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Coming Home to Egypt

      The Unexpected Adventure

My adventure to Egypt changed my life forever. Sometimes lessons are learned when we least expect them or when we aren’t looking for them at all. With this being said, this is my story of the unexpected adventure that turned my life topsy turvy into the realm of the Priestess.   

      Egypt is the mysterious Mistress of magic and ancient knowledge. She’s the elixir of times not forgotten but kept secret behind closed doors surrounded by sand and desert. Moments in our lives come and go but the memories linger on beyond our lifetime into the next, just as the sands in an hourglass turn over and over again.  

     I realized the moment I stepped foot on Egypt’s ancient sands, I had truly for the first time in my life, come home. The Priestess in me awakened to the sounds of morning prayer and the belly dancer’s drums, summoning a night of dance. My soul shouted in delight and my spiritual quest began with a vengeance that was foreign and scary all at the same time. It was the first time I was in the presence of Source, the old ways, or as some call them, the Ancient Aliens. 

     As a dancer, yes, I was in my element but as a Medicine Woman, in some ways, I was in way over my head. Let me explain. 

     Before I ventured to Cairo, Egypt in 1991, I was told by two of my mentors that Egypt could be dangerous for me because I was open, meaning I was already learning the old ways of ceremony and prayer. As a young Medicine Woman, there were things I was already experiencing that were a bit dark so my teachers stressed that I rethink my plans. The 28-year-old in me didn’t listen and to this day I am forever grateful to her that she didn’t but that doesn’t mean they weren’t right. 

     My ex-husband, a medicine man named Thunder Bow gave me an amulet to wear to keep me safe and a friend made me a small hand made knife that I hid in my boot in case I needed to protect myself. But how does one protect themselves from an archaic and highly intelligent Source that has been around since the beginning of time? I sensed “them” before I stepped aboard my plane and they made their presence known in subtle ways such as nonsensical dreams and knots in my stomach that seemed to never go away. 

     My trip started out as a belly dancer’s dream but in actuality, it was a coming home to my Priestess roots.  I didn’t know beforehand that I had been a Priestess many lifetimes in Egypt. Past life memories came back to me in vivid dreams, vibrant and emotionally riveting. They came non-stop, a young girl of 14 or a boy of 10 at first. Then my memories flashed and changed to me being a woman of high importance, priestesses surrounding me in the moonlight and a ceremony being performed to the Goddess Isis. Some of the past lives were in interesting times, such as the upheaval of Akhenaten’s priests fighting with soldiers and overtaking the inner sanctum of one of the pyramids. The vengeance of the old Gods was terrifying!  I had a flashback of Tutankhamen coming to Luxor for the Sham el Nessim celebration. I was shocked and in awe as these memories flooded into my waking state. It was as if I never left. 

     I was remembering so much so that I sensed someone or something was not happy that my memories were coming back. Throughout the many months I was in Egypt, 2 attempts were made on my life and the third and last attempt which happened back in New Mexico, almost succeeded. 

Double Trouble

     The first attempt happened one morning when I was visiting an indoor market underneath an apartment complex. It was probably 20 stories high in a crowded area by Maadi a suburb of Cairo. I had walked in for some groceries and when I bought all I needed, I walked back out into the street. Within seconds, a woman suddenly yelled at me in English, “Watch out!”

     An area rug about 10 feet long came crashing down, barely missing me by a few feet. If I hadn’t jumped back, I don’t think I would be telling this story. My legs became weak and I felt as if they were going to collapse under me. I was in utter shock when people came running over to me from all directions. Everyone was asking me if I was okay while I looked up, seeing multiple balconies but no sign of where the rug came from. I pushed my way through the crowd and walked away with shaky legs and somewhere inside of me, I sensed that was a warning. 

     Later that day in the afternoon, I was walking down a street by the little apartment I rented. I was weary but had calmed myself down from the morning’s close call.  The butterflies in my stomach had just left me and I was feeling more assured that it was just a coincidence when all of a sudden, a white van full of people came rushing up behind me and hit me from my left side. My left elbow saved my life because it made me bounce off the van. If I hadn’t bounced off the van, I would have been knocked under it and it’s back wheel would have run me over.  It all happened so fast, seemingly in a split second, within a blink of an eye. 

