A pre-eclipse stream of thought

There is undoubtedly a unique sense of enormity in the anticipation of the “Great American Eclipse”, a sociological spectacle centering on a cosmic alignment, with the mass of humanity seeming to be wrapped up into some kind of hoopla, while usually or striving for a way to be
with one’s self and many have made it this far… So here we are, at this final anticipation of something that we know is cyclical, we may have other chances at seeing total eclipses (depending), but you know you want to experience this. Or you don’t. It might be too intense, and some cultures advise against it, such as the Navajo. And here in Las Vegas it’ll be 72%, partial, as with much of the country, but it is the first coast to coast in 99 years… eclipses have
been shown to affect gravity, and the general balance in the field whereas many people  encounter sleep difficulties, tensions, mood swings and higher energies. So I’d think it’s a good idea to meditate and ground.
The overtly divisive political overtones in the most tumultuous historical time experienced by
most people in our lifetimes, in America, is worrisome, but we need to transmute this negativity
into positive change, a higher level of understanding, and from the heart. I saw a wording in an
article saying how this brings “nationalistic pride” to the country… the wording in itself (“The Great American Eclipse”) is interesting and well you’ve heard about the president being born
under an eclipse, and I don’t yet know if he’s giving a speech or anything. Anyway, the vibe is all
strange right now and that’s how it gets around one of these… I can just imagine but barely of the totality, not in the cards for me this time, but I’m all hyped up about this one. But I feel it’ll be beautiful, people will look at things in a new light.
I or we could be projecting these things, and there is certainly a wide web of souls each with a unique consciousness and worldview… I am mainly considering the millions of people flocking to the state of Oregon and other states in its path, and the undeniable social upheaval that has been occurring lately. It may be self-fulfilling prophecy… not sure how many of us have worried
about it coming in the past, but we can see that fear gets us down a path that we’re not so sure about having chosen at times… though then I suppose that is part of the wilderness we live in.
So the moon gets in front of the sun. It seems logically like a thing that happens once in a while, and is, but this time we’re getting it all on our national land, and we are going to celebrate (if we’re up early enough). And meditate, and create, and any other -ate. Or sleep. In the path of totality, of twilight at high noon, the image in my mind astounds and mystifies me as I realize I can not fully grasp it. Well light will return, people will rejoice, and the land will be lit anew… and what people plan to put into action, I bet, will yield results pretty quickly.
I do put myself in a skeptical point of view often to be careful but there is a core truth that I keep returning to… and what it is English language (or any I know) can’t really describe… even if it’s all projection, it is a whole lot of human consciousness agreeing upon a focal point and.. that seems like a lot of potential. The background noise is as loud and rackety as it could be and it keeps
going by in front of your door, but we’re in our homes, securing ourselves in our own being, ready. I don’t have a proper metaphor for the outdoors here but it’s something along the lines of a mass transaction of energy and its reverberations.

I basically would love to see everyone just calm down, no matter what it is (I can still calm down more about the eclipse), enjoy life, and not have expectations of others or what reality is. Don’t feed into fear, hate of any other group, it’s clear that violence begets violence and it’s only downhill from there. Some people think it’s inevitable that we go down a certain path, but we’ve seen what can happen to “inevitable”…
Well, this phenomenon comes at a pivotal time in history and maybe it really is the “fifth sun” or sixth, or the dawning of the age of Aquarius, or the singularity, but what about when the sun comes out again and all feels the same? Was it just some mass hallucination? Or pre-trip jitters?
Or… is it real? I guess it’s all what we believe. Or what we’re here for. Part of it for us all to share, however we choose to frame this world. Remember your special glasses.


And Jerry Lewis died today. I think we’re ready for the next step.




<I>(yes, I will get back to writing solid articles soon, what an interesting year it’s been…)</I>


The following is a letter sent to Sheriff Lombardo and all whom it may concern, about the ordeal suffered by our friend Vera, witnessed by George Killingsworth, my new friend and first walking buddy for the Sacred Peace Walk we took part in last week, the most nonviolent protest action I’ve ever attended (not that any I attend have any intent of violence anyway and almost all swear to peacefulness, though the principles of this annual tradition are what make it what it is), following their arrests for unlawful assembly (civil disobedience of blocking an entrance to Creech Air Force Base; personnel were simply rerouted to the next entrance)… None of us expected any brutality to be inflicted or suffered by our peacewalkers. Vera is a longtime peace activist friend of mine (here we’re pictured on the news side-by-side in a similar yet less pre-planned action at one of the early police brutality protests in 2014) and we were all worried when we heard this and that she was detained for several more hours than her fellow arrestees. I also have video of other protesters’ eyewitness accounts. This is George’s story:





On Tuesday, April 11, 2017 I was arrested and detained for eight hours while being booked in the Las Vegas Clark County Detention Center [CCDC].   I was arrested along with four other companions for our protest of crimes being planned and committed in our name at Creech Airforce Base.

This was my second experience of being detained at CCDC and as an 81 year old retired Clergy-person I have made many hundreds of visits with parishioners in jails and prisons over the years.  I have no expectation of being treated gently while under arrest, but I do expect simple respect.

You affirm the following standards in your STATED VALUES:

On April 11, I witnessed violations of all of these values .. and herein detail one particularly egregious abuse.

To assure the safety of staff and fellow prisoners in is understandable that during the initial booking process personal items and possessions must be surrendered and held and trust until discharge.  Most of my possessions were surrendered to the arresting officer at Creech and after entering CCDC I also surrendered my shoes, rings and elastic hair band.  Booking officers removed my handcuffs and watched me as I removed my rings and hair band.  Thereafter I was re-cuffed and walked to a seating area along with 40 or more other prisoners where we all awaited the next step in the booking process.

From where I was seated I could see across the room to where I had just undergone the initial booking step.  I was alarmed when I heard the cry of one of my Creech arrestee companions [Vera Anderson] and watched as her hair was roughly pulled despite her understandable supplications.

Officer Womack not only ignored my companion’s pleas, but escalated the rough physical and verbal abuse … recklessly pulling and actually cutting my companion’s hair to remove the elastic bands.  Unlike my case, my companion’s cuffs were never removed and she was not invited to remove the bands from her own hair.   Understandably she did turn her head to minimize the pain being inflicted .. and this was evidently seen by Officer Womack as insubordination, whereupon Officer Womack and two other male Officers threw my friend on the floor pummeling her and unnecessarily restraining her with their fists and knees.  Then she was thrown into a restraining chair with tight chains on her ankles and wrists.  She was then wheeled around a corner of the waiting room to where fewer witnessing eyes could witness the additional “processing”.

It is worth noting that my companion who was so excessively and unnecessarily abused is African American and Officer Womack, like myself, is White.  As is so routinely the case, people with my skin color receive undeserved preferential and privileged treatment.  Sadly Officer Womack’s violently abusive behavior illustrated that Black Lives Matter Much Lessto those with unrestrained power and authority.

Hours later in the prolonged booking process, Officer Womack ordered two other prisoners and myself around the corner of the room to line up for mug shots.  As it turned out I was the last in this line of three and found myself standing beside my friend in the restraining chair.  I quietly asked her if she was still in pain whereupon Officer Womack yelled at me to “shut the fuck up” and come to the front of the line to have my photo taken.  I followed her command whereupon she changed her mind and had another Officer walk me back to the waiting room where I was re-cuffed and seated in an area with other “difficult” prisoners.

In the course of my eight hour detention, I repeatedly asked for food and nourishment .. my requests were ignored.  I repeatedly asked to make a phone call [there were three phones on the waiting room wall].  I was told that I could not make a call because I was soon to be discharged.  After this last denial I was put into a final stage holding cell together with 12 other prisoners where I was held for three hours.

This three hour period was the most treasured part of the day for me.  Locked in the holding cell there were no guards to disrespect us, abuse us and provoke us.  We shared life stories and friendships were made that have continued following discharge.  One new friend literally gave me the shirt off his back.  Another extremely talented holding cell friend treated us to amazing hip hop poetry and rap spoken word performance art.  He has several stunning videos on youtube and I believe he will surely make his future mark as a brilliant poet and performer.  None of us were or are angels … but surely the most human interaction we enjoyed that day was during those three hours locked together in the holding cell protected from disrespectful guards.

Everyone in the CCDC booking room that day should have been presumed innocent until proven otherwise in Court and therefore deserving of and treated with respect … as your stated values affirm.

I urge you to discipline Officer Womack and maybe even remove her from positions where she can continue her violently disgraceful and likely racist abuse.

Thank you for hearing me out.

Rev. George Killingsworth


2016: The Year of Death… and Rebirth

The huge “trend” of 2016’s theme lately is clearly that this year sucked, that it was full of death and disappointment, and I felt like that for a while, like it was some bottomless pit, until things couldn’t get any worse and I thought- hey, it can only be up from here, and there’s got to be huge lessons to gain from all the pain. I decided to give my next article this morbid name while I was in jail, thinking about the strange year that had been going past and partly referring to the state of mind I felt was going through a transformation or at least major growth process… though no I am not going to preach a Born-Again sermon. I had mainly been referring to the large-scale collective/cultural phenomenon of major famous or infamous celebrities, of larger-than-life public figures, dying at seemingly unexpectedly premature times. Prince, David Bowie, Muhammad Ali, Alan Rickman, Gene Wilder, Antonin Scalia (a different kind of “celebrity”, perhaps not larger-than-life but a strange sounding death), Anton Yelchin (again not “huge” but realllly weird circumstances), and many more in the first nine months of the year.

