24 October 2015 0 Comments

The In and Out Vortex

This handout image released by NASA/JPL-Caltech/SSI on April 29, 2013 shows a false-color image from NASA's Cassini mission, of the spinning vortex of Saturn's north polar storm resembling a deep red rose of giant proportions surrounded by green foliage. Measurements have sized the eye at a staggering 1,250 miles (2,000 kilometers) across with cloud speeds as fast as 330 miles per hour (150 meters per second).    == RESTRICTED TO EDITORIAL USE / MANDATORY CREDIT: "AFP PHOTO / NASA/JPL-Caltech/SSI / NO MARKETING / NO ADVERTISING CAMPAIGNS / DISTRIBUTED AS A SERVICE TO CLIENTS ==HO/AFP/Getty Images ORG XMIT: -

Late last week, around the 12th of October, I received some information as I was trying to sleep. I usually know when something is up by the way I become agitated, tossing and turning in bed. It’s exhausting and usually the next day I am wiped out.

As to who gave me this info, I am not sure but I am thinking it is a toss up between Loekey, Tulack or Ellipsis. I think they all chipped in with this info only because I felt them contributing their viewpoints through out the night. To be clear I am passing on information, make of it what you will because I don’t want anyone saying that I am a fearmonger, scaring the pants off of people. Believe me; I have better things to do, so this is not why I am passing this info along. I hope to give people the heads up before they make their way camping or hiking, unaware of these hidden dangers.

The In and Out vortexes have dimensional qualities that make them elongated, stretching and connecting to the genetic make up of different beings, creatures and anomaly morphing energy. The vortexes themselves are sentient beings that connect into the consciousness of whatever crosses in and out of its energy field.

Around the time of the Civil war, the frequency within the battlefields changed because of the sheer number of fatalities and the emotional barrage of intense feelings left within the soil, trees and air. The bubble still felt today, is the remnants of this unnerving and disturbing frequency. Because of this, the earth had to make allowances for the dense emotions that lingered upon her. The haze of war always leaves surrounding areas polluted, with negative impressions and residual shadows replaying their tragic demise.

So what does the Civil war have to do with the vortex, you ask, it was the corrupted and abhorrence of brother against brother, the human slave, devalued and cut down to a nonexistent thing. Even in Nature, all animals large or small live within their purpose of a justified existence. The culpable mindset of human’s revulsion for each other became like a current of iniquity, a scourge that spread through the waters and seeds of future generations. The weight of such depravity weakened the veil that surrounded the earth, resulting in the sentient vortex to materialize bringing with it creatures that have not walked the earth before.

As a result, we have what Loekey calls, “Feeders” who are predator jumpers. They can materialize a vortex at will, opening and closing it anywhere they want, which is why they are so dangerous. The signs of these creatures and beings are deadzone areas that don’t allow much light in and they have a smell almost like a wet compost but smellier. The underlying mulch of decaying plants and insects is the unfortunate result of vortexes opening or closing. The In and Out vortex’s intense pulsating vibration, breaks down the plant and insect genetic codes. They basically fall apart and die.

As far as large animals and people, these creatures and beings leave no trace of bodies. They take their prey with them which is why it’s important to pay attention to the signs. The first is a wet and putrid compost smell. The second will be very few birds or animals in the area of this smell. The third sign is dead vegetation and trees. There is a smell that we can detect just before the vortexes open up. They told me the smell is like, either plastic burning or wires burning. If you smell this, get the heck out of there, basically run. They heed their own warnings, and they also try to stay clear of these vortexes themselves.

1 December 2014 0 Comments

Abductee/Contactee and their Empathic Abilities

empath image 2

By Michael
After 50 years in this amazing field we call UFOs and Paranormal, I have learned exceedingly cool stuff about humans and beings from other realities. It takes years to understand a very slight concept about dimensional beings but humans are easier to understand and all the elements that make them tick.
After hundreds of interviews with abductees there are some very interesting commonalities between many of them. One is the ability for them to be empathetic and feel people’s emotions. The question I have always asked is, are abductees born empathic with their abilities or are they given their abilities from their encounters with the dimensional beings?

I feel we all have the empathic ability, but only a few realize it. After interviewing hundreds of abductees, many realized their abilities after they knew they had had an encounter with another reality. I believe their encounters are triggering events, opening up many access points to the infinite universe.
Being an empath can be a dangerous business, if they are not careful they can absorb the emotions of hundreds of people just by walking through a Mall. This emotional over-load can throw an empath into a mental crisis and exhaust their bodies, driving the empath into a sleep response for several days. Empaths eventually learn to protect themselves from the flood of human energy by building empirical shields around their bodies.