     I yelled at the driver who stopped the van and again people came running towards me to see if I was okay. I looked at the driver and yelled, “Majnoon!” which means crazy in Arabic. The driver had a strange look on his face as he tried to calm me and the crowd down. People were yelling at him and I realized that if I didn’t leave it would have turned into a chaotic scene. I left the crowd, went to my apartment and realized something was either trying to kill me or get my attention. 

     The bruise on my arm was only the beginning.

Paralysis

     The nights were alive with magical scents such as jasmine and other flowering smells that will forever stay with me. But within all of this enchantment there was always a reminder that this is where time truly began, and if I forgot to remember where I was, the ominous silent night constantly reminded me that there were hidden eyes watching … always.  

     I awoke one night with startled and panicky breathing, like I had been running in my sleep. I was on my stomach with my head turned which wasn’t my normal position because I’m a side sleeper. I realized immediately that I was completely paralyzed accept for my eyes. I was panning the room trying to figure out what to do. I felt pressure on my lower back as if something was holding me down. I tried to turn around but to no avail. I thought I had come down with some weird disease and I started to panic and perspire from my adrenaline and fear kicking in. I was literally wet from head to toe like I had just stepped out of a shower. 

     I remembered, Thunder Bow teaching me how to focus so I could calm my mind. I knew it was just a matter of remembering where my inner sanctuary was, so I closed my eyes and tried to push off whatever was holding me down. It felt like an eternity but in reality, it was only 10 minutes or a little more to fixate on my 3rd Eye. When I was able to calm myself down, I felt the pressure on my lower back instantly disappear and I turned over literally overcome with relief, and within seconds, I jumped out of bed. I looked all around the room trying to figure out what had just happened and what could have possibly held me down. 

     I had a hard time going back to sleep but slowly I drifted off and awoke the next morning sore all over, especially in my lower back. I got up and checked my lower back in the mirror and saw about 5 or 6 small brown circles, like burn marks on me scattered around within a 6-inch area. They didn’t hurt at all and within 2 or 3 days, they were gone. 

Missing Time

    I became friends with a guy I’ll call Jimbo. We were hanging out at a club called Club Thirteen. Out of the blue, Jimbo asked me if I wanted to climb one of the Queen’s Pyramids. Now, it’s forbidden so I don’t recommend anyone doing it but at that time in the early 90’s, they didn’t have as much security around the pyramids as they do now. It was around 12:30 am so I was intrigued and said yes. We hailed a taxi and within 30 minutes we were in an area just below the Queens Pyramids. We got off in this location so we could go in a back way where we wouldn’t be seen. We walked by old burial chambers dug in the side of rocks of the workers who supposedly built the pyramids or so the story goes. It was eerie and I could almost hear them whispering to us, asking us what we were doing there. 

     Once we walked past the burial chambers which took about 20 or 30 minutes, we found ourselves at the foot of one of the Queen’s Pyramids. I can’t remember which one but it was at night and I was a willing participant partially because I knew it was taboo.  Jimbo asked me if I was sure I wanted to climb up and I said, “Absolutely!”

     We started our climb and within a short time, we were at the top. I remember clearly the mosquitos, millions or should I say billions of them buzzing around us! I mentioned to Jimbo that I just couldn’t take the mosquitos anymore when all of a sudden, puff, we were gone and then back again! It was like a time glitch had just happened. When we came to, and it was around 6 am because we could hear the morning prayer on all the loudspeakers throughout Cairo. It was eerie to “wake up” to that sound and realize that we had been up there for a long time, at least 2 to 3 hours with no memory of what happened. Interestingly enough, I had no mosquito bites on me at all!

     We climbed down the pyramid freaking out that we would be discovered and made a mad dash back towards the small village. We hailed a cab and went to get coffee and breakfast. I was a chatty Kathy and Jimbo was silent and moody. No matter how much I prodded him, he wouldn’t talk about what had just happened to us and after that incident, he never wanted to go out or do anything with me again. 

     Was the paralysis and the missing time connected? I can’t be certain but I have come to realize that with magic and mystery, nothing is a coincidence. 

      The third attempt on my life happened when I came home.  

Uninvited Guest

     I’m 5’3, but at that time, I weighed only a hundred pounds when I finally arrived home and my feet touched the New Mexico ground.  I was exhausted and tired beyond belief. Interestingly, I ate like a horse and never felt full. I ate as carefully as I could in Egypt so I didn’t venture out into the odd and weird world of exotic foods. I know what you may be thinking, parasites and that was exactly what my family and me thought too but when I went to the doctor, he tested me for a variety of parasites, but didn’t find anything.  