Though on a more personal and local/friends-and-family scale, I was feeling unsettled with a few passings of loved ones (for those who already know, this was all before the passing of my grandmother), such as my very good friend- one of my best friends, outspoken activist and brilliant writer, Sean Gruber- tragically pushed beyond his limits by the harassing intimidating tactics of the LVMPD; my grandma’s Godson/cousin’s father, Arthur; and my new amazing friend Alia. It all started off with the death of Alia Nicole Hajaj a friend I had made just a year before, a glowingly amazing-spirited girl, who lifted the spirits around her whenever she graced them with her multi-colorful presence, well into the discovery of her cancer that doctors thought would kill her about a year earlier. I wish I got to know her better but our short bondings and the impression she left on me, along with some things I learned after her death, affected my life deeply and I will always feel a part of her with me, as well as with the expressive artistic community she powerfully affected here in Vegas. She was also the reason I went to a hospice for the first time ever, and not the last person I visited in hospice last year.

This was all before my arrest on September 17, 2016. My grandma took a fall on September 11, wounding her head, breaking three vertebrae- two in neck and one in her lower back, and experiencing her worst stroke yet- an ischemic. My arrest/jail details are too lengthy for this topic, but it was basically for singing/yelling along to the an upbeat folksy version of the NWA song “F**k The Police”. I got out of jail on November 8th, at 8pm, at the time the election polls closed (I had decided early in the year this would be the first time I’d most likely skip the elections since I became of voting age, anyway), at which time I asked a few fellow inmates being released who was winning, and they said “Trump”- to which I laughed, but they maintained serious faces and I realized they were serious (again, I didn’t see a difference either way and would not have voted for either- but I saw this as a huge surprise given Hillary seemed to be the destined royal heir). November 8th was one of the best days of my life, having been released after nearly two months of the psychological/spiritual challenge of my lifetime, back with the one I loved since just before jail.

3 and a half days later, my grandmother died. To me, of course, she overshadowed all deaths and losses of the year, with a status no celebrity could ever achieve in my worldview. She was 99 years old (about 4 months away from 100) and died in hospice after deterioration from an infection developed while in a temporary nursing home. I at least was able to talk to her in her final days, though she was unconscious (although, I swear she heard and responded with her eyes moving and mouth moving/puckering quite a bit- as they say, the hearing is the last to go), which she had been starting a few days before I was released from jail. Hours before her passing, I went through a breakup (or initially a break; saved until after jail for courtesy of my sanity I suppose), so of course the proximity of events weren’t planned by any hand of man, but it’s safe to say it wasn’t a great day. November 12th will go down as one of the worst days in my life, in which I felt or perceived a piece of myself die. But the sunset was beautiful, almost as I imagined it in a dream from early in my jail stay, the most beautiful skies I’d ever seen in that dream framework.


Since then there have been bumps and facing losses head-on and moments of closure, and I feel the world brightening up even more than it did on 11-8, though that night had a feel of “too good to be true”… this new and wondrous time has a feel of “it must be true”. Since my grandma’s viewing service, and after making a video tribute to her life, a wave of luck (happening to involve 8s) seemed to set in, especially that night (of November 30th), with very clear signs of more higher-hands at work and play. My mood has shifted from the most drastic waves and pits I’d ever felt, to a peaceful and ecstatic calm, hopeful and returning to faith of a beautiful, bright future. The return of lucidity and clarity I felt in jail, with all the factors of my captive person playing on my perspective, now released, and breaking out of the psychological captivity that my mind clung onto in the weeks following my release, and my outside-world traumas. The “real test”, as would be repeatedly spoken of in jail, came upon returning to the outside.

The challenges were quite personal and primarily involving relationships and loss, and I have been noticing many friends/people going through heavy life changes lately of their own. It may just be some social trend or phenomenon of perception of “things getting crazier” or a “speeding up” of time or novelty to a “singularity” or something objective, and I’m sure I’m getting crazier, but doesn’t it seem like something kinda strange is going on? Or some kind of upheaval, on the micro and macro?


Well apparently, now (since starting this article over a month ago), most people seem to be thinking that way, the way I was thinking about the period or “transition” our world was entering some years ago when people would give me blank stares or call me crazy or well, quickly change the subject and quickly get me quiet on it, so I would just find my crazy little internet corners to go find solace in. Perhaps that’s still looking into it too much and this is just a pendulum swing and next year will be “calm”, or it’s just a side effect of higher population and accelerating technology and social media saturation… but I do think a lot of this is attributable to a shift of the ages… a mass awakening, if you will, and shedding of attachments, material-centered conceptions, and a whole reworking of how we perceive the world works in general.

Those that we have perceived as gods of modern music have been leaving the Earth in droves… I am certainly not saying that Prince or David Bowie or Leonard Cohen or George Michael are outdated… but times, they are a’changin. Perhaps this is some subliminal yet overt message that there is a new sound now… I don’t mean EDM (and it’s taken me decades to build a kind of enjoyment for that), but who knows… I’m suggesting a new frequency, a new vibration that is here for us to embrace and ride and compose. And perhaps they’re passing on the instruments to us.

We may not control our fate but I believe we can design the paths we take to get to the fate we desire or know we’re headed towards at our core, and perhaps we designed all paths or all destinations before we “came here”, or perhaps a higher creator force/God did, and perhaps an agreement between the “two”… or three. But once we get the map or directions we don’t just lay it on the table and expect to get to the destination happily or easily. It is up to us to lead the path and take the turns we feel in our hearts/soulds/minds are what we should take… as well as the choice to diverge or experiment and explore the wilderness.


Overall, I figured death would be an interesting theme to place on the year, but a bit dark and maybe forceful/exaggeratory seeming (before I saw it coming from all directions and “trendy”… and then rebirth came as the natural following theme as it was the transition I seemed to be going through internally and during continued life (and no near-death experiences I can recall this year), as many people that have been through any “death” and continued on living may identify with the term rebirth… eh? Well then of course came real death in the family and by then I felt prepared, aside from her five years of dementia and physical signs. But preparation is a tricky word, for who knows what exactly the outcome of a traumatic event will be?

55 days of captivity surely gave me a lot of time to “prepare” for whatever I was to face on the outside, and I knew a lot was at stake and in store. My grandma’s (second guardian) life, my brand new love of my life, my mom’s well being, and my sanity. And perhaps the world’s sanity. Several were lost, but I have a whole lot to care for and love, still. And I like to think I’m still relatively sane (but insane enough).

All in all I came out of it eager to get back to the challenges of the old and very new world (again, election night) while realizing and adjusting to the reality of the immensity of the change from one confined place to this endless world of (still limited) choices, an innumerable amount of which could lead me back to where I just was, which was and is and will continue to be very unappealing to me. Above all the adaptation effort and anxiety, there was a whole world of opportunities awaiting, and glorious plentiful freedom. Limited again by the law and money (of which the law wants as much as it can get from you, but that’s not where this article is headed- sorry usual readers).

Actually, this blog piece thing does have some sort of “political” message involved… I was already leaning toward this step in my evolution or thought process anyway, but jail definitely nudged me more in the direction of peace and understanding and resolution (still support revolution) than immediate response and acting aggressively with emotions, thinking irresponsibly/lack of thinking straight and self-righteousness, and building on the concepts of compassion, true justice, faith, tolerance, and other values and issues I wrote about to occupy my mind in there… The whole ordeal “vindicated” me as one friend said, in ways, but I was not going to wave a flag about it or turn it into some sob or show-off story, which i hope it hasn’t come across as when I’ve talked about it endlessly, because it’s just a very significant lump of time and reference point in my modern life history that at least is becoming a smaller fraction of my memory and recent reconditioning (attempt) as time passes.


I may have subconsciously come up with this title after a deep metaphysical and personal psychological experience of the “epiphany” sort last Spring. I felt a familiar sensation but not one I had so vividly felt before, in my daily-access memory… that of “remembering”, not quite a specific event, or even my life up until now, but something beyond, encompassing this life, my birth, and what seemed to even be a concept of death, and the realm or containing dimension “around” that… as if this life, including the entryway and the exit, are one object that may be perceived from the “outside” and we are here for a purpose, or to learn some kind of lesson that we can at least identify at certain points in our lives… perhaps an ever-changing lesson, and we seem to have free will and capability of choice while in this life to take the paths that will determine who we are, our character, how we decide our stories will play out. Perhaps our character is pre-existing and we will always have made the choices we made in every moment, but this appearance of free will may be completely necessary for us to have motivation to continue living, or to choose whether we believe in free will or not based on our mental/spiritual/genetic framework. Anyway, personally, I felt that the year to come was going to be an immense challenge and I would need to be there for my family- identified at the time as my mom and grandma- more than ever, and to be the best I can be… and then I would be set more solidly on my path of “success”, whatever that may mean to me.