Some empaths have the amazing ability to make contact with spirits. My partner is one of those people, she can walk into a cemetery and spirits will start communicating with her. When the emotional load becomes too much she must remove herself from the location to recover. She recently had a civil war cemetery experience in the Nashville area. This time she actually felt the physical pain of the soldier who had in theory died 150 years ago. But he was in a limbo reality, and she was able to observe the event. It was very powerful and profound.

Inter-dimensional beings seem not to carry or have many of their own emotions, they love empaths because not only can they feed off the empaths own emotions, but they get the bonus of the other emotions that are flowing through the empaths body from external sources. So triggering a human into becoming empathic is probably a high priority for the inter-dimensional beings.

Sleep- tight , Being empathic – is like looking at glass humans – you get to see everything that makes them tick – but only by controlling the experience with care can you gain wisdom and not madness.

7 November 2014 0 Comments

The Spirits of McGavock Confederate Cemetery

Carnton plantation 2

This is a fitting story to share with all of you during Fall and the beginning of Winter. It’s a new tale, fresh with a mixed brew of emotions and haunting whispers. It is one story I thought I would never tell only because my experiences with ghosts have never been with the Civil War, only the old west towns of my home state, New Mexico and those along my travels as a cowgirl.

Sometimes spirits reach out to those who can feel them, hear them and relay the replays of life that went on years past. They whisper the echoes of torment, languishing pain and the truth of how death does not end their soul’s convictions…it only prolongs the outcome of their inevitable actions, if such have the fallacy of intolerance.

What wayward souls can not comprehend, they cannot see and because of this, they cannot rest.

With this being said, I will now share with you the story of my travels with my sister Holly, to Carnton Plantation just a few minutes from Franklin, Tennessee where the Battle of Franklin took place in November 30, 1864.

Just a mere two weeks ago, I went to Nashville to visit my sister and to enjoy the southern hospitality she is known for. My sister is a fabulous cook, the hostess with the mostess in all aspects of making anyone feel right at home. The area where she lives is not too far from the town of Franklin, a place that oozes with the shadowy memoirs of a sorrowful past. I realized the moment Holly took me through this beautiful town; I was literally thrust back in time, no time machine needed here because the surroundings emulated old Southern pride. It’s a déjà vu kind of feeling but as a Yankee, it felt a little unnerving. The architecture through out the town with the churches and homes held within their walls the echoes of people running, yelling, and the distant thunder of gun fire. It was still in the air and I could feel the emotions with every fiber of my being. Holly and I are empaths, we feel places and with this ability we can smell the flowery aromas of perfume or the trepidation and stench of death. This ability is in our family, it’s in our blood.

The day after traveling through the striking town of Franklin, Holly somehow without forethought but I’m pretty sure, pure intuition, drove right by the Carnton Plantation as if planned and on queue. She said she had never been there before and was quite surprised to have driven by there on our way to another plantation. We decided immediately that we were destined to go to this one instead. The land seemed to whisper secrets through the car windows to us and then there seemed to be an urgency to our summoning. As Holly turned the car around, we almost went down a one way road the wrong way. It was a bit confusing at first but interestingly enough that confusion never left us even as we drove up the one lane road. We could see that this plantation was not only massive but obviously an important historical landmark. As we drove into the parking lot, the house sat back behind what looked like a large barn and to our right was a cemetery that had huge headstones peaking out from the iron fence.

With my persuasion, we first went to the cemetery because it was up on a hill and I wanted to look around and see the vast green land that encircled the cemetery. Holly stated she had reservations about entering the cemetery but like a trouper, she ventured forward with me. There seemed to be an odd feeling that almost felt like we had walked into a bubble or a time warp from the past. The air was different, birds crowed and yelled down at us and we both felt the immediate sense of sadness and the traumatic demise of all the soldiers within the cemetery. There are nearly 1,500 Confederate soldiers buried at the cemetery who were casualties of the Battle of Franklin. Carrie Winder McGavock was in charge of the soldiers brought to Carnton which was to become the largest field hospital in the area for the wounded. There were at least 150 Confederate soldiers who died that first night at Carnton from the battle. There are still blood stains on the floorboards of the main house to this day.

When we entered the cemetery none of this information was known to us. We understood the severity of what all the men had gone through because we could feel it in our bones. It was with this emotion, this connection that the first communication with some of the spirits of the cemetery started to happen.

