PAGE STATUS: I maintain this page because I think the reader deserves to know as much about me as is reasonable. As far as not disclosing my identity (i.e. using my name), that may change soon.
LAST UPDATE: December 27, 2020
I have come to believe that writing this website is my destiny.
For one in ten thousand readers, that may be happening right now. You can trust me. Bury yourself in my work and listen with your whole heart. I am not making all of this up. It is not my imagination. Exposing what is happening was the reason I was born into this world.
–Uhtred, son of Uhtred
August 27, 2020: I have not visited this page for a long time. I developed it early on thinking full disclosure was a requirement given what has happened to me. But there are two things I never wrote about. They were relatively brief episodes, but both are deeply imprinted on my memory. The reason I think they deserve mention is that they occurred years before I came into contact with ET. I will not attempt to elaborate because so little of what I say about myself is believed by others. I am fully cognizant of this. I am not sure of the chronological order of these two episodes except to say that they were separated by years. In what I believe to be the first, I composed a symphonic work in thought. I know it was my own because I worked on it for days if not weeks. Once it got to a point where it represented what I would describe as a whole movement, the progress stopped. For months afterward, I could recall it. But not now. It is completely gone. I’ve spent well over a decade listening to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra (BSO) and a couple more seasons listening to the Austin Symphony Orchestra (ASO). I assure you, it belonged on stage. The second incident was even more bizarre. Here I want to stress that it lasted only minutes and then was gone forever. I spoke with the voice of William Shakespeare as naturally as water flowing down a brook, with the same metric construction and depth of meaning as the Bard. I spoke out loud, but no one was around at the time. It was my voice, but I was listening at the same time I was speaking. It was not really me. I don’t know what it was or where it came from. Even while it was happening I was completely transfixed. This incident ranks second only to my encounter with ET in both strangeness and wonder. I do not know why this happened. I cannot explain it, though I have come to regard both incidents as alternative paths I might have taken in other times.
The real madmen
I longed for a brother in my youth, but it was not to be. My three half-brothers (no one except my dead mother knows who fathered me) could not understand me. When this Elton John album was released in 1971 and I learned the words to every song on it and started singing alone in my bedroom, their consternation grew by leaps and bounds. Growing up with these animals taught me everything I needed to know about this world. People are small.
Madman Across the Water was the last of the songs on the LP I learned, but it became very special to me—a subtle message to my half-brothers to keep their distance, that I was only passing through their sad little reality.
You saved me in my youth with the promise of something more. You were my Christian Science as a child. The Madman Across the Water YouTube video runtime is 5:58, a number that incorporates my birthday. [Warning: awkward segway coming.] Page 558 also happens to be the first page in the chapter named Apocolypse in which Mrs. Eddy followed in the footsteps of the Book of Daniel and The Revelation by using The Revelation to encode the year of the apocalypse she learned while married to a Royal Arch Freemason. Were that not enough, she did so in almost the exact same cryptological style as the Bard. I was born for this job.
Maybe it’s just more delusion—but I am starting to think she really did know.
I feel a batshit crazy moment coming on.
I am irreverent, too. But only because I’ve been in all your church buildings. They stink to high heaven.
Music and metaphysics
So, What does it mean to introduce myself? I thought about this. It’s actually an interesting problem. Well for me, it means sharing my music and metaphysics. Hence, I added this section. It’s much more me than the storytelling below.
Before the world took hold of this body of mine and tortured it to their delight until finally, I slashed my wrist. Shakespeare was right. It’s a hard thing to ask of yourself. We live forever. Thinking you have some part in that decision is something that actually should make you feel embarrassed—that in a world composed of ONLY consciousness,—the ONLY expression of which is through,—take a moment…
I would define sentient beings as conscious, intelligent beings, but not consciousness itself. We are individualized expressions of the one consciousness. In other words, we are made in the image and likeness of the fabric of the universe. We all got da same brain.
As I was saying, you really should be embarrassed to imagine you possess such power as to influence the very nature of being.