     I was slowly dying and my ex-husband knew it. He saw a dark, black mass attached to me from my upper right shoulder. I felt off balance and I was walking as if I had injured my back. 

     Thunder Bow took  me to another medicine man named Thomas One Wolf. When I went to meet with him, he sensed that something came back home with me. He told me I had to do a Vision Quest and with his help, he would take care of the “uninvited guest.” 

     I made sacred tobacco pouches, praying and asking for help as I made each one of them, connecting them together making a circle with twine. They closed me off to the outside world during my Vision Quest so that I could find answers and “see” what this thing was. Three days and three nights became a blur. I mostly remember that I laid in the sun during the day and crawled into my tent at night. I knew instinctively that the sun was going to help heal me. I could feel it’s warmth and somehow I felt its rays go into me, pulsing, targeting this dark mass attached to me. Thomas One Wolf, came and went as if he was a dream, praying and doing ceremony, asking the Ancestors to help.  The moment the entity let go of me, I felt as if a ton of bricks had been lifted off of me. I felt light as a feather, light headed and I had to learn to rebalance myself so that I could realign my back and straighten it out. I was no longer hunched back, carrying a weight that was not mine.   

     Thomas One Wolf said I had only a few months to live when I came to him and that this thing was feeding off my life force. He said it knew I was a medicine woman in this life and that it saw my  past lives in Egypt. It was connected to the Djinn and I was lucky I remembered to go to the sun God Ra to help me get rid of it. 

     The priestess in me came alive and helped me heal and it was with this remembering that my greatest lesson was learned. I brought the memories back to New Mexico with me and with the help of Thomas One Wolf was able to get rid of the attachment. 

     Egypt is a portal to other worlds that have been apart of our world for a millennium.  Did the Ancient Aliens take me somewhere during my lost time on top of the pyramid? How did that black mass find me? Even today, I know something was altered in me during that lost time. 

    Most importantly, and probably the greatest gift of all, is the fact that all those past lives in Egypt are alive and in me and they are apart of the medicine woman that I am today. Magic is real and when you become apart of it, it lives on in you, reminding you, you are so much more than you think you are. It’s going to sound cliche but to boldly go where no man or woman has gone before, one only has to go to Egypt. There’s no place like home no matter how many life times we live. 

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Human or Alien – who can you trust?

As I have said before I have been a UFO/ Paranormal researcher for 50 years. In those 50 years I had encountered some pretty scary stuff, including my experience with a few alien and Cryptid beings. But here we are in a world where the human condition is getting worse very much by the minute.

Wow, presidential politics is at an all-time low, number of wars around the world around the world at an all-time –high, strange new emerging diseases, man driven climate change, and out of control human population growth. The wealth gaps between groups and between countries, is the greatest in the last 100 years. Now very recently something I warned about 10 years ago is coming true, our reliance on the Internet could drive us to a Mad Max scenario. Human hackers could shut the world down and it could be any minute. Not to mention madmen with their fingers on the nukes. It’s a sad state of affairs for our species.

Now what about the Aliens and the Cryptids, both groups if they truly wanted to could end our existence in a quick minute. I believe the Cryptids – such as Sasquatch and Dogman just want to be left alone. The aliens say the Pleadians and the Greys have an agenda for sure, but with us humans especially our leaders and wannabee leaders, generally being extremely distrustful and sick for power, and with no consideration for human life, looking at Alien group is a viable option. I believe it is time to seriously engage these alien groups we have been fearful of. For man is driving itself down a very dark path, a path of no return.

The question is, what would we have to give up to save our species? They have been abducting people for a very long time and the question is, is their agenda going down a brighter path for the human race? We have to continue our quest to make real serious contact with these beings and look at all options if we want to survive the next 100 years because the cards truly stacked against us.

Sleep tight – mediate , mediate and carefully open up, step forward to meet the Ones who have the ability and power to save our species and maybe we are worthy of their trust, at least the ones among us that care.