Well I recently- and this is the one paragraph (or two or more, however many until I’m finally done) that I am writing well into 2017 and at a point which I realize barely anyone may have made it reading this far- had a brief “part two” to this experience of “remembering” or what some may perceive as a “transcendental” experience, after all that had gone on this past year and feeling that what was meant to happen, happened… and that I am being there for my mother as much as I feel I can, when she needs it more than ever since her mother’s passing, which is also the most challenging experience of such in my life. I recently felt that this is how it must be, and still I am making my own choices of my own free will, something that I felt confirmed during my very reflective time in jail, combined with a spiritual experience that seemed to prove to me there is a grand cosmic design, with an extremely dark sense of humor, along with a very wise, powerful manner of teaching important lessons. Some lessons seem to get right to the heart of what this entire life is about, and even might have some kind of effect or resonance on that “container” of this life, birth, and death period… when those closest to us die, there seem to be shockwaves in all directions, such as some may perceive in sudden dramatic global or cultural events… we may not comprehend what those shockwaves emanate from, especially before they happen, but I think that they do indeed go outward in time, a construct made linear by man’s mind. We can probably identifty different kinds of shockwaves after the event, or loved one’s death, even sometimes having epiphanies or feeling some deep new knowledge or lesson seemingly passed on by them or as a necessary coping or growth mechanism… though we can also sink into the depths of grief, despair, and helplessness, and lose sight of the beauty of life if we let the darkness overcome.

I feel like my time in jail, the 2 months that ended days before my grandma’s death, were a preparation period for me, a form of the shockwave in one way, as well as for my mother, the most challenging time of our lives- one in which my mother gradually thought my grandmother would make it home ok, and in which I prepared for the worst… but continued to hope for the best. After a while I *had* to have faith in “the best”, or that at least things would be better than they were in jail once I got out. Some of these things did turn out to better, some turned out to manifest as the fears I tried to avoid thinking about most in jail… yet that struggle of avoidance and temptation of the radical range of thoughts in there took my attention to so many scenarios.

Above all, I decided, I wrote, and wrote and wrote, on reflections of what I was learning there, of what I wanted to work on (myself and creatively) once I would be released, and how to contribute to bettering the world, and helping my family, in whatever ways I could. And I knew the return to “normalcy” (which I never really had a firm sense of), or relatively smooth adaptation, would take a while and great effort, and I felt more motivated than ever. I knew it was the transition of a lifetime, and while I had some hopes that didn’t quite pan out as this new phase in life, I looked at every setback, disappointment, and deep frustration that made me scream into my jail bed mat, and got right back to figuring out how to move forward and where to shift focus.  This instilled in me a new discipline, dedication, and motivation to be “the best I can be”, the first strength of such (sober) kind I had felt in decades… arguably, the biggest transformation since I was 27, 5-6 years ago, in which I had several near-death experiences, but this truly felt like rock bottom, and paralleled with my grandma’s death, appeared to present a message I would be making a gigantic mistake to ignore or take for granted.

I was so worried about the rising tension in the nation, and how it would handle the coming elections, the most foreseeably polarizing event in the political history of our lifetimes… and I ended up getting out when the results came in. I didn’t get quite the sense of chaos I worried about months or longer before when I imagined what it would be like if Trump won. Basically, it did feel like an inevitability of a universe gone nuts and that apparentlty I agreed to ride out this crazy ass timeline, and well a revolution is what I’ve wanted, and well this would seem the most likely route to propel us through that threshold.

Anyway, like I said this isn’t a political article (but how can any 2016-themed piece not mention the election/division), so enough of that angle, but I heard and then noticed that many other people I knew were also going through extremely tumultuous times, spiritual transformations and upheavals, and by the final weeks of the year I was blown away by the amount of friends and acquaintances mourning the losses of loved ones, specifically close relatives… and the celebrities, especially the archetypal figures. I mostly didn’t feel very surprised, but still overwhelmed by the quantity, as it felt like a sort of fractal lesson that was blanketing or spreading all over society… or a spiritual shock and shaking of so so many of our personal foundations and living attachments, right down to our genetic core, our blood, and part of the revelations I experienced in jail- the national/global moral or identity crisis was more of a macrocosm of what we experiencing on the individual and familial scales, or microcosmic breakdowns and apocalypse- unveiling of deep truths and shattering of illusion- and for that to happen tragedy may often be the catalyst… and suddenly the large-scale social issues didn’t seem as concerning… or at least not to me, after a decade of deep concern and sometimes obsession over the dark “powers that be” in politics and society. I felt the old me had died (not literally) and this new worldview, involving factors of natural growth and accelerated growth due to strenuating circumstances, was coming in not nice and easy, but with the pains of birth… and the psyche can feel quite strained when the metamorphosis hits hard and fast and forces you to catch up with your new self, the self with the upgraded capabilities to handle whatever new environment/world you’re about to emerge in. And jail was basically my cocoon stage, a really restrictive mentally-testing larva period… the release and turn of events that followed were the biggest challenge of all.


We come into this life through pain… the pain of our mothers, and who knows how it felt on our own bodies, but that transition of womb to this air-filled earthly light of man and sun must have been traumatic… and who knows what we might remember from before then if there were some smoother transition and preparation. Or I suppose perhaps if our brains were more fully used also, somehow. Even in growing up through adolescence, we get “growing pains”, and kids go through all kinds of physical, psychological, and in some ways spiritual traumas and challenges, and from that we all grow and learn. So it makes sense that we will continue to go through these growing pains, and transformational traumas, and even perhaps “rebirths” into our adulthood. And since society has seemed to grow and pass through maturity stages as well (with many setbacks, see current era), I don’t think it’s a major stretch to say society/species/civilization may go through these painful phases and traumatic transitions right when we need to learn a lesson or be “reborn”… and perhaps, seeing how research into frequencies and energy has yielded some very substantial evidence that such factors are “real” in this universe, large-scale periods of upheaval and radical change may at times align with widespread personal-level experiences of comparable change.


I feel we should embrace chage and growth, and push our way through the pain that comes with it… not embrace or endorse inflicting pain to bring about desired change, but the pain that may come upon oneself or on a larger scale that is a natural and inevitable way of life, that must be dealth with either sooner or later. And repeatedly as I thought in jail, well, when it rains it pours, and bring on whatever it is that needs to happen to open the doors for growth- because by nature we are survivors, and we want to live in the face of odds stacked seemingly against us… and while dying doesn’t mean losing, facing death is a part of life, whether it be our own or our loved ones, and when our loved ones come to that point of crossing from life to death, we come face to face with what will happen to us one day.

Until then, we can make the most of the time we have, whatever we think comes next. Or we can live our lives in a prison, whether it be physical, psychological, or emotional… it took me physical captivity and spiritual/psychological exploration, and the death of the 2nd closest person to me in my life, (oh and the harshest breakup yet), to really make completely clear and stamp deep into my mind the need for personal restructuring, internal revolution, and complete life renewal- and I’ve seen something similar happen with the world, though perhaps a bit more chaotically (or at least in our country) and with more work to be done (myself included), and we should keep 2016 in mind anytime we may slip from being humble, lose faith that all will work out, or feel disempowered or perhaps feel too much power… and do not let a good rebirth go to waste.


Rest in peace grandma Phyllis, uncle Arthur, Sean, Alia, Bowie, Prince, Gene, Debbie, Carrie, and the many many others who left us in 2016…

“Take What You Need and Leave Right Now”: Raids Target Local Homeless Encampment

by Jonas Rand
(special guest contributor)
December 23, 2016

According to several witnesses and former inhabitants, all of whom wished to remain anonymous, a raid by the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department (LVMPD) two weeks ago forcibly drove out a group of people camped in a local park consisting of over two dozen individuals, dispersing them and discarding their belongings.

For those who had been residing in East Las Vegas’ Molasky Family Park, located near the UNLV campus, December 8 seemed not unlike any other day. With little to shelter them from the windy winter weather, the park’s street-dwelling residents fell asleep as night descended, expecting nothing new the next day.

That all changed in the early hours of the following morning, when several witnesses say they were awakened to the sound of Metro officers raiding the park to forcibly disperse the park’s homeless population. Perhaps as many as 40 people had been present in the park the previous night. 

Park residents report waking to a chaotic scene. They recalled having to move heavy loads of their belongings quickly, after being given only 60 seconds to remove their belongings, with those who failed to comply in time receiving citations. 

Those present in the park at the time of the Dec 9 raid said on Tuesday that the unanticipated police action involved the officers arriving while they were asleep/ The police seized many of their personal belongings, including tents and blankets, which were seen being thrown in a dumpster, according to witnesses. 

“We woke up and […] the police, the park maintenance people, they were driving around. They came in with the dumpsters, and they were taking everybody’s stuff, throwing it in the dumpster, telling them ‘take what you need and leave right now’”, one witness stated on Tuesday. “They were taking everything there and throwing it in the trash.”

Park Police and LVMPD officers were in the park on Tuesday from approximately 10am to 12pm, when one person was arrested on an outstanding warrant, and confirmed that an action to move on those who had taken up residence in the park was planned as early as December 1. According to Metro’s Sergeant Ryan Cook, the park was singled out for action at a meeting that day of the County Multi-Agency Response Team (CMART), a local police unit which includes multiple county agencies. 

Sgt. Cook stated that the action was in response to “people who take up residence in the park and diminish the quality of the park for everyone else who […] would like to utilize this park”. The goal of the action, he said, was to “link the individuals […] who are utilizing the park as their home, to Help of Southern Nevada”, a local charitable organization which provides services for Las Vegas residents affected by homelessness or housing instability, to provide them with services, including housing in shelters or apartments, which he said had been prepared for at least some of the displaced individuals.

Disappointment, conflicting narratives remain

Meanwhile, individuals who were awakened to the raid who were also approached by police Tuesday reported that volunteers with Help of Southern Nevada was not present at the park at the time they were announced to be coming. 