The essence is that which is unchangeable, which was, is, and shall forever be. The mystery of life itself. Whence cometh life? Matter or Mind? (Here I must point out that some people think Mind and matter can co-exist. I am not one of them. That is ground I cannot enter. When I look in that direction all I see is darkness.) As a choice for what constitutes the stuff of life, both matter and Mind involve riddles. In the case of matter, it is the chicken and the egg problem that the materialists cannot solve and will never be able to solve because they live in a hall of mirrors. But the metaphysician faces an even more mysterious question. What is behind Mind? But unlike our foe, we can say “nothing” without seriously weakening our argument. Therein lies the Truth also.
Oh but there’s the rub. One wants to ask, What was there before Mind? And this is how we define Essence. There was nothing there before. Neither in space nor in time. Something had to be there in the beginning, right? Yes, we seem attached by nature itself to this perspective. The metaphysician can cope with this problem. The materialist cannot.
We demand that you define nothing. Whatever your definition of nothing after everything else that cannot be the source or essence of life is stripped away, What is left? Does it have a name? There is and can be only one answer. Consciousness—namely, the consciousness trying to solve the problem. That is all that is left after trying to solve the chicken and the egg problem. You follow me? I doubt it because this is real religion. This is what you must do before insisting on the presence of harmony. You must grapple with your definition of reality.
And what are we? The only thing we can say for sure about the thinker trying to solve the problem is that it is conscious. So consciousness is the definition of nothingness. When you strip away everything else, what is left is consciousness, thought. We exist in thought, and in thought only. How could it be otherwise?
If I have your attention. This is me. Got it? Look at what the world has done to me. This reality needs to be exchanged. Wink. Wink. Let me tell you a story; I really am batshit crazy,—but we live in a world of opposites. The world is almost incomprehensible to me. If everyone would just be honest, all of our problems would melt away over time. Lying tears at the fabric of being. Strive for honesty in your life.
This actually is a very old video of me in the Georgia backwoods while visiting my kinfolk down there. That’s my cousin Virgil in the background nodding his head. This is my family. This is what holds us like chains to the boy inside of ourselves. I’m the little kid swinging his arms to the music next to the tree at the beginning of the video.) Whoever choreographed this is a genius. No kidding.
What you are about to experience is called visual poetry. I’m writing in your head. Now see if you can pick out me and Virgil. Both scenes are close together and near the beginning so pay attention. First, there’s me playing with my friend at the creek and then Virgil nodding behind the guitarists.
This is what happened to the Jacobean Brotherhood. This is what they evolved into after the not-so-civil war. Who would of thunk it was happening in the JawGA backwoods? With these guys at my back, I fear nothing, least of which is death. I’m all in.
The Bard says Hi. (I hear voices, too. In fact, they are screaming at us. Here is the gist of the matter. Are we really the last?)
Now for the rhythmic rap showdown in which there is not only a white audience but challengers for the new rhythmic rap crown. For taking things to a whole new level by introducing what sounds like a Gregorian chant in Chillin in The Backwoods (see above),—one that freely flows from the Jacobean hearts they know not,—No. 5 says the winner is…
I haven’t lost myself in music so much since 50 Cent surfaced without M&M.
And Dr. Dre followed suit.
The musicians are awakened to entertain us and as instruments of communication, but they pay a heavy price for that privilege. Too high a price if you ask me.
For musical balance and just because I can.
Here’s what I think. The time for churches is over. Organized goodness? Now there’s an idea ripe for abuse. They’re like little sideshows. Life is the stage. Do you’re best acting in life. Liven things up a bit for the other actors. Do the unexpected. Do not draw geographical borders around that which is the best part of you. I’ve met some of the best actors and actresses on those sideshow stages. I fought on their turf to learn more about the religious heart. The buildings are holding us back now. Let them die. Do your best acting in life and trust that the fabric of the universe will reflect back the warmth. Let the churches die a natural death. Walk away. Prove what you say.
I can’t quite explain the feeling why, but I am starting to think it has begun.