Mike Wiz

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My Life Manifesto — Sandy Penny

SandyPennyMy Life Manifesto
by Sandy Penny, 2-2-2015

I never wanted to compete with others, only with myself. Even as a child, I wanted to create cooperation, not competition. Growing up with nine brothers and sisters was competition enough. I wanted to learn something new every day, and I have. I have always strived to be better at the things I choose to do, to improve processes, to innovate, to organize. I have always endeavored to leave a job better than I found it. I subscribed to the old adage, if a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing well. I intend each day to ask myself if I’m living from love or fear, and to always choose love.

I hope, when I leave this world, that I have had a positive impact on those I’ve known, and that I have done as little harm as is humanly possible. I intend, every day, as Ghandi advised, to be the love I want to see in the world, to treat others with kindness, compassion and respect. I intend to leave every person with whom I interact feeling better than when we met, without attachment and expectations. If one person has been helped by me, if I have lifted anyone’s suffering, made anyone smile, then I have lived a life worth living. And, for myself, I want only to be the highest and best expression my soul intends for my earthly life, knowing that when I leave this world, I feel complete with each and every sacred relationship I forged, and every relationship is sacred.

I commit to using and fulfilling the purpose of each chakra, each energy center within me, to express the colors of the rainbow that is me. I open myself to the golden connection that is my crown chakra, that I may bring more spirit into matter. I connect with the source of all light and open my inner and outer vision that I may see myself, others, my life, and the world clearly and through the love that manifests all creation. I connect with the source of all words and align my voice with the voice of love and joy. I align my mind with the universal consciousness that I may raise my thoughts to higher realms and transcend all negativity of the human consciousness, that I may think in more creative ways, that I may inspire higher thinking through all that I touch, that I may express right thought, right speech and right action for each and every situation I encounter, that I may share wisdom when needed. I clarify and align my feelings and emotions with unconditional love that I may create sacred partnerships throughout my life, knowing that all relationships are sacred and deserve love and compassion. I align and restore my physical body to the perfection in which it was created that I may walk this earth, strong and healthy, and follow my own path on my own journey of spirit flowing into matter and matter returning to spirit, a conduit of love, light, joy and completion.

As I awoke this morning, these thoughts were running through me, and I wanted to write them down, to remind myself that this is my life creed, and that I intend to live it fully, and I am. I am a spark of infinite love emanating from the unlimited stream of love divine. I am a bubbling spring of joy and wisdom to quench the thirst of all who drink it in. As I intend, so shall it be, for intention inspires action, and action creates and manifests. I am creator, manifestor and the artist of my own life.

Divine love, through me, blesses and multiplies all the good I am, all the good I have, and all the good I share. And so it is, and I am grateful.

Posted by Sandy Penny at 12:32 PM

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Todd Michael Visits The NM UFO/ Paranormal Forum – Is it all True Series #273

Interdimensional_worlds_500Todd

This March the Forum here in Albuquerque hosted a wonderful speaker named Todd Michael. Personally, I feel he did some of the best tying together of the worlds of UFOs, paranormal, and the human race. He had an interesting style of presentation–comforting and peaceful, and his talk resonated with me and many others.

In 2005, Todd had a spiritual awakening that started as a homeless vision quest in Malibu, CA, when he had no money and just a car to sleep in. He began having conversations and relationships with other beings. His encounters became encounters of the close kind. These were life-changing experiences. Todd developed his 8 senses – 4 more than most people believe exists. He developed the ability to shift-shape. He has become an amazing manifester. He believes you have to ask to receive and that includes alien contact. According to Todd, there are many of them out there that want to meet us. There were times when he had 3 to 5 visits per week.

Todd talked about breaking the patterns of our present life to experience a different happier world. Along with that, he spoke of the year 2016, which he said was going to be a year of great profound change. Todd discussed his experiences with a great Bigfoot researcher named Kewaunee. He talked about how a Bigfoot touched him through his tent on Kewaunee’s property in Washington. Then there was the Ancient One encounter he witnessed, the most unique Bigfoot–like being.

Todd demonstrated something quite special that he has never had a bad experience with any of the non-human beings. And finally his story about when he shape-shifted into a whale to help rescue the two stranded whales in Sacramento River in California tugged at your heart.

Sleep Tight – From Todd – (Use with caution): So-Lin-so-La-Ra –say three times with LOVE and they will come.
MWiz.

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The Al Bielek Meeting and the Jump Room– Is it all True Series #270

About 5 years ago, I was sitting in the living room across from a guy named Al Bielek. Yes, the Al Bielek, the guy they call the “walking encyclopedia”. And he was that. Al and his stepbrother, Duncan Cameron, were part of the Philadelphia Experiment and the even stranger reality called the Montauk Project. Al would answer any question under the sun and stars, including but limited to, is there or was there life on Mars. Well that question, which I did ask, started us on the journey through and around the world of Jump Rooms.

