I am in the midst of watching perhaps the most intriguing bit of television programming I have seen in years – maybe ever on Netflix. I am addicted to Battlestar Galactica, the 2004 to 2009 television series raising questions as to the origins of humankind and our relationship with another type of man-made intelligence. I cannot speak with authority in knowing the point of the whole thing as I am only on episode 47 out 76. I can only speak to the feelings that this series is bringing up for me.

First, I have to say that I am not, nor have ever been, fascinated with SciFi. The colorless backdrops of gray metal, grates, grids and lifeless environments are depressing to me. I have always said that I would not raise my hand to board a spacecraft and leave this planet. The beauty here, on earth, is limitless if we simply open our eyes. For this reason I have not chosen to watch any previous television series featuring life aboard spacecraft and into the future – until now. I am, however, fascinated with our origins and with “Others” who I believe have been here since the beginning and are still in our presence. Our fascinations in life are not without foundation.

In the late 1980s, I was experimenting with past life regression to know myself better and to have a greater understanding of our collective deep past. The sessions took me to other realities as far back as the earliest peopling of the planet to relatively recent times and everything in between. I experienced things I could never have conceived of and tucked it away for piecing together in the future. One stop was aboard a space ship.

In this scene, I was not one of the “Others”, I was a human working peacefully in the field of science in association with Others. We were trekking to another planet to bring back certain minerals for our use here on earth. The moment that intrigued me most was the challenge of feeding myself and the other humans aboard the space craft. In this scene I watched the alien beings generating a series of codes, a genetic blueprint, for apples. There was a small, clear chamber of sorts in which I watched an apple phase into physical density after having its genetic code activated, by what means I do not know.

Jumping to 2001, I was out in the field with Steven Greer’s E-Ceti group. At night we remote viewed and watched for anonymous activity in the skies. During one of our daytime lectures Greer explained what he had been shown by his own ‘contacts’ about the subject of feeding humans aboard spacecraft. It should not surprise you at this point to learn that he described the exact experience I had recalled during the regression – the creation of an apple via the visualization of its genetics. While I have had many points of validation for my experiences, this one stuck with me for some inexplicable reason.

When a friend recently asked me if I had watched Battlestar Galactica, I explained that I don’t care to watch anything that involves life in space – the lack of beauty and foliage depresses me. I had not thought, until that moment, to look at why that might be. I had a charge around the issue of being in outer space. Why would this be if I had not encountered this in the past?

Now, 47 episodes into Battlestar Gallactica, it lives by my side between viewings as though there is a parallel life waiting to be discovered. I have no resistance to the notion of engineered lifeforms as there is evidence that we ourselves may have been engineered at least in part. But I feel this alternate/televised reality is pulling me closer to something in us. The BG human beings have no awareness of their distant past. There have no awareness of their own soul. They are being guided by a woman who is relying on ancient lore to find the way home for her people. For the Colonialists, home is to be Earth, but they must fight for the space with the artificial life-form created by themselves, the Cylons.

There is something eerily intertwined with this story and some piece of our own. Having journeyed to far away times, though this is only my experience, I feel that our species is drawing near to a time in which our true roots will be revealed. I have already spent a great deal of time researching this final frontier and I am sublimating the almost hypnotic desire to go to the ultimate unknown through, oddly, a TV series. Life imitates art, or is it?

Barbara Marx Hubbard once told me privately that, as a strong and self-sufficient woman, love has never been easy. The same held true for me. While the men I had spent time with over the course of my adult life were attracted to what appeared to be a successful media woman, they were not prepared to take on the extended implications of my strength, nor of my weaknesses. I have opinions and thoughts about a myriad of topics and have never played the ‘subservient’ role well. When I offered up my thoughts on this topic or that, their faces generally either glazed over or appeared to feel threatened, often both at the same time. I suppose it’s to be expected. Who, after all, wants to talk of remote viewing, quantum healing, soul agreements or ETs over their morning croissant?