I heard a mans voice say softly to me, “How is Elizabeth?”

Wait a minute; I went…no, he said Lizbett. I thought I must have gotten the name wrong but when he said it again, he said it more forcefully and I knew for sure he was saying the name Lizbett. I told him I was sorry that I didn’t know her. I asked my sister if that was a Southern name and she said she thought so.

We walked through the main entrance and Holly said she didn’t feel right, she almost felt like she didn’t want to go forward. I had trepidations myself but I walked a little ways past the family gravestones to the entrance to where the Confederate soldiers were buried. Holly walked with me and we immediately stepped to our left, looking at the first of granite markers. We saw two copper pennies on top of two markers and we both wondered what the significance of that was. It was at this very moment that a young mans voice came to me, talking in my right ear and in my head, stating that he had died of a gun shot wound and he wanted to show me where he was shot. I didn’t want to know but he didn’t let up and upon hearing him say, “I got shot in my stomach,” I felt the first stinging pains in my own stomach right where my belly button is. I told Holly my stomach hurt and when we turned to face the dirt path that went down the middle of the markers, we did an about face and left the cemetery. It was just too much.

This young soldier would not let up. It was imperative for him that he tell me what happened to him. I finally acquiesced, letting him know I would listen.

He started from the moment he was shot. He said he was down for about an hour. It hurt like hell and he didn’t think at the time it was something he would die from. He knew men were down around him but he thought if he could get help, he would be alright.

He knew he was bleeding out and he tried to calm himself down waiting for help to come. He was only 19 or maybe 20, young, full of hope, not really understanding the gravity of his situation. When help did arrive, he felt he would be taken on a stretcher and he would live to fight another day. There were three men, two carrying a stretcher and the other man checking wounds. They talked to him for a few minutes, looked at his wound and with grave faces told him there was nothing they could do for him. They were under orders to take and carry only those wounded that could be saved. They gave him his death sentence. He never saw it coming just like he never saw the bullet that hit him. He said he lay there for about three to four hours before he died. He couldn’t believe they left him and for him, the fact they did leave him was worse then getting shot. He felt alone when he died. I think this is why sometimes he’s not sure he’s dead. His memory stays within the confines of the bullet that brought him down. It’s an eternal pain that he shared with me, not just a physical one.

Carnton Plantation

By the time he finished telling me his story, my stomach was burning and I felt as if my insides were on fire. The pressure on my stomach was intense; it was as if I literally had an opening gash that was bleeding out.

Holly and I entered the gift shop by the barn area and when we walked in, we both thought for a minute we might fall down from weak and shaky legs. I couldn’t really focus on any one item except for a book on Carnton. I felt like I should buy it but for some reason I didn’t. We decided to make a hasty departure to the car because neither one of us was feeling or doing well. I was bent over at this point from the pain in my stomach and Holly had a headache that was growing in intensity by the minute. The Carnton house was out of the question. Neither of us wanted to take the tour.

As I climbed into the car, from my right ear, I distinctly heard an angry male voice that seemed to be in his mid 40s to early 50’s. Discretion Advised! (Please understand that this is what I heard and not how I talk. I debated whether I should state what I heard and I feel it’s only right to write exactly what I heard.)

He said, “God Damn (N word)! Nobody is gonna tell me what I do with my property!”

I said, “Oh my God, Holly, you won’t believe what I just heard.” I then proceeded to tell her, word for word. She shook her head and said it was time for us to go. I was in shock and couldn’t believe the intense animosity coming from the male voice who spoke in my right ear. That kind of talk is just plain wrong and I found myself feeling disgusted at hearing it.

Holly drove down the one lane road exiting the plantation and it wasn’t until we were on the main road and driving away that we both started to feel better. For a minute we just looked at each other. Words were beyond us.

As a woman of the west, I must admit that I came back home with a tangled web of emotions. I had no idea the Civil War was fought in so many areas where my sister lives. I had no idea the mindset of the South lives on. Most of all, I had no idea how sad I would feel about the loss of life. It’s an intense feeling of sorrow with a raw edginess to it.

There is one thing for sure that I do know and that is that death makes every man and every woman equal because in the eyes of death,our humanity is all the same. What makes us individuals is our sense of self when we die. For these men of the Franklin Battle, they were comrades in arms and I think it’s this unity that keeps them there. They stay because of each other and they stay because in the end, they don’t seem to know the Battle of Franklin is over.