At that point I had never heard of Jump Rooms, thought it was just crazy talk. But Al was very convincing that the US Military had obtained the technology from off of a crashed alien ship. Our government had reversed engineered the room; it was a room that looked more like an elevator. And like an elevator it took you from point A to point B, but A to B was across million of miles in the matter of minutes. He explained the probes we sent in the past to Mars were sent just to set up a Jump Room on Mars as you need one on both ends of the transport. The US had been working on the project for over 70 years, since any reverse engineering project is a slow tedious process. Also rumored is that some of the original work was done with the help of the Nazis who would come ashore from their subs at Montauk Point and enter Camp Hero.

Camp hero also housed the famous time machine that Al Bielek’s stepbrother Duncan would travel in, so the story goes. One of the most amazing things Al said about the Jump Rooms was that human mind- consciousness ended up being the power behind the Jump Rooms, and the structures called Jump Rooms were places to sort of mediate your way through space. Al also said something like Jump Rooms were targeting locations to send and receive the conscious impulse. Wow—crazy talk (?)

Sleep Tight, your mind will and can transport you; it is a powerful vehicle.
MWiz.

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Why Personal Contact is Right for 2013 – Is it all True Series # 267

This is our year, 2013, to make our personal contact with some group of interdimensional beings. It’s our year because the earth as we know it is changing rapidly before our eyes and the vast majority doesn’t realize what they see. The future will change in every way. As I have said in past postings the horse is out of the barn with the rest of the animals and the barn just burned to the ground. The bottom line is there is no fixing our climate disaster, we can only prepare.

Once you personally come to grips with that concept, (and please do your own research) you will be ready to make contact. In reality, fear is the only thing that keeps from making contact with these beings.
So if you can come to peace with our not-so-happy future, which probably includes total or near extinction of the human race by or before 2100, then and only then will you be ready for your personal contact with them. You will be at peace and fearless and accepting of what is to come.

I believe they (non humans) have known for many years that man would finally destroy himself, through all the vices humans had at their disposal. I also believe the beings probably could have forced us to stop our destruction several hundred years ago, but earth is a big classroom; we’re here to try to learn how to peacefully co-exist with them and the vehicle we ride through space. As we will all realize shortly, we all failed the class. But the hope will be that we take from this failure some wisdom and on our next adventure, get a little closer to the truth, and do a lot better on New Earth.

If you sit in fearless peace they will come; they are not like angels or demons. They are nothing we have ever perceived. They have always been in our minds and our hearts, waiting for this day. And our lack of fear will allow us to pass into their world, until our New Earth is ready for our return.

Sleep tight – dream hard, the challenges going forward will be great, but our ending / new beginning will be bright.
MWiz

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I didn't know him – but he was worth knowing— Steve Job's sister and her eulogy to him — There is a Connection— .

A Sister’s Eulogy for Steve Jobs
By MONA SIMPSON from the New York Times

I grew up as an only child, with a single mother. Because we were poor and because I knew my father had emigrated from Syria, I imagined he looked like Omar Sharif. I hoped he would be rich and kind and would come into our lives (and our not yet furnished apartment) and help us. Later, after I’d met my father, I tried to believe he’d changed his number and left no forwarding address because he was an idealistic revolutionary, plotting a new world for the Arab people.
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Opinion: The Genius of Jobs (October 30, 2011)
Even as a feminist, my whole life I’d been waiting for a man to love, who could love me. For decades, I’d thought that man would be my father. When I was 25, I met that man and he was my brother.

By then, I lived in New York, where I was trying to write my first novel. I had a job at a small magazine in an office the size of a closet, with three other aspiring writers. When one day a lawyer called me — me, the middle-class girl from California who hassled the boss to buy us health insurance — and said his client was rich and famous and was my long-lost brother, the young editors went wild. This was 1985 and we worked at a cutting-edge literary magazine, but I’d fallen into the plot of a Dickens novel and really, we all loved those best. The lawyer refused to tell me my brother’s name and my colleagues started a betting pool. The leading candidate: John Travolta. I secretly hoped for a literary descendant of Henry James — someone more talented than I, someone brilliant without even trying.