I love the cops because they can differentiate between the truth and a lie. This fact of life saved my ass more than once. In Florida, at the young age of 18, I was framed for the robbery of a convenience store where I worked. I was interrogated. It lasted only minutes and subsequent to that the management of the entire convenience store chain was jailed. In Baltimore, after a fight to the death in which I cut up a young black man pretty bad, two Irish cops talked to me for about three minutes. I was rushed to the hospital and treated like a hero for defending a young black woman who I never met and did not know. She was being brutally beaten in the lobby of the YMCA where I lived. One of the best guys I knew in my youth became a cop even though his oldest brother spent most of his adult life in penitentiaries. I was in over 300 fights in my youth, only one of which I started. He became a catholic preacher. I don’t take shit off anyone.
I am from the streets of Baltimore.
I didn’t have a black friend. All I knew was black guys.
I grew up in the Meyerhoff listening to the BSO and sitting across the aisle from the head of the Jewish mafia.
I really liked that guy.
And I love good music.
That includes Eminem and this guy.
Then one day a man named Eugene Skarie sent me to Principia College.
The Christian Scientists had found me. They said I had been thrown on the trash heap of society.
Then they threw me back on the trash heap.
Hope springs external.
After a stint in the U.S. Army, I was working in Dallas, Texas soldering copper pipes on high-rise office buildings. One day I came home and someone had stolen my stereo. I called the cops. A single officer arrived not long after. Like every Texas cop I’ve ever met, he exuded character. So when he saw my apartment was empty, he looked genuinely perplexed and said in a noticeably empathetic tone, “They took everything.” I had to explain to him that all I owned was the stereo and a bed. They did not take the bed. Music has always been my best friend. After he left, I laid on the living room floor and wrote these words:
A madness haunts me
and much abounds
in winds of lavender
and lilac smells.
G.W. on the piano
And me, in perfect hell.
The winds of lavender is a reference to Purple Haze. I was a real fan of Jimi Hendrix. And lilac smells is a reference to Lilac Lane, the name of a street at Principia College where I went from heating cans of beans on the radiator at the downtown YMCA on West Franklin Street in Baltimore, Maryland to cavorting with rich Christian Science kids from California for three years. (Forty years later, I can tell you with some measure of certainty, they were as fake as their parents.) These were the two extremes of my life. G.W. is George Winston. I started listening to him during one of the happiest times of my whole life, as a U.S. Army soldier in Augsburg, Germany. So you see I even remember things in terms of the music I was listening to at the time. So when someone stole my stereo, it hurt. I am a rebel spirit. I came, I saw, and I radioed my coordinates back to God and ordered a fire mission on my own position. I was not made for this place.
a three-page dedica-
tion from The Adam
and Eve Story: The History of Cataclysms
by Chan Thomas. I so
know what this guy is
Those who are able to see beyond the shadows and lies of their culture will never be understood, let alone believed by the masses.
The average person reads this quote from Plato as if it were a platitude, not understanding the profundity of what he is saying. We live our lives on the outside looking in, never able to enter therein. Oh my God, what a price we pay!
…Neanderthal and modern human brains were the same size at birth, but that by adulthood, the Neanderthal brain was larger than the modern human brain.
SPECIAL NOTE: I want to be perfectly blunt about something. I suspect 23andMe is the progeny of Jove looking for candidates to save in their tunnel systems in Denver, Colorado. I’ve made it perfectly clear to them that were the massive steel doors to their “vault profound” closing in front of me with the thunderous sounds of the megatsunami waves fast approaching afar off in the distance, I would not enter therein. But I wanted them to know as much as possible about me. I wanted them to know as much as possible about No. 5, The Third Prime in Life and the message he carries from God (or ET) knows where.
Questions and answers
Question: Is this a religious website?
Question: There are over seven billion people on the planet and countless websites with people clamoring for attention and claiming to have special insights into the reality of things. Why should I believe you?
Answer: Because I am the real thing. You will know and understand this the closer you get to me.
Question: Do you suffer from delusions of grandeur or megalomania? Do you hear voices? Are you a madman, crazy person, or bipolar?
Answer: No, but I am of necessity very different. I may be bipolar though. I think human beings are mutating into something vastly more improved. It feels threatening to those left behind and so they have labeled it as something evil.