“A couple more police came[…]. They said Help of Southern Nevada would be on their way, that they were going to be there, within 10 minutes, right where we were at. Then I went to the other side of the park, I came back and then they told us “oh, they’re going to be on the opposite side of the park, in 20 minutes”, a previously quoted witness to the raid who was in the park at the time, said later on Tuesday. “We went back to the other side [to meet with them], and they never showed up, we waited [about] an hour. They never came”, he said.

That witness, alongside another witness to the raid who was also present for the police visit on Tuesday, also said that the police were there to inform them of a sweep planned for the next day by the Park Police, to clear out remaining residents. The former camp resident reported that one policewoman’s comments on Tuesday to those who had returned to the park brought up families visiting for the holidays as the reason that he and others had to leave, describing returning individuals as “a deterrent”. 

It was not immediately clear whether such a sweep happened; however, sources present the following morning saw no presence of police nor evidence of action to clear the park. 

While multiple former residents of the encampment had reported that there were several previous visits by police, none seemed to indicate that there was warning the previous day of what was to come. There were perhaps 5 prior visits, the witness previously quoted said, and that each time, people were told to leave. One head police officer was reported to have repeatedly said “Not on my watch”. 

One day before the raid, police came by and awakened everyone, according to another witness, who had lived in the park for approximately 2 years. She said that she had also been given misinformation, namely that the raid would occur on the 16th, a week after the raid, and that Park Police had raided two weeks ago. 

But at no time did they announce that they were intending to clear the encampment that Friday, and there was no indication that property would be seized. Sources also reported citations given to individuals who did not leave with their property fast enough, including a deaf resident whose belongings were seized and discarded. 

“There’s lots of people in that park that really need help, and they’re not getting it. A lot of us, we’re having hard times right now. Trying to get back on our feet”, said one of the witnesses interviewed Tuesday.

The same witness also reported that he knew of no one who was housed by Help of Southern Nevada as of yet, and that many would refuse to go to shelters. According to the former park resident, the group had only sent one representative once, to inform residents about their housing services. Among the reasons people have not been willing to accept housing options offered by Help of Southern Nevada are the presence of bedbugs in shelters as well as restrictions on pet ownership in available housing options.

Police remain positive

Sgt. Cook expressed an unapologetically positive attitude about the police action. 

Cook, who works in the community-oriented policing section of Metro, commented that “when we have individuals that utilize the playground equipment for sleeping places, and kids can’t enjoy the slides, and things like that, is when park police and us get called, to try to help resolve the situation and get people to where they need to be”. He brought up the services that Help of Southern Nevada provides, including a new triage center. 

Asked how he felt about the action, he said, “I think it’s positive. I think it’s positive that the park is being used for what it was actually initially designed for, which is recreation and entertainment for all the residents. Not private living facilities.”

Still, however, not everyone is pleased. An additional onlooker who witnessed the raid, noting that displaced camp residents would simply re-locate, said Monday, “They’re not fixing the problem, they’re just avoiding the problem.”

Sean Gruber, Liberty Activist, 1981-2016

Sean, a beloved and well-known activist amongst libertarian-leaning circles, a talented writer, radio personality and more in the short time I’ve known him, died from a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. Here is more on the background from another friend, Kelly Patterson, including Sean’s final (unfinished) essay: R.I.P. Sean Gruber – Yet Another Victim of the LVMPD

I’ve known Sean just a few years, and we hung out just a handful of times, but quickly through our conversations and common interests it became clear our philosophical connection and common beliefs in what is right and wrong was strong- One central bond between Sean and I was writing, both in humor and in seriousness, but now I find myself at a loss for words that can measure up. I know I’ve got to bring up Hunter S. Thompson, and what Sean saw in me I saw in him albeit from slightly different angles, and if I did indeed have that Hunter nature, Sean’s Hunter half was fully thorough in his unfiltered, raw, limitless wit, scathing with truth those who oppress, who brutalize, who parade the most grotesque displays of human depravity under the guise of “law”, and he could not stand to partake in “their” world any longer. The main entity of his scorn was LVMPD, for many good legitimate reasons. One of these final eloquent thoughts he delivered shows the emotion that they just made snowball-

“You assholes push me and I’ll say what I mean. I hate you. You made me hate you. I didn’t like cops when I moved to Las Vegas – I left with a paranoid hatred of which I can barely describe.”

After I got the call about his passing… after the shock, I thought, well I don’t know much of his personal life since he’s moved, though I couldn’t help but wonder if or to what degree the harassment by LVMPD had to do with it. Well it wasn’t until yesterday that I saw that he had been put on a “Dangerous Persons” list by Metro, which he found out when he tried to get a concealed weapons permit in New Hampshire, a state that promised to have more “freedom” than most states. I had wondered if he was feeling “freer” there, and I hoped so, but I certainly thought at least the Vegas harassment had stopped.

And then I saw his final essay, said to be unfinished… and it became pretty clear that the weight of the continued pressure from afar was a significant factor. His family had been affected- and he felt they were thus at risk too… and I don’t believe it’s weak to worry immensely about one’s family, when the heat of a gang so murderous and conniving as the LVMPD comes down upon you and your loved ones, directly or indirectly.

I saw for myself, far too close for comfort, and amongst a group of people I was involved with in the Libertarian Party “leadership”- a party he had felt aligned with though understandably became very alienated by, as with many of us- but he to a very direct and disturbing degree. Someone- later it appeared it wasn’t the person he first thought but in the group he knew they were in (we discussed this with each other later after the dust seemed to have settled)- didn’t like the nature of a post of his after the two Vegas cops were shot by people he never met or talked to, words in which didn’t even go as far as his last post- and still he has never threatened a cop once. Well I witnessed this person online say that they would have to report him (as some kind of duty because of their line of work associated with police) if he continued his “language”, or whatever, and I tried defending his freedom of speech but this “public servant” was stuck in their ways and I realized my words made no difference… while this person tried to get all of us to change our profile pictures to the black-crossed police memorial badge thing, as a clearly political ass-covering gesture, and Sean called them out on it (this was honestly a factor in me not going with the herd, aside from the tackiness and insincerity- Sean’s words made complete sense).

(Sean’s words on this can be found here… the person who reported him was not one of the two names he mentioned here- he later learned their true identity. Somebody Saw Unpopular Opinions, Somebody Said Something)

Well I didn’t realize until weeks later, after Sean had understandably blocked me amongst others because of our association with the scumbag who reported him, that he actually was reported to “authorities” and “visited” at his home. Eventually he unblocked me and we cleared the story up with each other, and for all this time I felt like complete shit for having been in a committee with the asshole who reported him for his dissent- a complete opposite of Sean, a sell-out fake to the core, whom I didn’t even realized was involved with a Fusion Center (link, where they collect all the agencies’ data of everybody and go after “dangerous people”), without the ounce of ability to ever be anywhere near the genuine friend Sean was. I was at least happy when he stepped down from his position of the LP, because he was too “busy” (apparently too busy reporting people for voicing their harmless passionate feelings), but the damage had already been done.

“The truth about me isn’t very nice for the “powers that be.” I’m very boring. I’m a thirty five year old man. I live on odd jobs and my family’s charity. I have no criminal record. I’ve never been arrested. I’ve never been convicted of a crime. I’ve never even been charged with a crime.”

They accomplished NOTHING by harassing him, by intimidating him to the point of leaving this state, except getting blood on their hands with their pathetic tactics. People like SEAN are the threats? People who raise awareness of the TRUTH- a truth that now has spread so far and deep and gone beyond the point of no return, because those in charge have decided they are still right- as far as they go down the path of tyranny, and brutalization, and cornering peaceful people into hellholes by harassment… so far that they have awakened the actual threats- those inclined toward violence against others, those who truly have gone off the deep end and are most likely not making valid points like Sean, and they should also look within their own ranks first for the real most likely culprits…

Sean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell that bastard off as soon as he posed the possibility of having to report you- I know a couple of us argued that he didn’t need to go to that extent- I naively didn’t think he actually would. The betrayal hits deeper than ever right now. I also had no idea the chain reaction that could start… as Hunter says, “The mind of America is seized by a fatal dry rot – and it’s only a question of time before all that the mind controls will run amok in a frenzy of stupid, impotent fear.”
We’ve clearly come to that moment, and it’s understandable you could not take this rot anymore, especially now that the impotent fear has infected the minds of an army of badged thugs, one especially corrupt gang of which had their sights set on you. Because you have a natural talent to convey your feelings through your words, a mind that cannot be silenced, a passion for humanity that is unwavering and unyielding, qualities I truly admire from the core of my heart and soul, and I cherished each time we talked in person or online. Your friends also did, they loved you dearly and we always will…

Anytime I again feel the lower reaction of fear and self-censorship arise, in the face of the grotesque multi-headed hydra monster that holds the illusion of power over the masses, and uses boots of fear to try to stomp the idea of liberty out of any of us who show value for human life… I will remember you and move forward in calling them out, and strive for anything near your incomparable consistency. You remind me I must live up to that unspoken vow of bringing light to the dark wherever necessary- those of us who see and understand how important that light is, that truth, and how dark that dark that tries to keep the light out is- must be sought after with our life… and no one can turn out that light for us.

It doesn’t matter how many times they “visit” us, which they did quite a bit around the time Sean was visited, we will not submit. Sean did not submit, he fought without violence, until his dying breaths.