When I met Steve, he was a guy my age in jeans, Arab- or Jewish-looking and handsomer than Omar Sharif.

We took a long walk — something, it happened, that we both liked to do. I don’t remember much of what we said that first day, only that he felt like someone I’d pick to be a friend. He explained that he worked in computers.

I didn’t know much about computers. I still worked on a manual Olivetti typewriter.

I told Steve I’d recently considered my first purchase of a computer: something called the Cromemco.

Steve told me it was a good thing I’d waited. He said he was making something that was going to be insanely beautiful.

I want to tell you a few things I learned from Steve, during three distinct periods, over the 27 years I knew him. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. His full life. His illness. His dying.

Steve worked at what he loved. He worked really hard. Every day.

That’s incredibly simple, but true.

He was the opposite of absent-minded.

He was never embarrassed about working hard, even if the results were failures. If someone as smart as Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit trying, maybe I didn’t have to be.

When he got kicked out of Apple, things were painful. He told me about a dinner at which 500 Silicon Valley leaders met the then-sitting president. Steve hadn’t been invited.

He was hurt but he still went to work at Next. Every single day.

Novelty was not Steve’s highest value. Beauty was.

For an innovator, Steve was remarkably loyal. If he loved a shirt, he’d order 10 or 100 of them. In the Palo Alto house, there are probably enough black cotton turtlenecks for everyone in this church.

He didn’t favor trends or gimmicks. He liked people his own age.

His philosophy of aesthetics reminds me of a quote that went something like this: “Fashion is what seems beautiful now but looks ugly later; art can be ugly at first but it becomes beautiful later.”

Steve always aspired to make beautiful later.

He was willing to be misunderstood.

Uninvited to the ball, he drove the third or fourth iteration of his same black sports car to Next, where he and his team were quietly inventing the platform on which Tim Berners-Lee would write the program for the World Wide Web.Steve was like a girl in the amount of time he spent talking about love. Love was his supreme virtue, his god of gods. He tracked and worried about the romantic lives of the people working with him.
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Opinion: The Genius of Jobs (October 30, 2011)
Whenever he saw a man he thought a woman might find dashing, he called out, “Hey are you single? Do you wanna come to dinner with my sister?”

I remember when he phoned the day he met Laurene. “There’s this beautiful woman and she’s really smart and she has this dog and I’m going to marry her.”

When Reed was born, he began gushing and never stopped. He was a physical dad, with each of his children. He fretted over Lisa’s boyfriends and Erin’s travel and skirt lengths and Eve’s safety around the horses she adored.

None of us who attended Reed’s graduation party will ever forget the scene of Reed and Steve slow dancing.

His abiding love for Laurene sustained him. He believed that love happened all the time, everywhere. In that most important way, Steve was never ironic, never cynical, never pessimistic. I try to learn from that, still.

Steve had been successful at a young age, and he felt that had isolated him. Most of the choices he made from the time I knew him were designed to dissolve the walls around him. A middle-class boy from Los Altos, he fell in love with a middle-class girl from New Jersey. It was important to both of them to raise Lisa, Reed, Erin and Eve as grounded, normal children. Their house didn’t intimidate with art or polish; in fact, for many of the first years I knew Steve and Lo together, dinner was served on the grass, and sometimes consisted of just one vegetable. Lots of that one vegetable. But one. Broccoli. In season. Simply prepared. With just the right, recently snipped, herb.

Even as a young millionaire, Steve always picked me up at the airport. He’d be standing there in his jeans.

When a family member called him at work, his secretary Linetta answered, “Your dad’s in a meeting. Would you like me to interrupt him?”

When Reed insisted on dressing up as a witch every Halloween, Steve, Laurene, Erin and Eve all went wiccan.

They once embarked on a kitchen remodel; it took years. They cooked on a hotplate in the garage. The Pixar building, under construction during the same period, finished in half the time. And that was it for the Palo Alto house. The bathrooms stayed old. But — and this was a crucial distinction — it had been a great house to start with; Steve saw to that.

This is not to say that he didn’t enjoy his success: he enjoyed his success a lot, just minus a few zeros. He told me how much he loved going to the Palo Alto bike store and gleefully realizing he could afford to buy the best bike there.

And he did.

Steve was humble. Steve liked to keep learning.