Question: You claim that in late 2012 while camping outside of Seligman, Arizona that you telepathically communicated with ET and that the following morning they landed with the specific intent of meeting you. A lot of people make such claims. Why should we believe you?
Answer: Because I have spent my entire life trying to be the most honest person I could be. If reality is mental, telling a lie is like ripping at the fabric of the universe. It is precisely because I have dedicated my entire life to being the most honest person I could be that I trust God to care for me. He does. He (or She) always will. That is why honesty defines who I am. I like cops because they are experts at detecting liars. In that sense, they understand me better than most people. I know how hard it is to believe, but it really did happen. Every great once in a while, I look into the night sky searching for them. The funny thing is, even I am still reluctant to believe others who report such encounters. In fact, I am sure some of them are lying because having experienced this, I can just tell they did not. There is a definite lack of astonishment and wonder in their recollection of what happened. It changes you. You are never the same again. They are vastly far ahead of us. And any report that they are less than loving is a falsehood. They are what I imagine we should be. I yearn to be among them. Unless and until I meet Christ Jesus in the here and now (which I think possible because I believe with all my heart that he is one of them and therefore really may return after the coming Earth crustal displacement), the few minutes I had with those two beings make all the considerable suffering I have experienced in this life pale in significance. Lost loves aside, I would not trade who I am for any other man who has ever lived or ever will live on this dreary planet. Not Caesar, not anyone. Let me say that again, I regret nothing. Who among you can say this and mean it with your whole heart?
Question: Are you special? Why?
Answer: Yes. I can’t entirely answer that question. It’s like I have X-ray glasses and can see through to the heart of the matter everywhere I focus my attention, be it science, religion, or people. As a normal human being, it is a curse. Let me say that again, this is not something you want. I have suffered my entire life because of this. Speaking the truth in this world is very dangerous. But I will not yield myself to the tyranny of normalcy and the mundane. I will not die while I yet live. That is why I have over time drifted toward writing. I really do care about people. Writing allows me to share what I know without interacting with my audience. Everyone must find a context in which to understand the world. The problem arises when they encounter something or someone who is larger than the context of their entire life experience. They cannot frame what they cannot possibly understand. They reduce what they do not understand to something infinitely smaller and in the image and likeness of themself, which is to say, something ugly. I experience this all the time. I live with it. I have no choice. At a much deeper level, one that I perhaps should not share, “we” think so infinitely faster than the vast majority of people that it is like studying something frozen in slow motion. In fact, whenever my life is threatened, slow motion is the only thing that can describe what happens. Were it not so, I would have died in a street fight in downtown Baltimore when I was 19 years old or in Panama when eight men entered my house with the intent of robbing me and my domestic partner and five of them had Glocks in their right hand. Even I am amazed when this happens.
Question: Are you a prophet? Does God speak to you?
Answer: I do not believe in prophecy. Please read № 102. There are no prophets. Two things are happening here. In the case of Enoch, the so-called “prophets” in the Old Testament, the Nazarene (Christ Jesus), and an obscure figure in history to which I owe my very life, a woman named Mary Baker Eddy, they learned of what is about to happen to our generation from a very special people I refer to as the progeny of Jove. These are people whose memory extends back to previous world ages. The rest of what we think of as prophecy is the ability to see what is happening in the here and now and project the long term consequences into the future. But that is just thinking. Nothing else. Here I would like to add for my Jewish friends, you guys are some really creative writers, but the whole Moses and his magic wand thing is pure delusion. That was the comet Venus that parted the waters (think Velikovsky and Worlds in Collision). Pretty cool, but get over it. God is impartial. He (or She) is no respecter of persons. (“It” is the proper pronoun for what I like to think of as the “fabric of the universe.”) You are not nor were you ever a “chosen” people except perhaps in the sense that ET impregnated a Jewish woman. That is my working theory on the origin of the “Christ.” Speaking of which for Christ’s sake, would you please stop praying to a Roman fortress wall. It’s embarrassing. You are definitely a smarter people, though. That is why I have dated Jewish women my entire life and live with one now.