And oh yeah, your one constructive critique of my writing I’ve always remembered- too many run-on sentences… yeah, I better work on that too.

And to close with another Hunter quote, whom Sean was like not just in his witty darkness but his blazingly glorious fun, oh what a great sense of humor and vigor Sean had…

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

Articles by Sean Gruber:



Sean Gruber (right) and I (left)

Cymatics Story: Bus Stop Scene

So, I’ve been working on this for way longer than makes sense, a little scene from a much larger-scoped book I’ve been working on off & on a few years… I lost 3-4 earlier drafts in different ways (paper, typed, phone, etc.) but now even if it’s all over the place, I decided to post it long ago, especially a year ago when I started meeting a lot of people who partially inspired this. To me, these people are many of you, but no one specifically represents any one person I know. I’m going to tag those of you who I have felt this way about, whether we cross paths sometimes and rarely if ever talk, or are best friends and have had more run-ins than seems logical, but I am not necessarily tagging my best friends… this is a connection that is of a certain level, and I hope the idea comes across at least somewhat. I went some different directions so I divided this into three main parts. We find our protagonist here after his reality has become completely unidentifiable and… I can’t give too much away about that… here we go:
I I was sweating profusely in the walk to the bus stop in the sweltering heat, but inside I felt an icy cold pain I hadn’t felt since my worst breakup… the thought hit me that I was completely alone; more alone than I could ever imagine before my world turned to complete random chaos impossible to follow from one day to the next. I’d never felt a hole so deep, as if physically carved into my chest. My sister calling the police on me, “the stranger” for sitting at her breakfast table is what did it, I think. No one knew me for my actual self anymore, and I didn’t know the world around me anymore. I was mixing yesterday’s version of the world with the relatively stable world a month ago with whatever world I’d found myself “currently” in. I’d spun out of any trace of sanity and knew I could not handle this on my own much longer.
A familiar sight then appeared ahead. The bus approached the light before the bus stop, out of what seemed like nowhere. I ran across the street, once again playing the catch the bus challenge. I suppose the bus would always have the same consistently impatient character.
Fortunately as I got closer I could make out more and more people waiting so I didn’t push myself further beyond my limit.
With all the weirdness and apparent randomness of what reality I was living in with each new day, the reason for my rush became blurry and almost completely unknown, even though I knew I was heading to a Freeman rally I had just seen an email invite to. Just in case I came out at the end of whatever psychological breakdown or breakthrough I was experiencing in the same world I felt sane in, I wanted to keep up my basic stable grounded roles. So the rally it would be, as long as Freeman was the same candidate he was before… ah, shit.
As I reached the bus stop before the bus’s stoplight even switched to green, I realized I recognized this “bag lady” out in front from many bus rides before my life went surrealist, all over town. I used to wonder about her since everything went berzerk. She was one of the most comforting sights in recent memory and I didn’t know her name or voice.
Just as I contemplated this, she turned to look directly into my eyes for the first time I could ever recall, and I actually thought I heard her say my name without moving her lips or uttering an actual sound. I opened my mouth and “Gloria” came out, beyond my understanding of why. She nodded. I nearly fell back, much like the feeling of dropping out of deep sleep or dreams, but my foot stopped the psychic topple.
Sort of as a reflex, I looked toward the bus, craning my neck, trying to continue/play the normal bus rider part, as it remained at the red light, and I felt like I was a bad actor forgetting my cues. I felt like Gloria’s focus was trained on me, deep into my soul, waiting for a response. I couldn’t figure out anything appropriate to say for either of us, even acknowledgment. But her eyes, from that brief penetrative eye contact, felt almost as familiar as my own…
I then felt a tap on my left shoulder from behind. I quickly turned, my nose brushing against a man’s glasses… he stepped in front of me, a black man maybe in his 60s, with curly brown hair the same tint as his eyeglass frames.
“You know,” the man said to me, with a wise assurance that made me feel he knew what he was talking about.
“I know?” I felt I did ‘know’ but I deeply felt I wanted some kind of explanation.
“Yes we know,” the man said with a coy smile, then opened his arms wide. I paused for a second then stepped in for a hug. It felt extremely comforting, as a hug might feel with my father, if I could ever remember one.
He pulled back, still holding my arms, and whispered: “Cymatics, brother.”
A white older guy with a Santa-like beard holding a whiskey bottle stood up. “Shut the fuck up with that cryonics shit, Earl!”
I recognized the old white guy from many bus trips, always walking around with old suitcases overflowing with clothes… but I’d never seen him say a word before. Actually, out of these people, I recalled seeing him more than anyone and he was the only one that had previously stood out to me as someone I repeatedly crossed paths with in seemingly random locations.
Earl (apparently the name of the old black man) turned away and shooed his hand off toward the drunk guy, and took a seat on the bench.
“Jacob,” a familiar voice whispered off to my right side, and a man I always used to serve at Chicken Chapel shifted into my view. At least I knew he saw my nametag almost daily, even if he acted like I was no different from any of the other workers there in the four years I served him. Always Chick Deluxes with extra tomato until the new boss came and barred the employees from giving him extra tomatoes and led to the disability discrimination lawsuit of the year.
That thought then sunk in and compelled a fear that maybe this was all some devious plan of continued vengeance cooked up by his powerful Jewish father. No logic was unreasonable in this new world of madness. However, as if on another cue at this thought, he smiled a sincere seeming smile I’d never seen him show.
“You knew Chicken Chapel wasn’t the end for us.”
Us? Him and his father, I guess? Or some shadowy group of opportunistic activists and mentally disabled clients and their lawyers?
“You and me, Jake.”
“What??” I blurted. I couldn’t play my normal-guy-amidst-typical-bus-crazies part for long. “There was no ‘us’ beyond me taking your special orders and I even went behind my boss’s back to accommodate you against his idiotic rule, remember? I only knew your name because- the lawsuit!” (Which I honestly forgot at this reunion, except for his family name Eastwood).
“Christopher. But you can call me Chris. And… exactly. You were the only one who chose the human-right way over the machine-arbitrarily-dictated way. I realized we were bonded for life upon that turning point, I recognized you finally. We’ve always been a team, a complementary co-op, just have remembered at different moments. In ‘time’. Do you remember when I kicked you out of the club?”
It suddenly hit me. We had also crossed paths confrontationally on his job, roles reversed… it seemed we were destined to be these enemies-through-employment foils to each other, or something, but off the job… no reason to not get along. “I always wanted to get back at you but never connected the instances, never recognized you beyond being a bouncer…”
“I remembered you, but only after you showed your humanity, your empathy. We’re equals.”
I stood there listening intently, as if he were a mentor. His face nearly seemed to take on the features of a Native American elder, until I blinked his appearance back into then-present focus.
I then became more aware of other faces and figures around us, in addition to the “bag lady” Gloria, Earl and the drunkard. I saw a young Hispanic man, maybe my age or younger, sitting against an electrical box as he looked up at me. He also was familiar but I couldn’t quite place him. To my left I then noticed my old friend Gray walk up, with his old familiar smile but eyes that seemed vacant.
“Gray! What are you doing here?”
He laughed and shook my hand. He was in the business suit he almost always wore the last couple years I’d seen him as he made his rise in the lawyer’s world. But I remembered that distant gaze that just seemed to get more distant over the course of our fading frienship, and now it seemed more distant than ever. He just laughed, nodded, and turned right back around.
“Gray?” I watched him walk away in sort of a half-slump half-confident strut. I felt sadness, but some sort of closure… and then suddenly a presence caught my full attention from the side, where I had just been looking, but hadn’t noticed this person almost seeming to emanate a light…
I turned and it was… her. My crush, my unrequited love… my best friend who never seemed to see what I could see between us… Emily.
However, the look in her eyes was new, as if she could “see” clearly. She had a look of knowing and comfort, as if everything would be ok, between us, and with this mystifying new world. She seemed to truly recognize me and our connection for the first time. All the other people faded out of view, and within seconds I was inches in front of Emily. Our faces leaned in together and I saw all light. I fell to the ground and the two old men helped me up by each shoulder. I regained my focus and Emily was now to my right, gazing at me sort of sideways.
I saw beyond her and my old friend slash ex-gilrfriend who kept crossing paths with me, Gwyneth, came into view and walked forward, arms crossed. I suddenly could not see Emily anymore. I anxiously turned to my left where again seemingly out of nowhere, my first and most serious girlfriend, Rachel, caught my eye… the sights of both old flames stirred up all kinds of emotions in me but I was only set on returning my attention to Emily. I looked up and all around, frantic to find her.
The radiant light that I felt from Emily’s presence cleared out, and her friend then appeared where Emily had previously been, directly in front of me. I think her name was Simone… she seemed to always recognize my interest in Emily but kept her beyond arm’s length form me, while pushing her toward the campaign executives.
In a haze, she spoke “you stay away from Em… I don’t care if you’re soulmates or we’re soulmates or we’re eternal enemies but you are no good for her.”
I backed up a few feet and lost my footing again. I continued inching back as she walked toward me, crawling on my hands and elbows. I looked up at my first lover Rachel, and her eyes were filled with tears. She looked down. I tried to get up but fell once I stood on my right leg, my knee buckling.
A man picked me up from behind my arms, and put me on the bus bench. I was the only one seated now. He pointed at my knee and my elbows and pointed away. I then followed his fingers back down to my feet and I felt a major sense of relief. He nodded. I got up and felt completely healthy and flexible, knees fine.
“Why… but I mean… thank you…” I looked up to the man who picked me up, thinking it was the old white whiskey drinker… he made eye contact with me, and within seconds, with a blink, in his place stood my first best friend in Vegas, Derek… taller, beardless, generations younger than Earl, never would have compared the two, but… the same eyes.
We shared a hug and I pulled back. Once again, it was the old white man. I shook my head and kept doing whatever I could with my visual focus to try to see “correctly”. My focus came in and out but ended up being clear that it was the old man.
He lifted his cane and looked into my eyes, his wide and nearly crystal clear blue, still so youthful looking and like Derek’s. I’d never made eye contact with him before, I realized.
“You, Jacob, are ready now.”
Earl stood up from the right end of the benches. He raised his cane, gesturing toward the white man. “Jim, you can’t just come at him like that!”
Jim (apparently the name of the old white man), turned towards Earl and stomped his cane on the ground.
“Damn it Earl, why do you have to ruin my schpiel?”
“You have to be natural about it, you don’t want to lead his expectations!” Earl argued as he stood up.
“I can lead what I want, I can even mislead, you can’t stop me, and who’s gonna stop me?!” Jim ranted as he slowly struggled to sit back down. I felt compelled to help him sit but he shooed me away when I reached in.
“Jim…” Earl loudly grumbled, sounding very aggravated.
Jim went on. “There ain’t no karma, no afterlife, no spirit world, damn it. Ain’t no heaven, ain’t no virgins, ain’t no hell. No spirits are gonna get mad at me for having some fun with this kid.” He took a wine from his jacket and drank it.
“Shut it Jim! Your cynical attitude ain’t gonna get you nowhere. Look where it’s got you!”
Jim started laughing. “What, where am I??? Where are YOU?” He broke into belly laughs. I couldn’t help but smirk.
Earl stomped his cane and his feet. “You and your there’s-no-hope attitude! I can’t stand it anymore! You got nothing to live for then why- why- you old, cold, old man! Why do you think Jacob’s here??”
I turned from Earl to Jim. Then back to Earl. Then back to Jim when I realized he had stopped laughing.
“Why am I here?” I piped in.
Jim stared up at me, and swallowed. He opened his mouth but remained silent. I turned to Earl who caught my direct gaze but would not say a word.
I turned back to Jim, and he asked me when the last time my best friend Tim actually remembered me.
“Remembered me? I… I don’t…”
“When did he last call you, text you?”