Once, he told me if he’d grown up differently, he might have become a mathematician. He spoke reverently about colleges and loved walking around the Stanford campus. In the last year of his life, he studied a book of paintings by Mark Rothko, an artist he hadn’t known about before, thinking of what could inspire people on the walls of a future Apple campus.

Steve cultivated whimsy. What other C.E.O. knows the history of English and Chinese tea roses and has a favorite David Austin rose?

He had surprises tucked in all his pockets. I’ll venture that Laurene will discover treats — songs he loved, a poem he cut out and put in a drawer — even after 20 years of an exceptionally close marriage. I spoke to him every other day or so, but when I opened The New York Times and saw a feature on the company’s patents, I was still surprised and delighted to see a sketch for a perfect staircase.

With his four children, with his wife, with all of us, Steve had a lot of fun.

He treasured happiness.Then, Steve became ill and we watched his life compress into a smaller circle. Once, he’d loved walking through Paris. He’d discovered a small handmade soba shop in Kyoto. He downhill skied gracefully. He cross-country skied clumsily. No more.
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Eventually, even ordinary pleasures, like a good peach, no longer appealed to him.

Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from his illness, was how much was still left after so much had been taken away.

I remember my brother learning to walk again, with a chair. After his liver transplant, once a day he would get up on legs that seemed too thin to bear him, arms pitched to the chair back. He’d push that chair down the Memphis hospital corridor towards the nursing station and then he’d sit down on the chair, rest, turn around and walk back again. He counted his steps and, each day, pressed a little farther.

Laurene got down on her knees and looked into his eyes.

“You can do this, Steve,” she said. His eyes widened. His lips pressed into each other.

He tried. He always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. He was an intensely emotional man.

I realized during that terrifying time that Steve was not enduring the pain for himself. He set destinations: his son Reed’s graduation from high school, his daughter Erin’s trip to Kyoto, the launching of a boat he was building on which he planned to take his family around the world and where he hoped he and Laurene would someday retire.

Even ill, his taste, his discrimination and his judgment held. He went through 67 nurses before finding kindred spirits and then he completely trusted the three who stayed with him to the end. Tracy. Arturo. Elham.

One time when Steve had contracted a tenacious pneumonia his doctor forbid everything — even ice. We were in a standard I.C.U. unit. Steve, who generally disliked cutting in line or dropping his own name, confessed that this once, he’d like to be treated a little specially.

I told him: Steve, this is special treatment.

He leaned over to me, and said: “I want it to be a little more special.”

Intubated, when he couldn’t talk, he asked for a notepad. He sketched devices to hold an iPad in a hospital bed. He designed new fluid monitors and x-ray equipment. He redrew that not-quite-special-enough hospital unit. And every time his wife walked into the room, I watched his smile remake itself on his face.

For the really big, big things, you have to trust me, he wrote on his sketchpad. He looked up. You have to.

By that, he meant that we should disobey the doctors and give him a piece of ice.

None of us knows for certain how long we’ll be here. On Steve’s better days, even in the last year, he embarked upon projects and elicited promises from his friends at Apple to finish them. Some boat builders in the Netherlands have a gorgeous stainless steel hull ready to be covered with the finishing wood. His three daughters remain unmarried, his two youngest still girls, and he’d wanted to walk them down the aisle as he’d walked me the day of my wedding.

We all — in the end — die in medias res. In the middle of a story. Of many stories.

I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer for years unexpected, but Steve’s death was unexpected for us.

What I learned from my brother’s death was that character is essential: What he was, was how he died.

Tuesday morning, he called me to ask me to hurry up to Palo Alto. His tone was affectionate, dear, loving, but like someone whose luggage was already strapped onto the vehicle, who was already on the beginning of his journey, even as he was sorry, truly deeply sorry, to be leaving us.

He started his farewell and I stopped him. I said, “Wait. I’m coming. I’m in a taxi to the airport. I’ll be there.”

“I’m telling you now because I’m afraid you won’t make it on time, honey.”

When I arrived, he and his Laurene were joking together like partners who’d lived and worked together every day of their lives. He looked into his children’s eyes as if he couldn’t unlock his gaze.

Until about 2 in the afternoon, his wife could rouse him, to talk to his friends from Apple.

Then, after awhile, it was clear that he would no longer wake to us.

His breathing changed. It became severe, deliberate, purposeful. I could feel him counting his steps again, pushing farther than before.