Question: You’re a blond-haired, blue-eyed “white” male who lives in the “heart of Texas,” think of yourself as pure German and talk about eugenics. Are you prejudiced?
Answer: My background makes it impossible for me to be prejudice. Black men have offered me solace all my life. My idea of a perfect summer evening is kicking back with a tall boy and the old black guy on the block that nobody ever really notices. Great wisdom can be had there. If you really want to understand me though, know this; my grandfather was a “white slave” in Pennsylvania. When he died and the animals who parade as human beings and who have the gull to think of themselves as my brothers started dividing all his worldly goods, I asked only for a copy of his 20 page autobiography in which he talks about those early years before he gained his freedom and met my dear maternal grandmother. Unlike most black men alive today, he took horsewhip marks on his back to his grave. They were put there by the Germans in Pennsylvania. I took his name when I discovered I was a bastard child. As for being German, I may be the only person on the entire planet who knows what price the Germans paid for resisting the progeny of Jove when they were the Roman elite. Most of what you know of as history is payback. WWII was a complex operation. It had several primary objectives. The main one was to herd the Jews back to Palestine so that the The Revelation would appear to be what its title proclaims. The second most important reason why the progeny of Jove started WWII though was the estimated two million rapes of German women that occurred at the end of the war. I will not comment on the thinking behind this. I am sure the reader can arrive at the correct conclusions on his own. This is the same thinking that has sent millions of Arabs into Germany while the German people are told they must suffer this abuse because of all the evil they did in WWII to the Jews. It’s a tragic comedy. Their latest move is the economic disaster, Monsanto. The Germans are hated by the progeny of Jove second only to the Jews. And those two groups of human beings have suffered worse than any other people on the face of the earth as a result. That does not mean there are not a lot of Germans in Golden, Colorado. There are an inordinate number of Germans in Golden, Colorado. Reality, and by that I mean what it means to be the progeny of Jove, is not as simple as you might like it to be. It is the knowledge they share that defines them in this generation, not their history, genetics, or country of origin. In some ways, I admire them. In others, I think they are a curse. They fully intend to rid the world of blacks and Jews. Make no mistake about that. Doing so is a profound mistake though. Genetic diversity is our strength, not a weakness. It must be valued above all else. That is why I live in Austin, Texas. It is a crossroads of people from all over the earth. Eugenics is important to me because of a relatively recent mutation of the progeny of Jove known as the European Illuminati unleashed on us by The Nine to do the dirty work necessary in these end times and whose descendants defeated the United States of America in the so-called Civil War and who control it to this very day. It is they who are responsible for everything that happened in WWI and WWII. War is a pastime for them. They are a freak show, and what is wrong with them is purely genetic. They are inbred psychopaths that must be stopped. And they will be. It is they who are being herded into granite tunnels deep below the earth where they will as a whole die an instantaneous and ignoble death and be lost to history as if they never existed. That is their end. And that is the message I carry. That is the message I was born to deliver to them. So am I prejudiced? No. But I will say this, just once. If you’re reading this and you’re a black man, you better wake the fuck up because the one thing I will not publish, the one thing I think could actually get me killed, is the remarkably subtle evidence in the Tomorrowland film that suggests the progeny of Jove fully intend to wipe Africans from the face of the planet in the aftermath of the coming Earth crustal displace. You’ve been warned.
And Regarding Judaism: Do not mistake anything I say on this website as contempt for the Jews. My entire life has been defined by Judaism. I left home at 19 years of age to fight for the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), but never made it past Baltimore where I encountered Christian Science. Almost every woman I have ever dated my entire life was Jewish. I live now with a Russian Jew. Hell, I even sat across the aisle from the head of the Jewish mafia at the Meyerhoff listening to the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra (BSO) for over a decade. I am not anti-semitic.
The author was born in the United States of America and as a child attended the McCoy family reunions in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, one of the oldest families of European descent in that country.
My maternal grandfather, whose name I took after discovering I was a bastard child, was raised a “white slave” in Pennsylvania until he gained his freedom at the age of 21. At one of the “homes” where he worked, they would strip him naked and make him stretch out over a large chest in the attic and then whip him with a horsewhip when he did not work hard enough for them. Without exception, he was the most honest man I have ever met. All of his life he shot squirrels and rabbits for food. He used a .22 rifle that hung over the side door of his house. I am of German descent.