“I… guess not lately. Well I… haven’t expected that anyway, since I can’t go from one day to the next without, without… my job going from janitor to file clerk. Employed to homeless. My mother living in town to living across the country. How could I expect Derek to remember my number? If I have the same number?” I pulled out my phone and started checking the settings.
“Exactly, Jacob,” Jim said as he stood up. I stopped checking my phone.
“Exactly? EXACTLY WHAT???” I had lost my patience. I composed myself, surrounded by all my bus friends.
“Your world has ended, Jacob.” Jim seemed to say this with complete knowing and authority.
I stared at Jim for a few seconds as Earl’s voice faded into my awareness.
“Damn it Jim! It’s a transition, a realignment…” It seemed like Earl was partly correcting Jim, and partly just coloring the language less harshly.
Jim piped back in, breaking his focus from my eyes again to get back to arguing with Earl. “You say potay-to, I say potah-to! His world’s over! Your world is over Jacob, kaput! You know this.”
I nodded without intending to nod.
“But now you’re here.” A smile slowly grew on Jim’s face. I just came to realize my mouth was agape. Out of the side of my eye, I saw Earl nod.
“You got that right, now he’s here.” I looked over to Earl. “You know us, you always have. You’re just now noticing us.”
I looked in between them, and realized Emily was once again there. Her eyes were fixated on mine, her mouth also agape, and she drew in a breath. Tears welled in her eyes. I just simply felt in shock, but totally at peace, and… it felt right. Finally.
“Jacob, you’ve found me. You’ve found us. We’ve… found you,” Emily whispered, but her soft voice filled my head.
I lunged forward into an embrace with her, and it almost felt as if no body was there, with my eyes closed, but she was there, fully.
I backed up and noticed the girls to the sides, my exes Gwyneth and Rachel and Emily’s friend Simone, all faded out as quickly as they appeared. I turned to the first lady, Gloria, who was smiling knowingly toward me, without eye contact, looking ahead. I returned my focus to Emily, who had her eyes dead set on me, following mine with every turn. I locked her gaze for moments lost in time. I blinked and then everything seemed brighter, and our gaze continued.
The familiar and beautifully disconcerting harmony replayed in my head, faintly…
I turned to look at the others, who all seemed casual and not looking directly at me, but attentive of me. I felt lighter and heavier at the same time, present and not there. I suddenly couldn’t see anything but Emily’s eyes and it felt a little “too real”. I felt true love but also fear of the unknown. I closed my eyes for several seconds and shook my head, loosened my body, to try to snap out of whatever this new glitch was.
I opened my eyes, regained my focus, and saw everyone still around me, though now most of them looking at me. Then I realized everyone was looking at me. And I realized they were all with me, and for the first time, I found the friends who stayed through every reality, as much as everything else around me became completely unpredictable and random in the most bewildering ways. My recent feeling of being an alien in my home world, my home town, at once became replaced by the feeling of being more at home with family than I ever was, just in a setting that would never be what I once knew.
Emily then spoke to me, for what seemed like the first time ever directly to me. “Time is the most precious commodity in the universe.”
Finally, the bus came. I stepped on, put my money in, and looked behind me. No one was there. I looked inside the bus, which was half full, but nobody I recognized.
“You getting on or what?” the bus driver impatiently asked, shutting the doors.
“Yeah, we are…”
The bus driver shook her head and I continued to my seat.
two parts I was going to put in but they may veer too far into other territory… who knows what will end up in the actual book:
A woman in a flowing dress adorned with roses on the skirt, wearing a crown, came out of the shadows and walked up to my side holding a rose. A robed man followed her. She stopped and we bit on the rose stem, and twirled around. We drifted off into opposite spiraled directions, clockwise and counterclockwise, into the shadows of the lampposts. All was dark, and she was bright. A light glowing beautiful woman, human being to the fullest, emanating all kinds of color into the dark environment. I felt a bright whitish glow around me radiate towards hers and the static cling was otherworldly. Then fans of some sort overhead started whirring, blowing cool beach-flavored air.
The man in the robe stood forth, the color of his robe unclear, seeming to continuously blur and mix.
I moved forward, feeling he threatened the woman, with a 3-pronged staff.
“Why would you use that?” I protested and he held up his hand as if to silence me.
“No, what the fuck are you doing?” I felt like I couldn’t move. Was this a dream? No. My feet clearly burned. I looked down at the hot asphalt and stepped forward, barefooted.
I tried to step forward again but couldn’t, I was slowed to a standstill. I reached out towards him, then her, but couldn’t move. She seemed to become further away, equidistant from him, forming a triangle between us. She was looking away from him as he walked toward her.
She turned towards me and smiled. He stopped, and from his robe emerged a bouqet of sunflowers. The trident staff was simply no more. He moved towards her, as if floating, his hand extending the flowers closer to her. She turned to face him and held her hands out.
A warmth swept over me, and I could feel they felt it too. The entire area, the street, all brightened up as bright as could be, until nothing else was visible except their outlines. They reached each other and held hands, as she cradled the bouqet in her arms. The flowers of the bouquet and the roses on her dress all began to float, and encompass the sight of the two.
The more “Matrixy Morpheus-Neo” type segment:
Jacob: But how come you’re all from such different backgrounds and I’ve hardly actually gotten to know any of you? What’s this binding thread?
Gloria/Iris: It’s not something physical or visible… We are all tied far beyond this 4d world… You can call us family, team, inner circle, cosmic collective, soulmates, YOU, whatever you’d like, if you need a title association. We don’t need to have anything obvious in common, but we are drawn to the same direction, meeting at a convergence point where we can hardly tell where one of us ends and the other begins.
Jacob: What about everyone else? Genetically related family… Longtime best friends… Lovers? Coworkers, politicians, employers? Are they all in different “families”?
Iris: Everyone has a soul family- we’ll use that term for now, and they come in all kinds of forms. You’d never guess who’s part of your closest loved ones’ soul families. Only you can identify, however long your soul chose to undergo the recognition and remembrance process, who is in your soul family. It only makes perfect divine sense to you and those within your inner circle, your soul family. You can’t figure out all of your best friend’s soul family members, but you might make a few astute yet lucky guesses. This, of course, is not our entire family. We reach all corners of the world, we’re simply mostly centered here in Las Vegas. It’s where we chose to create our central village. Soon, you’ll see why, and you’ll be reunited with the rest of your soul family, and we will all be together for the first time in this timeline.
Jacob: Wait, this timeline… I’m pretty sure my problem I still haven’t heard any solution for has to do with switching timelines or randomly falling through different ones… I dont know. My first best friend, whom I guess is not “one of us” since I don’t see him here but he lives here, has been telling me about this theory of tones or ah frequencies altering our “timeline” or like bumping us into new timelines. What does… Is there any way I can stick to one stable timeline? Ever again?
Iris: I think you know that our bond transcends timelines and that is related to why we are here for you now. In your greatest time of need, the kind that the usual “fixers” of your accustomed physical plane can’t “fix” in the current paradigm. You’re basically jumping around, unconsciously guided by your “music”, with time trailing behind your fast pace and no longer being perceivable by you in a linear fashion. Your friends and blood family may seem oblivious to and controlled autonomously by these reality shifts, because they are still in mostly linear time (with much smaller less frequent timeline shifts and glitches), and their linear perceptions of you continue as if nothing changed… Except for your increasingly weird appearance of behavior… By now they may have dismissed it all as a mental breakdown you are going through in every version, and we understand how profoundly this has alienated and isolated you. And in ways they are right in quietly diagnosing you of total breakdown from their detached and limited observation points outside your sphere.
Jacob: Ok ok my sphere, my loved ones are detached observation points, I’m misdiagnosed without knowing I was diagnosed- this is all gonna take a while to absorb, I’m still trying to figure out if this is a magic bus stop and if the bus actually like teleported or just appeared in my broken head or what. I’m sorry it’s hard to make any sense of anything right now. Ever, anymore.
Iris: Yes, we’re here for you and we are patient, as patient as you are, beneath the chaotic dust cloud created by your ego’s most desperate fight for survival in your entire journey, throwing up all its defenses against the incomprehensible higher self comes closer to your primary awareness; takes the pilot’s seat of consciousness- when you your higher self tames your ego and keeps it in a minimally basic functionality seat of macro-focused adaptive survival mechanisms. You’re not far off and it’s impossible for us to tell you how it will play out or what you will experience, because none of us have been in your unique and highly important position, and you need to discover for yourself what you are here to learn and accomplish, the way your self-designed blueprint lays out. Who knows if you’ll remember the blueprint once you realize what it comes down to. Remembrance is a level we all yearn for, perhaps the only essence just out of reach that we may feel indefinable frustration or longing for beyond our 3d/4d selves. We know, we feel that it’s attainable if only we unlock our next plane ascension within this pivotal lifetime.
Jacob: Oh… Um ok next plane ascension, got it… But wait, why is there a deadline of this lifetime? Don’t you all transcend all physical planes, all timelines? How many levels can there be?
Iris: As we said, our bond, our soul family transcends all linear measurements of our travels through space, time, densities and star clusters- no we’re not getting into that advanced education yet- but as individual souls still assigned to these human body vessels, we have individual relatively “human” missions and needs and desires, who may feel a little more at peace than most standard young souled Earthers because we have our egos in check. It’s entertaining and cute, like watching a toddler play a miniature piano and then push it into the wall because it’s not making the tunes he wants it to make, watching these “grown adults” naively try to shove their ego into hiding or battle its aggression thus attacking themselves and adding strength and resolve to their parasitic but perfectly natural and vital egos. Without any ego, the human could not survive long surrounded by millions of ego shells containing their human counterparts.
Jacob: Ok I don’t know if you stole any or all of that from the Matrix or maybe One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, but I’m pretty sure all of it is pulled from your favorite movies. I like those cerebral kind too. But this… No thank you I’d rather be in an air conditioned movie theater with kids yelling obscenities at the fantasy hero who keeps making stupid decisions until he saves the day. I’m no hero.
Iris: All in due time, Jacob… Close your eyes.
Jacob: Are you still gonna be here when I open them?
Iris: Yes, we will “still be here” from the moment you close your eyes and forever after.
Hesitantly, Jacob shuts his eyes gently. Iris touches the center of his forehead just above his nose, his “third eye”, and his face starts twitching in a million little spots rapidly. His eyeballs dart around beneath his eyelids, as Iris maintains a calm, still, serene closed eye demeanor in front of his face. Her hand appears to shimmer subtly, and she directs him to “take a breath, inhale…”
He inhales deeply and she removes her hand slowly. “Now exhale… And open your eyes.”
He exhales and opens his eyes, seeming clearer than ever, almost crystalline… and the soul relatives are all gone.
Jacob: “Oh no… Shit. I knew it.”
Iris: “Knew what? That’s your trusty ego talking… Told ya we’d still be here.”
Jacob sort of makes a noise like a cough/gasp/laugh and looks around before closing his eyes. A huge smile sweeps his face, his biggest since his “normal life”.
Jacob: Well ain’t that something… Friends in my head… Yeah yeah ego, whatever ya say, I’m already starting to see how you have way less use here than in my “previous” life. But I think we can reach an understanding.
Iris: But remember Jacob- never underestimate or challenge your ego. Things could get ugly.
Jacob: Got it, so I guess you’ll be like my support group voices in my head? If I need an intervention you’ll just all meet up in my mind and talk sense into me? Can I ever put you on mute?
Iris: You decide when you want our help, when you want to communicate with us. We will sort of reinforce and backup your conscience, which is also tied in with our collective conscience. This links straight up with our larger umbrella star family, if you will, which inhabits at least 33 measurable dimensions, derived from a single ethereal heart-mind. All of our family’s souls originate from this central “organ”. Before this, we can not explain in any language humans can comprehend, verbal, visual or otherwise. Patience…