At the same time I have spent a great deal of my life, unconsciouly, as a pleaser and am uncomfortable if the people around me are not happy. So, like many women, I would prove overly accommodating to make the other person happy, which often led to feelings of having been exploited or disrespected. I have a very low tolerance for this kind of pain and would inevitably act in my own best interest and move away from the relationship. This unconscious behavior on my part robbed me of  knowing the sublime feeling of trust on the deepest levels.  So about twelve years ago I found a form of sublimation – Argentine Tango.

This seemingly macho, South American form of expression has rules. Men lead and women follow. Women like me either become addicted to it, or stomp off the floor after their first couple of milongas (tango gatherings), never to return.  I would have guessed that I was a candidate for the latter.

With Argentine tango, there is an objective element that supersedes popularity, physical appearance, and even friendship at times. If you can do the dance well, you will have plenty of partners. If you do not, you will sit on the sidelines all night long, alone. This is in part because of the tradition that men must ask the woman to dance. In nouveau tango circles this has since changed, where women dance together and people just play, but I had entered the traditional tango scene and I had to play by the rules or quit.

By my third milonga/practica session I was ready to quit. The man I was dancing with had had no real feel for the dance nor the music and I felt as though I was being tortured through the set of three to four tangos. I would subtly try to back-lead, to no avail. He was insistent that he lead, as he well should have. At the same time, I wasn’t skilled enough to dance with the more fluid and advanced men.

I sat down after the set of dances, agitated, and realized that I could either learn a little grace and humility and learn to follow another human being’s cue, or I could walk out and never return.

I stayed. And I learned patience, humility and the beauty of surrender. I also learned about give and take and how a truly empowered man gives the woman free reign of expression. This was exemplified in the dances and performances of the mature dance couples in which all eyes were on the woman, though the man was creating the impeccable leads that allowed her to shine.

While I cannot say this is the perfect simile for intimate relationships, it gave me a glimpse into surrender from a safe distance.  As I danced or practiced three to four nights a week, I became a decent follower and dance partner.  As I further developed my skills, the more comfortable I felt to close my eyes and melt into the dance. I became addicted to the surrender. This was one place I could go and not have to make all of the decisions, not be responsible for anything except my own body moving with another body to the music.

There was one caveat. I could only do this with the better dancers. When a man was not sure of himself and gave either unclear, or overbearing leads, I would keep my eyes open, alert for danger. But, when a man was confident, relaxed and skilled, I would surrender completely, eyes shut, head against his cheek, one hundred percent present and in the moment to respond to his next improvised lead as the entire dance is improvised and led by the man and responded to in kind by the woman. She brings to the dance whatever she chooses to create in response to the lead in the moment.

This is not an easy journey for a mate that doesn’t dance. Because Scott knows that tango feeds my heart and soul on some level, he encourages me to continue, and, for that I am truly grateful. These are some of my best moments outside of space and time.

Last Saturday afternoon I knocked on wood as I thought to myself, thank goodness Leonard Horowitz’s predictions of a particularly nasty flu this winter hasn’t crossed our paths. By evening I was beginning to fade.

We had just run into Leonard at the Conscious Living Expo in Los Angeles and taped some of his announcement of his new book on the 528 Hz. frequency of love, which had reminded me of our last meeting in which we spoke of 528 and the coming strains of flu. I was counting my lucky stars that Scott and I have had no sniffles at all this year.

We had just spent the night with our friends Sheila and Marcus Gillette during which Sheila told tales of this ungodly flu bug that had taken her down for two weeks. Some of her friends had lost a month or more to the bug. We shuttered to think. Still in the middle of doing a dozen interviews within a couple of weeks, we needed all the energy we have.

By Monday, Valentine’s Day, I said “Honey, can we drive home – right now?” This meant missing an important meeting with some associates in Los Angeles, dinner with Sheila and Marcus and appearing live on their radio show the next morning. But there was no choice, I was fading fast. Scott headed north up the 405.

That was Monday. It’s now Saturday. We just poked the last of the sweat soaked sheets and clothing through the washing machine door, washed our gnarled hair, shaved and made a cup of tea. Whatever this bug is, it didn’t feel like a normal flu at all. Let’s start with the glass shards in the stomach with instant stomache aches that doubled us over, though no nausea. We had fevers for 4 days straight. The stuff that comes up from our lungs is green and brown. It felt as though we had only 5-10% of our enegy available during the first four days. Our minds were either asleep, dozing or just short of delirious.