I am also a Christian Scientist (a student of Mary Baker Eddy), though not a member of the Mother Church, nor any local churches for that matter.
I am an outcast in my own church because of my willingness to say these things. So be it. Mrs. Eddy would not recognize her own church. Her textbook, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures was not intended for this world. It is my heartfelt conviction that it was written for the people who survive the coming Earth crustal displacement.
One of the most abstract thinkers alive, if not the most
In 1974 an unexpected announcement was made over the intercom at Annandale High School in Annandale, Virginia, where I was in my sophomore year. We were asked to return to our “homerooms” and take a series of battery tests.
This astounded me because, with the notable exception of geometry (during which class I had the brightest students in school asking me questions), I was a C, D, and F student all throughout public school. So I contacted the company that administered the test and asked them how many people got 100%. I was told that no one got 100% because it was “statistically impossible.”
I know this really happened because to this day I still remember the last question on that test. It amazed me. I distinctly remember thinking to myself “whoever wrote this question is extraordinarily intelligent.” I even recall at the time wondering what it is that they were looking for. It seemed to me as if they were looking for something. And then the test ended and I went back to the awkward reality that was life as an adolescent in the early 1970’s when the music died.
I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news
But she just smiled and turned away
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play
And in the streets, the children screamed
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed
But not a word was spoken
The church bells all were broken
And the three men I admire most
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died
The 1970s in the United States was what I think of as a cultureless generation. I felt like a complete outsider.
Highly abstract thinkers have several peculiar traits. The most important one is that they process every possible combination of ideas, every possibility. What does that mean to “process” a possibility? This is the part you cannot possibly understand. We live it. We live the reality of it. We accept it as true in our mind in order to see and feel the reality of that combination, of that possible reality. And we do this at light speed. In those fleeting moments, we are making more connections than the best supercomputer ever built. This is not bragging. This is a fact largely because we think in colors, so-to-speak. Things have different weights based on various criteria. This is what allows us to think faster than you could ever know and faster than supercomputers which can only process facts, raw data. AI is a dream, the product of an overactive imagination. It will never happen. What we are doing is not biological. It cannot be recreated mechanically.
The second most important trait of highly abstract thinkers is that they do not become entrenched in a position. If something comes along that better explains the available facts, they will readily abandon their current position no matter how long it has been held or how hard they have fought to defend it. This is what differentiates a highly abstract thinker such as myself from mainstream science, academia, and the mathematically insane. We are not proud. We care only about the truth.
The truth is, when it comes to this website, most people think I am batshit crazy. My answer to such criticism is simply to remind myself that I would not trade who I am for anyone alive or who has ever lived. I intend to survive the coming Earth crustal displacement. Methinks I will be one of the last thoughts of many who do not. Among them are my family, the one woman I ever loved, and my domestic partner of over 14 years now, a PhD and local Buddhist leader who says she would rather die than try to survive in the new world, but who I secretly suspect thinks I am batshit crazy too.
That’s really me in the picture at the top of this page. The answer is no; I don’t care. I am more alive than 99.9% of the people on the planet. Maybe that’s why I look 20 years younger than I am.
Abstraction makes possible an uncompromising synthesis of a multitude of apparently discrete ideas from widely different fields of thought. Cross-discipline thinking is a subspecies of highly abstract thinking, a step in the right direction. But nothing, not even formal education, can reliably reproduce this ability of thought. It is singular. It is innate.
The role of intuition
I don’t care where it takes me, I will trust my intuition until the end of my time on this dreary planet. Learning to follow your intuition is not unlike learning to listen to God. Both are a “still, small voice.” Perhaps they are the same thing.
For example, when I first saw that comet ISON was going to form a perfect equilateral triangle with Earth and Venus with sides equal to 0.51 AU (the sides of the Great Pyramid of Giza are angled precisely at 51 degrees, 51 minutes) on what turned out to be the last day (or “end date”) of the Maya Long Count calendar, I sensed immediately that I was witnessing something profoundly important. Now I will never be able to prove anything about comet ISON, but I just know it was a very special message to mankind. Always trust your intuition.
