When I finished my tour of the western United States last fall, a journey for direction, I set my intentions to be of Service wherever I traveled next . And I also decided to forego such long distances in the future and to keep my journeys narrowed radically to solely the Sonoran Desert (southern Arizona).
(Since I began this site, I’ve become a full-time RVer, no longer owning a home, but living simply in a small travel trailer and now a camper.)
My first service work…
…(late September – early October) was a week spent with my old best friend from grade school and high school, helping her move (we’re both 65). It was a good week, with a lot of physical labor and strategic planning, and everything proceeded as planned.
Interrupted (to jump back to Service, scroll below to the next heading)
On my way there, and on October 7, on my way back to my storage lockers, I experienced something I’d never experienced before in all my previous 7,000 miles (including steep Colorado mountains) – my trailer fishtailed lightly – twice – on flat land! Both times I thought, “I’ll have to take the trailer back to the mechanic who repacked my wheel bearings.”
Then, forty miles from home, my trailer began fishtailing wildly on a downhill grade, and my skills at pulling out of fishtails (only needed twice in all my Colorado driving, and done easily) could not pull me out of that event. The trailer spun my truck around and then tipped over, pulling over the truck too, and me in it, of course. Both vehicles were totaled, and I walked away with a concussion and messed-up spine which disabled me in various ways for months.
For those who might not understand fishtailing, it happens going downhill, when a trailer is heavier than the tow vehicle. That I was on flat land made absolutely no sense, so I tried to generate ideas for what might be going on, and wondered whether the wheel bearing work I’d just had done had been the cause. So, I hired a mechanic whose life career has been investigating highway accidents – and he found the trailer wheels spinning freely, eliminating that first theory. He did, however, find something he said he’d never seen before.
But let me back up. Regarding the vehicles’ weights, I’d just had the truck and trailer professionally weighed, and my truck was significantly heavier than the trailer, as is proper. So the usual cause of fishtailing made no sense.
The mechanic’s discovery was something so confounding that he spent two and a half additional hours asking me questions, studying his photos, sending me his photos, and brainstorming with me what might have caused what he said was “something I’ve never seen in my entire career, and I can’t imagine how it even occurred.” The outer rim of my wheel, that helps hold the tire in place, was bent backward all the way around the wheel.
I’ll spare you the details of our conversation, as we reached no conclusion that made sense to either of us, but I’d like to share an incident that occurred 6 weeks earlier.
On August 21, during the Total Solar Eclipse, I was on a mountain side with my truck parked down below, mostly hidden from my view by a large bushy tree. At almost the exact moment of the eclipse totality, a truck pulled up behind my truck about ten feet away, and I heard a woman’s voice calling loudly, “Yoohoo! Yoohoo! Are you there?” I remained silent. She repeated her calls and I remained silent. (I’ve been so often harassed for the last 15 years, I seem to be a “targeted individual,” and the people harassing me seem to have an interest in the dark occult, so this moment of the New Moon/Eclipse is significant.)
Then what appeared to be a woman dressed in an old-fashioned full-length dress began walking laboriously from the visiting truck toward my truck. “She” seemed to be dragging a very heavy boot, as if it weighed 40 pounds, and I thought immediately that it was probably a man dressed in a skirt to hide some heavy tool balanced on his foot. That’s what it looked like to me, as the person heaved one foot again and again across the short distance.
“Get away from my truck!” I called loudly, but the person kept looking straight ahead and didn’t acknowledge me. When that person had disappeared behind the bushy tree, the woman’s voice, from who knows where, called up again, “We’re heading to the store and want to meet our camp neighbors. Do you want anything from the store?” I responded again, yelling, “Get away from my truck.”
The person in the dress stayed hidden for about ten minutes, while I considered my options. I could get off the mountain quite easily and run over there in a minute or two, but then what? They were obviously lying and up to something, and if I confronted them, how would they act?
I’ve been a conscious and resistant subject of mind control for many years now, logging hundreds of weird events in my life with evidence including doctor visits, police reports, photographs, witnesses, etc. My harassment has been extremely varied, and while some of it is clearly related to programming (involving implants, leaving electroshock burns, etc), but much has been of a simple social harassment type. This event, I assumed, was probably putting some sort of tracking device on my truck – or so I told myself, fully knowing that tracking devices can be easily attached and not need heavy tools – but theories, even bad ones, can be comforting. Also, I didn’t want to leave the moment of the eclipse totality, and was angry that I’d been harassed at this special moment. I also wondered what they might do to me if I did confront them personally. Would they hurt me? Taser me? Make me amnesic? I’ve been Tasered at least three times in my life (for which I have photographic proof). I decided to sit still.