How Deep does the Dream go: Jason Bourne, a cop shoots a 4 year old at the Bellagio, and the mystery of 2016’s reality

Being an extra on the set of Jason Bourne (part 5 in the conspiracy thriller series starring Matt Damon, coming out this Friday, July 29th) was an experience unlike any other movie set I’d ever been on. It was an escape from reality, but somehow, the darkest side of reality (from my perspective) came and crashed through the movie in a profoundly perplexing way, making me question the nature of reality and perception more than anything before, yet also confirming my evolving perceptions of reality and our roles as creators more than any experience in my lifetime.

2016, the year that had been cosmically winking at me and maybe you for “years”, entered my experience of existence with three totally unique unexpected but appropriate “real world” opportunities… one being a “normal” job that fulfilled my long-held desire to experience the biggest technology convention in the world, CES; another being something expected on some levels, discovering one “last” presidential campaign that seemed spontaneous and radical and showed legitimacy in my personal interaction with it, as short-lived as it was (the John Mcafee campaign, continuing the high-tech thread here, hmm); the third being involved as an Extra in “accidentally” deeper ways than most can think of for a cerebral sci-fi metaphysical mindbender and who knows if anyone else will get my drift of *why* this was so bizarre, beyond the simple “wtf”… but still, I must document what felt like a mystery so revealing, so true in its deception, to frame a piece of the puzzle that I will never forget, and maybe even never totally get. This is where I lose some “audience” but keep the audience that I know will stay…

Since then, this bizarre year called 2016 has driven this question of “what is real” to the forefront from the small to the enormous scale. With Donald Trump being one of the two options for the next president, and the current DNC being as politically farcical and shameful as possible (perhaps spelling the end to the two-party system), can anyone tell the difference between movies and reality anymore?

I’ll just briefly/carefully touch on the context of what I knew about the movie, so as not to give anything that seems integral to the plot (even though the director told us we were in the most important scene in the movie), enough to give some impression of why exactly the “trippy” occurrence bridging this movie and the “real world” was so mind-blowing.

An old friend who had recently reappeared in my life just before the shoot, as if a quantum particle coming back into existence by observation, shares a similar worldview of the endless possibilities of manifestation, and we shared some history of co-creating and shaping reality in ways that most people may find delusional… but we had each other’s far-out-there minds to feed off of and build upon. So we basically figured we manifested ourselves into this movie, and also being the multi-pronged activists that we are, we decided we’d manifest something truly profound and for the greater good, along with the thousands of other actors/crew/co-creators in this movie, via this movie when it is released… as if the movie is some sort of a conduit into a new step of the shift in reality… and the themes surrounding us in the form of giant lit signs, our own “badges”, logos/cryptic X’s and O’s, pieces of the script playing out in front of us, etc. made this all seem to fit into the puzzle perfectly, and ever more mysteriously and mystically.

I’ll skip the details that might possibly get me in trouble, but we *think* we were playing hacker conventioneers, and there is some kind of major program at the center of this relating to… dreams. If you look up some AI stuff and maybe “dream deeply” and stuff of that nature, you might get more of an idea, or just go see the movie. I have no idea if the movie has to do with AI (Artificial Intelligence), but considering what the series has been about so far and Matt Damon returning to this world he hasn’t been to in about decade, this would not be a surprise. So, basically, we gave a shot at hacking reality, something not that new to us, and most likely many of you… even my shirt was a trip in itself, and I don’t think I’m giving anything integral to the movie away by saying I was only one of two of the 5000-ish extras given an orange shirt to wear, with the name “Fedora” on it. I didn’t know Fedora was directly a hacking-related term until someone told me a few days later. We certainly have our dark humor, being the reality-jokesters we are, and threw in some “jokes” like “what if the shooting scene goes live”, “what if this is a false flag”, as well as further “inside jokes” and so on. No we did not want any of that to happen and decided this was all a part of a new step in our evolution, even if it just seems like another typical action movie with a bit of a conspiracy bent.

Anyway… I’ll get to the weird part now. I’ll skip the little fun anecdotes like how I kept ending up in scenes right next to Matt Damon, standing with him as he got into character (in a scene we weren’t “supposed” to be in) and trying not to bump him over, and seeing his bullet casings bounce on the floor next to me, and our group of crazy-seeming spiritual activist dancey types creating energy tornadoes waking everybody in the Holding room up and altering the course of events beyond our background roles… and get to this point. In the midst of our all-day shoots, after many very beyond-normal experiences every single day, we finally got to the big action scene, running from a public shooting taking place in the large room we were all an attentive audience in.