July 23, 2012
See also: A Warning from History: The Carrington Event Was Not Unique by Dr. Tony Phillips, August 30, 2020
But something else is happening. There is more to the story because on July 23, 2012, the day a Carrington-level CME crossed slightly ahead of Earth’s orbital path, I was walking out the back door of our home in the Garden District of New Orleans when something profound happened. To this day I cannot fully explain what happened to me that evening. It was a calm, beautiful day and I was doing errands. Nothing out of the usual was happening. All I can tell you is that ever since then I have been leaning at a phenomenal speed. One evening shortly thereafter, I was sitting at my desk and experienced something that I have only been able to describe as the feeling of “swimming” in pure intelligence. It lasted for about half an hour. The message was that everything is connected through elliptical (or circular) orbits and that if you cannot see the orbital path of an object around something else, then you are too close to the object that you are observing. It took years for me to fully understand the significance of this message.
Now if you can imagine the consequential helical model of the motion of our Sun and the planets (by DjSadhu), you can begin to understand how mind-boggling is the reality of this universal law of motion. Even DjSadhu is oversimplifying because the Sun does not move in a straight line. Nothing does. It moves around the solar system barycenter (referred to as the “Jose solar cycle” and one of the two primary units of measurement used in the design of the Maya Long Count. And then there is our binary relationship with the Sirius star system. This cannot form a vesica pisces as is commonly thought. It must follow the same helical model as our solar system with Sirius at the center, which means practically no one is properly imagining the complex movement of our planet through space. When I realized this, I felt as if I was contemplating the reality of our place in the galaxy for the first time. I could see that by the time you add in hundreds of thousands of asteroids and comets (think rocks in space) that our ability to conceptualize this movement is clearly limited. The main point is the connectivity of everything to everything else. This may not sound so profound in this context, but I assure you being there was inexplicably wonderful.
My contact with ET
Now. Now is when you will leave. Now is when you will shrink away from my words and conclude in your heart that I am a madman. I would reach out to you with tears beading in my eyes and plead the veracity of all that I say on this website, including especially this incident, but the world is full of liars and I cannot compensate for the damage they may have caused you. Nor am I unsympathetic towards the lives of those who pray to the god of normalcy and know only the mundane. To awaken such a one is truly miraculous. Yet I cannot and will not apologize for who and what I am.
I was camping in the mountains outside Seligman, Arizona in late 2012. One night as I was staring into the heavens I noticed a “star” dart across the sky for what looked like to me a couple of inches, but given the space that separated me from this object, that two inches must have represented a vast distance. At first, I thought I must be mistaken. I watched it closely for a little while and it did the same thing. Profound confusion is what I felt in that moment. What followed was even stranger. It moved several more times, but not unless I focused on it in such a way that I felt some kind of mental connection. After doing this repeatedly, I turned and walked away in utter disbelief, crying, and telling myself that this could not be happening. So I stopped and thought for a minute what I could do to convince myself that this was really happening, and then I returned to where I had been before, planted my feet firmly on the ground slightly wider than shoulder-width and ever so slightly squatted so that there was no chance of my feet or legs moving. Then I used my hands to form a triangle over my head with the “star” at the top and focused all of my mental strength on not moving a muscle. I could not be more sure that I was frozen in place during what followed. Then I proceeded to mentally plead (no spoken words) that if what I was experiencing was real, that they would provide me with unequivocal proof. After a few moments the spaceship (because it was certainly no star) began ever so slowly (in a kind of “follow the bouncing ball” movement) to trace the right-hand side of the triangle, then the bottom from right to left, and then the left. After reaching the top it tracked back down the left-hand side of the triangle and stopped. I have never been quite the same person since then. But not even that prepared me for the following morning.
What happened that morning was so strange that five years passed before I told my best friend and domestic partner of 13 years. I do not think I would have ever told her except she knows I have dedicated my entire life to being the most honest person I can be. In other words, she knows I don’t lie.