Once we each caught a clear thought Scott dragged his body to the accupuncturist, which helped him come back around a good deal. I was too tired to move so I called Harvey Bigelsen and cranked up my bio-mat, in spite of the fact that I was already hot.

I had procured some isopathic remedies from Harvey a while back for some dental work. It was a live germ antibiotic that would replace any need for a pharmaceutical antibiotic. Considering my flu symptoms, he suggested I take one in the morning and one in the afternoon, that’s all.

Within 6 hours I went from feeling like a disoriented women in her twilight years holding onto the walls just to walk the length of the hallway, to my relatively normal self, but with 50% of the energy, which is a big improvement over 5%. I then started using the bio mat on high infra red settings, which helped maintain my progress. Wild Oregano Oil and colloidal silver made into a tincture went up the snout via a mister. I am on the mend as is Scott.

Meanwhile, I spoke with a friend who had come down with the same thing while in Los Angeles at Thanksgiving as happened a friend of hers traveling there separately on the same weekend. I can’t imagine how many people attending the Expo left with the same ‘gift’. Normally I have all my little tinctures and my mat nearby and manage to keep virus’ and such from effecting me, but we were on the road and more vulnerable.

My intuitive hit, not that it helps, is that this is an engineered flu. Perhaps I’ve been in the world of intrigue and conspiracy too long, but that’s what it feels like. I would be curious to find out what you may know, and to see if any of you have had this same bug and what has worked in your recovery. Perhaps we can pool our information and help one another get through the remainder of the flu season.

Tuesday, February 22

Yes. That feels better. I’ve been eating only clean and light sources of food, especially avocados with lemon juice, have drunk lots of vitamin C with pure Elderberry Syrup and have been using a steamer/inhaler with wild oregano oil. This helped to clear my chest nicely. Now it’s time to get back to work!

Meanwhile, I want to thank you for your kind and helpful comments, comments that hopefully gave some guidance and wisdom to others who have fallen ill to these strange bugs.

I’ve recently written some blogs about the electrical nature of our True Self, or soul. The soul’s electrical impulse gives animus to the physical body’s electrical circuitry at the time of birth and withdraws at the time of death. It’s the part of us that lives between the cells of the body – the spark of life. But what do we know about our physical electrical nature?

I just interviewed Don Tolman, cowboy health vigilante who has been called a cross between Albert Einstein and George Carlin. Everything he says makes sense, at least to me. This interview was preceded with an interview with physicist and all round genius David Sereda. They both ended up at the same place – we are electrical beings and if we do not receive enough of an electrical charge from the things that maintain life, we die. Conversely, if we receive too much electrical impulse from a grand scale solar event, for example, we could short out. Either way, we need to consider our electrical nature and begin to accomodate this rarely considered aspect of physical health.

The Spark of Life

As Don mentions in our radio interview this month (http://www.cmn.tv/radio/don-tolman/) the greatest electrical nutrients are within our everyday experience and with a small amount of effort we can maximize on them. The same is true of our food supply. That which is raw, organically grown in fertile soil and is fresh, is alive and has it’s own conductive and assimilation properties via its minerals.

In addition there are therapies that use electrical currents such as Rife type technologies, which send specific electrical frequencies to the body to kill invading organisms. Acupuncture re-balances the electrical system by inserting tiny needles into the electrical pathways.

When the electrolytes in the body go out of balance there is not sufficient spark to keep the vital functions operating. I know this one well as I was born with a condition in which my minerals can be thrown out of balance with little provocation. This has necessitated untold numbers of visits to emergency rooms around the world. When I try to describe it, all I can say is that I feel as though the plug has been pulled, that I can’t feel the energy around my body and it feels like I am dying, which I am. Out of self defence, I have learned to protect my electrical system.

As Don Tolman says, the path to a healthy electrical system is simple:

1. Breathe fresh air every day. 2. Drink freshly charged water (shake it up before drinking). 3. Get out in the sunlight! 4. Move your body to keep the energy moving and all systems vital. 5. Eat foods that are alive with minerals, vitamins and energy.