This was my first mass hysteria running scene ever, and as the unit directors tried to motivate us by telling us we’re running from f*cking crazed shooters basically (following a pivotal scene with a cryptic and highly conspiratorially-intriguing speech), I threw in a barely-noticed sarcasm that came straight from my activist subconscious (I’d been quite burned out from activism at the time though), “or we can act like the cops are shooting at us”… and then while running threw in a few also barely-noticeable quips like “fuck, the cops are shooting!” to help at least my motivation in running for my life.

So, we got our 7+ takes of running through many corridors done and were all pretty exhausted yet exhilarated after a few hours. In the line to check out/change out of our costumes, I heard something that was part expected, part dreaded, and huge part oh fuck this is really happening (is it?? yes it is, holy shit). A couple extras in the line next to me, in the middle of all these regular-world but offbeat colorful actor-fueled conversations, read their phone and said to the person in front of me, “did you know there was a real shooting at Bellagio?”

Bellagio is two hotels up from the hotel we were shooting (the movie) at, Aria. It is also where night scenes for the movie (I was in the day scenes) were shot, of the intense SWAT chase scene. But on this night, there happened to be no outdoors strip filming. I listened on.

“A real shooting? Not part of the movie?” the girl in front of me responded…
Someone else chimed in… something to the effect of, “yup, apparently someone really got shot in front of the Bellagio water fountains”…

And then, the lady whom I first heard the news from, reported, “it says it was an officer-involved shooting”… my reality-comfort-zone heart dropped even more at this point and I didn’t know how to handle this. I texted my friend who was already checked out, hands shaking and vision blurring in and out, hardly able to type words out.

(VICE article: Cops Wound Bystander While Shooting at Man Waving Gun on the Las Vegas Strip)

I managed to get through the rest of the line before the conversational freak-out with my friend and our other friends on set (running into them was also a synchronicity like none other I’d ever experienced on any set), and soon after separating from the crowd, my friend and I decided to conduct our own independent investigation at the hotel scene of/by the crime. And of course, a sign displaying “Bellagio” had conveniently hung over our heads at the hotel/parking garage doors, leading us to the shuttle going from Aria to Bellagio.

On this shuttle, one of the mag-levitated rail trams the strip is known for, we were in a deeply quiet and observant state, as European tourists around us started talking about the Bourne movie and the strip being shut down for it. We couldn’t resist but to chime in.

Either I or my friend commented that we were coming from the set, and asked “do you know about the actual shooting that just happened?”

They seemed to think we were still talking about the movie, and there was some confusion in our communications. But after a while, at least some of the people around us seemed to figure out we were talking about a REAL shooting that took place in front of the Bellagio. They still were confused and surprised, and hadn’t heard anything about it. They went back to talking about the movie and asking us about the movie, rather than curiosity about the officer-involved shooting.

Also on the way, we saw video that seemed like it could’ve been straight out of a movie on its own, adding to the eeriness (another sidenote, the music played here, a song I hadn’t heard played at the fountains in years but used in their early commercial ads, Andrea Bocelli’s “Con Te Partiro”- also my favorite song used there, well aside from Frank Sinatra’s “Luck Be a Lady”- was also the song in the background of a police brutality clip I used in a compilation video a year before…):

As we got to the Bellagio, the place was packed, most people walking towards the inner parts of the casino as we went against the tide towards the front fountain area… and we felt a palpable energy of “business as usual” that did not align at all with the activity going on in our minds/hearts. We briefly “interviewed” a few more people, and nobody knew about the actual shooting- only about the movie shoot.

We reached the outdoors area where the fountains are and saw that the driveway entrances were blocked off and nobody could reach the front of the fountains, confirming that the shooting actually took place there. All we could really see of that stretch of sidewalk usually teeming with tourists were police lights and a blocked street.

We walked as close as we could to the barricades, manned by hotel security, not the actual police. We asked one worker if he knew what happened, and he couldn’t give us any information. I asked if he knew it was an officer-involved shooting, that the police shot someone, and he said something to the effect of “something like that, but we can’t give any details”. As my phone camera died suddenly from 10ish percent, we decided to stay by where they were redirecting pedestrian traffic, at least a few hundred feet from the sidewalk where the shooting took place, and conducted a few more interviews. People were either shocked or didn’t comprehend/believe that it was actually cops who shot someone in real life, but then one female apparently did know it was real and gave us her understanding of the story.

She told us, from what she heard, that a man was waving a gun around across the street at Bally’s, threatening people, and then cops came and after he wouldn’t lay down the weapon, they shot him. Now by this point, we had read online that it was actually a *bystander* who was shot, not anyone with a gun. And the guy going with hus gun from Bally’s to Bellagio then getting shot also sounded a bit strange, but this girl heard what she heard and it was at least a little refreshing to hear someone who knew it was real life and not a movie.

Soon, I heard that it was a juvenile bystander who got shot, and I made a darkly humored comment that “juvenile, but how old… what if it was just like a young teenager, like 12 or 13?” I thought any dark potentiality was possible by this point even though I really didn’t want to believe this was real at all. Soon, I would find out the victim was actually FOUR YEARS OLD. More on that in a bit.

Going back inside, surrounded by thousands of people who knew about a movie being shot outside, which we were in, and being two of the seemingly few people on the strip who actually knew there was an actual live shooting, by a cop, upon someone innocent, and informing people about this who mainly seemed to just want to continue about their lovely trips getting little glimpses of a movie they saw nothing of the actual insides of… really took a toll on our psyches, and was a spiritual experience like none before.

We sat side by side on a little raised stone type thing just off the floor of the indoors conservatory exhibit area (Chinese New Year-themed, where I saw the river/water theme explained which definitely felt relevant- not just from the Bellagio fountains but also a theme I later discovered to be recurring in the Bourne series), and about an hour or more passed filled mostly with silence, profound existential tears, and confirmation between each other that this was really happening and above all, or so it seemed, manifestation is a VERY powerful thing, and the universe has a really dark, twisted sense of “humor?”, or plays on reality. Not to say we created this by joking that there’d be some false flag attack or active shooting to come out of this movie, but this felt like the weight of a million crazy events suddenly thrown on us to sift through and find some kind of light. There seemed to be some kind of lesson that transcended just about all of physical reality, but what??

Now in the days and weeks that followed, when we learned more facts, shit just got even more overwhelmingly mind-freaking. It turned out that the “juvenile” who was shot because the cop missed the supposedly armed suspect was only 4 years old…. and I learned this only by reading a sentence that mentioned the two people shot, as basically a minor detail mentioned in a follow-up news story based on their press conference. They said it was not a life-threatening injury, and someone else was grazed by a bullet. Still, not one bullet hit the guy the cop was actually aiming at.

(also from that article: “Many thought they were walking past a segment of shooting for the new “Bourne” movie, which had been filming on the Strip earlier that week, but production was not scheduled for Friday night, Hadfield said on the scene.”)

And, to play into the Bourne trippyness even more, for several days the news said Metro could not figure out the identity of the suspect, and was asking the public for help. Yup. (Police: need public assistance in identifying Strip shooting suspect) Well he eventually was identified as Kahleal Black, and here is how he appeared in court (why? I have no idea either…):


We did some more private investigating into the suspect and the rabbit hole just went deeper, such as seeing his cover photo was of the Bellagio fountains since at least the year leading up to the shooting, though it was a pre-Aria picture (where the movie was shot), and the suspect was someone from Texas who apparently had a fondness with visiting Vegas… and of course, he had “mental illness”. I won’t get deep into the weird details of that arm of our “investigation” though… I think you all get the point, this was freaking weird.

So…. what the f*** did we learn?

BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU JOKE ABOUT. (especially when doing it with other powerful co-creating beings)

THIS REALITY HAS BECOME MORE CARTOONISH THAN THE CRAZIEST CARTOONS. (again, just look at the election- this proved it on a personal level though)

THAT WHICH YOU OBSESS OVER WILL HIT YOU CLOSER TO HOME THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE (since then, and before then, I have pulled back from anti-police brutality activism, pretty much the cornerstone of my activist pursuits- but my care and concern has not dwindled whatsoever…. just the amount of energy I put into it, which I realize is a more delicate matter than I ever truly realized, beyond words- and has been one of the biggest inner philosophical dilemmas of my lifetime)

So, stop imagining the worst that can happen. We know how bad things can get. Don’t consume yourself with what you hate, with what you believe or know must be stopped. Have the awareness, help others in their awakenings, don’t let the light be extinguished by the dark… but try not to spend so much time trying to spread your light in the dark that you become it.

As one of my favorite philosophers Friedrich Nietzsche said (and I of course have mixed feelings on this quote, while it’s fitting that an existentialist’s quote pops into my head concerning a very existential experience)- “Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

And, in my opinion, even in the darkest of times, the jokester of reality can lighten things up a bit…

Oh yeah, so what of what we “implanted” into the movie in terms of consciousness? We’ll see how things feel when the movie comes out… whether it’s the darkest of times, the best of times, the end of times or the most mundane times, you can always turn the Deep Dream into a lucid dream or wake up from the dream completely. One thing I now know is the line between illusion and reality is completely illusory. What that means in the context of this movie, I guess you’ll have to see the movie to find out. I have a feeling just the surface of this AI-ish trip has been scratched. 😉

*No I have not been paid to advertise this movie…


“Remembering everything doesn’t mean you know everything.”

“Jesus Christ, it’s Jason Bourne!”


Now, a couple images that might seem unrelated, and very well could be, but I’ll throw them out here for your subconscious/intuitive discernment…..