Distintos tipos de comunicación

On my winter break from college, a little over three months after I had

stopped using marijuana, I knowingly violated the "people, places and things" rule that is advocated in all twelve-step groups, by reinvolving myself with the people, places and things that had surrounded me during my addiction. In this case, that meant hanging out with my old drug buddies, two brothers who lived up the road from me. At that point, I was just starting to put all the pieces back together. I was thinking back to my psychic experiences at a very young age.

I reflected on my ceaseless dedication to be of service to others, often at my own catastrophic expense. I felt as if I was beginning to understand why I always knew that I was here for an important reason, destined to become a spiritual figure for many people.

Now that I had regained control of my life, I was more certain of these truths than ever before.

And there, in the same kitchen where so many wasted nights had been spent, I outlined my emerging feelings, brought about through the incredible, life- changing process of recovery. I could not have imagined the response that I would get.

As they puffed away on cigarettes and slammed beer, I was essentially told by the two brothers that I would "work a dead-end job, marry a fat, ugly bitch and die broken-hearted, shit poor and alone just like everyone else does."

Their denouncements became so forceful that I said that if they didn’t stop with their verbal attacks, I was going to walk out. They continued to rail on me, telling me that I was "totally full of shit" to think that I could be anyone special.

Disgusted, I got up and walked out, without so much as a single goodbye statement; just "I’m leaving now."

Walking home, I continued to pick up all the garbage off of the street. No matter how often I would pick it up, literally every night, there would always be more the next day.

One of my earliest spiritual disciplines, while still actively using marijuana, was to declare myself "keeper" of the road between my house and the house of my friends. It never ceased to amaze me the amount of carelessness that was displayed.

Now I was back home from college and at it again. Every night I went up there, I would come home with two good handfuls of waste, thrown by those who simply didn’t care — about themselves or the Earth. No sooner would I renew the road but a new wave of careless people would come through to dirty it up again.

Clutching my handfuls of waste in both hands, I stood at the crossroads, the intersection between my friends’ street and my own home street. The rushing sound of a nearby train echoed in the background, and later I would realize how profoundly this produced a metaphorical statement about the upcoming Ascension.

For some strange reason, I felt compelled to make a statement to the Experimenters who I had written about, and would soon know to exist from my NASA disclosure the following spring. I felt that this was the only way to regain my sanity after such a vicious attack.

Forming my arms into the shape of the Cross for no apparent reason, I looked to one distinct area of the starry night sky and started to pray.

"I know that you can hear what I am about to say. No matter what anyone tries to say or do to me, I know that I am here for a very important purpose, to become a

spiritual leader for others.

I will do everything I can to fulfill my spiritual mission on this planet, and nothing and no one can change that truth."

At the exact moment that I finished saying that sentence, a shooting star streaked through the sky, exactly within the small area that I had been staring at! Simultaneously, I felt a tremendous bolt of energy surge up through me from the ground.

It was so powerful that the garbage dropped out of my hands, and I stood there for a minute, just feeling its incredible, ecstatic frequencies coursing through me. I had gotten my answer, more wonderfully and completely than I

could have ever imagined.

Tears streamed down my face, and I came home electrified. Before entering the house, I noticed the old white birch tree in the front yard. I came up to it and hugged it, apologizing for having ignored it for all those years since my youth, when I used to climb in it every week.

The tree was about to be cut down, because it was rotting out and needed to be cleared for new growth. I had asked my mother to please spare the tree, that I didn’t want to see it go, that it had meant so much to me when I was a kid.

But now I knew that there was no turning back. The old ways wouldn’t work anymore, and a new life was going to be planted in its place. The sapling would stretch and yearn towards a new tomorrow, leaving much more of the bright green grass exposed than the shadowing from the old tree.

All things truly had to move in cycles, and I also knew that my own life had forever changed by this stunning affirmation of the validity of my mission on the planet.

Now I had the proof, directly from the Source. ET phoned home, and God had answered the phone. I just didn’t realize that I was the ET yet.