU. Sometimes you cannot make amends for what you did and the only unifying solution is to let the timeline go, fall into the arms of humanity and allow yourself to be healed by normalcy. It wasn’t people who believe in disclosure or ufo’s or magic that saved me… it was regular old hard-working and heart-working Americans. That’s who saved me and that’s what I think of your call for disclosure. I owe them one. See how cool God and balance works out when you let it?
It seems to me you are using the slogan of disclosure so you have a bigger mirror to look into when you ask yourself for forgiveness. Let me make it really really clear how unfair and unwise what you are asking for is until you stop the use of frequency manipulation and testing parameters of psychological warfare on the general public. Just because you don’t believe in God doesn’t mean God doesn’t believe in God. Should I add a “dummies” in here or have you learned to decipher my uncle’s frequency by now. My dead uncle. My Vietnam war veteran dead uncle who is apparently still capable of communicating. Weird, right.
Why does me trying to figure out how to make money always lead me back to this… WHY!!!????
Spiritually mature me knows that stomping my foot on this issue gets me nowhere. Spiritually mature me knows that the solution is to let it go, let that part of me die and never resurrect it again. Spiritually mature me also knows this one cuts deep and this is probably one of those times I should ask for help to heal this. So I am and so it is.