Therefore I must leave the details to your imagination, though I seriously doubt you will ever imagine correctly. All I can tell you was that during this period of my life I lived as purely as I possibly could; no drugs or alcohol were involved. At first, it felt as if I was selected to be some kind of guinea pig as if I was being tested to see how much strangeness my mind could handle. I could sense that at the time and answered the best way I possibly could, by just smiling back at them in what was a heartfelt wonderment. Nothing was said, though after an initial exchange of smiles there followed brief, unmistakable laughter (first one of them, then me) in what felt like the precise moment in which we accepted each other’s presence as non-threatening. I never felt threatened, not for one moment. Wonderment is all I remember of that morning.
It feels right to finally be saying this. Just please do not ask me for details. I will never again attempt to share the details of what happened that morning with another living soul. This is as far as I can go. Though I trust in God to protect me on the coming day of the Lord, if the Almighty does not see fit to save me, I am confident these beings will. They have truly amazing powers. I say this in all earnestness. I am fearless. I do not think I shall ever again know the wonderment and joy I felt that morning. When one of them first laughed, I felt as if the universe was full of joy awaiting me after my experience on this dreadful planet. Sometimes I wonder if they had something to do with what happened to me on July 23, 2012.
Appendix A, Lessons from elementary school
So why was I such a poor student in public school (and college for that matter)? It came to me to add this little appendix to my “About the Author” page to explain something for which I was famous in elementary school. At the time, in the mid to late 1960s in the United States of America, children were foolishly required to participate in civil defense exercises in case the Russians dropped an atomic bomb on us. It was called “Duck and Cover.” Only in my case, Masonville Elementary School was inside the beltway in Northern Virginia just outside of the nation’s capital and a stone’s throw away from the Pentagon. Our chances of surviving a nuclear holocaust were zero.
After walking us out of class and making us get down on the ground in the hallway, the last thing we were told was to put our heads between our legs to which I would invariably add “and kiss your ass goodbye.” Everyone knew I was going to say it, and I knew I was going to be severely punished, but the absurdity of the situation was such that it always got the better of me and I always played my part, laughing uncontrollably. Such has been my life.
Could the children at Masonville Elementary School have survived a nuclear attack on the United States, inside the beltway for Washington, D.C., and eight miles away from the Pentagon?
The R-36 (Russian: Р-36) is a family of intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) and space launch vehicles (Tsyklon) designed by the Soviet Union during the Cold War. The original R-36 was deployed under the GRAU index 8K67 and was given the NATO reporting name SS-9 Scarp. It was able to carry three warheads and was the first Soviet MIRV (multiple independently targetable reentry vehicle) missile…
The R-36 (SS-9) is a two-stage rocket powered by a liquid bipropellant, with UDMH as fuel and nitrogen tetroxide as an oxidizer. It carries one of two types of re-entry vehicles (RVs) developed especially for this missile:
- SS-9 Mod 1 single nuclear warhead of 18 megatons TNT.
- SS-9 Mod 2 single nuclear warhead of 25 megatons TNT.
…Flight tests of the rocket were completed by May 20, 1968 and on November 19 of the same year it entered service.
Wikipedia, R-36 (missile)
Nothing in my home town of Annandale, Virginia would have survived a 25 Megaton nuclear bomb dropped on the Pentagon. Nothing.
I was more than a half-century ahead of this Ted-Ed talk and the audience laughter. And I repeatedly exposed myself to the mindless abuse of Mrs. Robinson in order to tell my fellow classmates what I thought about our prospects of surviving a nuclear attack. I grew up with Mark Boger, one of the most popular deputy sheriff’s of all time in Fairfax County, Virginia. Mark told me once, “people never change.” I think he was right.
William Shakespeare (the playwright, not the actor) was the most respected progeny of Jove since Pythagoras, and I can assure you his name was…
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?—To die,—to sleep,—
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,—’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die,—to sleep;—
To sleep: perchance to dream:—ay, there’s the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,
The pangs of despis’d love, the law’s delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,—
The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns,—puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought;
And enterprises of great pith and moment,
With this regard, their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.