This is what I learned: he was working at this, too. Death didn’t happen to Steve, he achieved it.

He told me, when he was saying goodbye and telling me he was sorry, so sorry we wouldn’t be able to be old together as we’d always planned, that he was going to a better place.

Dr. Fischer gave him a 50/50 chance of making it through the night.

He made it through the night, Laurene next to him on the bed sometimes jerked up when there was a longer pause between his breaths. She and I looked at each other, then he would heave a deep breath and begin again.

This had to be done. Even now, he had a stern, still handsome profile, the profile of an absolutist, a romantic. His breath indicated an arduous journey, some steep path, altitude.

He seemed to be climbing.

But with that will, that work ethic, that strength, there was also sweet Steve’s capacity for wonderment, the artist’s belief in the ideal, the still more beautiful later.

Steve’s final words, hours earlier, were monosyllables, repeated three times.

Before embarking, he’d looked at his sister Patty, then for a long time at his children, then at his life’s partner, Laurene, and then over their shoulders past them.

Steve’s final words were:

OH WOW. OH WOW. OH WOW.

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Inter-Cranial Communication – did it do our Roswell Being in? –Is it all true series # 199

I must first give credit for the title of this piece to my friend, Hank Worbetz, and his recent book, “Reflections of a UFO Investigator.” Of course the Roswell story had a million beginnings and endings and a huge diverse middle. No story has ever had more crazy and amazing theories.

So one of the stories goes that the one entity that survived the crash didn’t survive the human encounter. And here is the story in brief. An army interrogation team was assigned to work on the Alien and get as much intel as possible. But one problem was that this alien didn’t communicate in a verbal manner. He was a telepath and a powerful glamourer (like in the Vampire stories). The security guards noticed the being bending their psyches when they were within a short distance. As Hank said in his book, the interrogators were infected by the powerful cognitive contagion that was making the intel team subservient to the agenda of the entity. And remember the surviving entity probably knew full well we had shot them down with a new radar beam weapon.

So the entity’s agenda was probably not a good one towards us. Still we had murdered some of his buddies. I know I am thinking and talking like a human and these Grey types are far from human. So at the very least he/she/it wasn’t happy to have its journey interrupted. Hank goes further to say our interrogators were originally trying to get intel on their Antarctic Base. Well the intel team didn’t get the goods on the down under base. But sadly the people on the interrogation team were scarred forever. Which is the same reaction that abductees have being close to an Alien being; it changes you forever. But I am not sure it’s for good or bad. But I fully believe time will tell as some event could trigger these Experiencers into some kind of action.

Well the story ends with the military security guards killing the being. It’s remains are probably at Wright–Patterson AFB in a big jar, for the pleasure of a select few military personnel to see. And I many years ago talked to someone who saw the jar.

Sleep Tight – for tomorrow there will be another story/theory about Roswell, but remember dead alien beings tell no stories

MWiz

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Our Cherished Worldview and Why It Holds Us Back- Is It all True Series #186

It holds us back from being, that is, being the new human. A primarily right-brained being, a gentler, questioning being, a being capable of massive amounts of love. Just the amount of unconditional love from one of these new humans will counter 1,000 negative beings of the old model type. So if my math is correct, we need only about seven million of these new humans to change the other 7 billion people that inhabit the earth. So this means one tenth of 1% of the world population can change it all.

I believe the timeframe for this change will be less than 6 months. Our cherished worldview will be shattered. The reign of human tyranny will end. Human beings will finally understand that working with the natural world is the only way we will survive. Just truly recognizing that fact will forever change us. Our report card will be graded on how many species of living things are not dying off.

The catalyst of this new being will be the appearance of our far future self. This will trigger a chain reaction in our inner mind, the reaction is just waiting for the signal and it is coming sooner than most think. The precursor may be symbols, tuning us for the change such as 1111 and powerful visuals such as Crop Circles.

And please don’t think of our future selves as a God or Gods, even though we can do it all; we are all creators. The New Human will harness the total force of the quantum field and use it to shape and form everything around him. The New human being will regain their past place in the Galactic Community – as the kind ones with the full emotional bodies. The tide of Human transformation is upon us. Take a very deep breath and mentally prepare for the journey. Our present worldview is the chains that keep us from being who we were meant to be – a fearless living creature whose only purpose is to create unconditional LOVE.

Sleep Tight, with no fear our new self is nearly here.

MWiz