After the person had walked back in the same manner, and the truck had driven away, I decided my long-awaited day had been ruined and I returned to my vehicle. I made a cursory, useless glance under the truck, thinking, if I find something, then what? Remove it only to have them replace it again? I knew I was tracked and harassed regularly, and there seemed to be nothing I could do about it. And a tracker seemed totally redundant, so I forgot about it. My mistake, I guess.
I drove around the entire campground and found not a single camp they might have left, so their story was an obvious lie.
Six weeks later, the day of the crash, two truckers were nearby and came immediately to my help. One of them I saw spraying fire retardant on the bottom of my truck – which I think may have only been a ruse for being there – and also reaching out and touching other things underneath.
The electrical mechanism that controls the trailer’s brake is what might have been used to control a fishtail event, even on flat land – if the wires to each side of the trailer can be controlled independently. Were those two events on flat land (truly flat – between Phoenix and Tucson each time) trial runs for the crash? And having been tested successfully twice, someone then remote controlled my electronic trailer brakes (attached to the truck) to cause the trailer to fishtail so wildly? And that trucker might have been involved and had the job of removing evidence (without a big heavy tool)? I don’t know.
That’s my best theory at this time. And no one else including the mechanic who spent his life investigating highway accidents, can come up with any better theory.
The last six months have been spent healing from my injuries, mostly from my concussion or “mild traumatic brain injury.” (Mild traumatic? Yes, that’s the real diagnosis.) I could feel my brain swelling whenever I moved, so recovery was difficult, living alone, and in a new location with few friends. But I did it. And I bought a new/old truck and new/old camper, both older, and more decrepit than my last set-up, and the camper is far smaller. And I like the smaller size living space, and think I can keep this “till I die.”
My insurance company (Liberty Mutual) has been torturing me with nonsensical reasons for not covering my losses, but that’s another story. Thank Goodness for my family’s assistance. (I live on $621/month Social Security.)
Now I’m back to my original goal: to be of Service – Service with a capital S, for Service directed by Spirit.
Currently, I’m caring for the daughter of a former partner, whom I lived with 12 years ago. She is a brilliant young woman, once watched by numerous colleges for her athletic abilities, now in recovery from five years of addiction and living on the street.
Believe it or not, she was living with me in my tiny camper for a couple weeks since April 21st – though she finally regained possession of her car and in a few short days was able to make it into a space to sleep in! So it’s been over 2 weeks that we’ve found ways to make my little camper comfortable for two, and we both still cook and eat here – and are still happily getting along, experiencing amazing changes in my young friend’s life.
Her addictions are fading away, thanks to healthy food and living in nature.
It’s a testimony to Spirit that she’s doing so well in close quarters, and we’re actually enjoying our time together. I believe she’s in full recovery. She says this time with me has been the first time in over five years that she’s gone so long without any panic attacks – and she’s “clean”! We’re both super grateful.
In the near future we’ll get her established away from the drug world, for which we’re working out the fine details now.
Our “Sunday service” last morning wason Mount Lemmon above Tucson. I’ll keep you all apprised – as much as possible while respecting my lovely friend’s privacy.
PS If the mind control harassment story makes you think you don’t belong here, please reconsider.
I DO hope that mind control subjects will find help and support here, but I also hope that others will also find the legal support they need here to defend their religious liberties regarding their health – and in so doing, also support those of us who are dealing with other, more insidious challenges. We need all the uplifting we can get! Thanks.
July 25, 2018 at 2:26 pm
I’m sorry to report that my young friend reconnected with former friends who are still addicts, and after 7 weeks with me, she left. She had wanted to earn money, so committed to cook for a long weekend at a church camp retreat, with me as her kitchen cohort. Then she freaked out and drove away, leaving me to cook alone for the weekend. I considered leaving too, but I’ve never abandoned a job like that, and it seemed I might be chasing someone who was doubting her ability to stay clean – and only she can keep herself clean, not me. She stayed in touch with me for a couple weeks until I declined one time to send her money. I’m in touch with her mother who hears from her now and then, and I’ve learned she’s getting help in the social services of another state – good for her to be away from her former network here, but difficult for all of us who care for her.