Another method of charging our field is well know to all of us – our morning shower. Research has shown that falling water creates thousands of negative ions by splitting otherwise neutral particles of air, freeing electrons to manifest their vitalizing function. These electrons join up with smaller air particles, thus giving them a predominantly negative charge – negative ions. This helps clear our ‘field’ of static and noise while refreshing us.

I use a high tech add on. A few years ago I wanted to get a far infra-red sauna but had no room for it and, frankly, couldn’t afford it. So I bought what’s called a bio-mat. It’s a space age technology embedded in a mat that charges my electrical field with far infra-red light and negative ions while I sleep . The original idea was to get rid of pain and inflammation, but now I sleep on it for the immune system boost and overall well being. At the expense of sounding like a circus hawker, I even became a distributor for them because I deeply appreciate what the mat does for Scott, me and my friends who also sleep on them. You can learn more at www.biomatheaven.com if you feel inclined. As wonderful as the mat is, it is a supplement to, and doesn’t replace, the natural elements spoken of earlier.

It’s not rocket science to know the status of our electrical health. The most important indicator is how we feel.  If we feel “drained”, our batteries are low and we had better give them a boost. If we feel “charged” we feel alive, like we can take on the world. The difference to our health is as obvious as waves crashing onto the shore versus a stagnant pond.

The best way to keep our energy topped up is simply to recognize our electrical nature; study up on it with books such as ‘The Body Electric’ by Robert O. Becker, M.D. and stick your finger into the electrical socket of the natural world around us.

I like saying Merry Christmas. It makes me feel happy and brings forth the scent of pine and cinnamon, cookies baking in the oven, family and friends. It’s a time to infuse light into the darkest days, which is a gift from it’s pagan, solstice oriented roots. But lately I’ve felt myself trip over the words in favor of the more socially correct Happy Holidays. How did a greeting indigenous to a country of people become political anyway? 

Though pagan in nature, Christmas has been so closely aligned with Christianity that there are those on Madison Avenue who create cultural impressions who do not wish such a mass celebration of either – other than to worship the retail involved. Pegged as Christian  in a nation of diversity, it has been labeled as exclusive in nature to deliver the familiar  words of the American holiday tradition – Merry Christmas. Never mind that only 3.5% of our country’s population is made up of Jews, Arabs and East Indians (Hindus) and a sizeable portion of them are secular. Buddhists are laid back and honor all religions so there are no protests there. So how did we get hoodwinked into relinquishing perhaps the merriest greeting of all?

I have been in a number of other countries during the Christmas season including Israel where we spent Christmas, Hanukkah and Hajj. No one adjusted their native greeting to accommodate a group of westerners and presumed Christians. Nor would we have expected them to. Yet, here in what has traditionally been a Christian, or at least Christmas, based culture, we are now expected to dim our sentiments down to accommodate a miniscule portion of the poulation. Personally, I don’t want to do it anymore. “Happy Holidays” stumbles from my lips, a lifeless and compromised offering to the season of joy.

So, here I am, past cultural correctness and back to my days of merriment happily offering my seasons greetings to anyone who resonates in turn – Merry Christmas to all!

I am thankful for the sun shining through the windows illuminating the pale yellow walls of our home in the country.

I am thankful that our mandarin orange orchard didn’t freeze last night as had been predicted.

I am thankful that I have a wonderful family and dear friends to celebrate this day with.

I am thankful to have a partner who works alongside me in putting our dream out into the world in a way that could not happen without him.

I am thankful for the unconditional love, silliness and joy of Angel and Finnbar, our two dogs.

I am thankful for all of the generosity of the earth and it’s people who cultivate the land for the beautiful, pungent spices wafting through the kitchen as my pumpkin pies bake.

I am thankful for each breath of fresh air and each swallow of cool and clean water as these have become luxuries that are unobtainable in some parts of the world.

I am thankful for the partnership I have with our ‘unseen helpers’ who make our days flow with relative ease.

I am thankful for you, our friends around the world, who have chosen to wake up to an astounding array of new realities. You are shining lights in this crazy world.

Happy Day of Giving Thanks no matter where you are in the world!