Ethiopian slave girl

Accustomed to recognition and honor

now eating off others’ plates and keeping generally small, though her voice inside raged at the shock of being taken.

Once entitled to respect on the basis of birthright, respected in her community for the sake of the family lineage.

Nothing remains of that entitlement. No more community, no more family. No one who looks like her, who speaks her language. Her language now voiceless, her tongue itself taken.

She takes in everything. No need for speech, only spoken to in commands requiring immediate obedience, she is a reflexive, taut-stringed wire of attuned energy, focused on the dynamics in the room dominated by those men of consequence.

This cat-like poise at all times, even while sleeping, displaces her ego. She is a servant and finds it relaxing not to be required to think, only to come when called and do as you are told.

Her ego was ever too proud and haughty to be displaced as easily as that! She compartmentalizes, of course, her body becoming the lapdog of the master, jumping when he calls (jumping out of the way when he is intemperate). Her mind watches, notices, records and counts every weakness and strength of all-male bonds. Her mind loses its own language and lets the rhythm and noise of this other language they speak, how they pause, how they gallop, how they slow walk back and forth, the music of their language without meaning.

I insert the captive slave girl into the room where Aristotle taught Alexander and see her as a silent–mute, in fact, her tongue cut out–witness, and a sponge for all they discuss, except for her pure outrage at the fact of them carrying on discourse of that nature anyway, while she worked as their pet, their little robot programmed to flinch at their slightest glance. The conversation she witnesses is the equivalent of an Aristotle tuturing an Alexander, in another lifetime, in the not so distant future, on a spaceship, learning the rules of commerce in the Greater Community.

I share with a friend who also peers deeply into story and legend for heroic archetypes. We ask, who is she? Who will she become as the centuries go by?


She witnesses this long conversation

Greater relationships yet undiscovered

While the mute slave-girl Maia takes in the wisdom from the objectivist’s school, she is unaware that her thoughts are not contained within her own little head. She is aware how they churn relentlessly, not merely whirling but working, working, working, mostly reactively to what she hears and experiences from the two men and her position as their servant.

Her thoughts are shared by other women, other places, also captive and contemplative:

  • a queen who watches from her prison tower as her countrymen are defeated against a cunning army.

  • daughter of decadence at a time of revolution, also in prison
  • the Cassandras of today seeing all things in revolution now


Hermes (Mercury in Latin?) is the trickster, the Machiavellian, the Gemini? speaks out of both sides of his mouth, the trader, (trump), always angling for the win, the advantage (resource collectors). Smart to take care of his security by wheeling and dealing but everything is a game, every relationship a trade for advantage. Somehow redeemed, though, through influence of Maia?

The meaning of life, said the one who was winning, is to die with the most toys.

You have got to be carefully taught.
Everything you do is a practice. Hermes represents cunning, intelligence, discernment and command of a situation.

Life is a poker game.

The thief in “All Along the Watchtower.”

Above All Else Keep the Circle Unbroken and “You’ll Be Fine”

Since we are all here on the same sacred rendezvous with the Message and the Messenger, I commemorate this the last photo that will ever contain Marshall Vian Summers in a public setting.

The Messenger will no longer have the freedom to enjoy Encampment if he cannot feel secure about his health and exposure to what he sees as clearly enough identified in the New Message as pandemic of the order of early, fast and hard Great Waves of change.

Count the people who will not ever meet him face to face. Completely unknown, unless we now pivot fast to a new world where we must understand the life of the Messenger in our world is the most important commodity, or accommodation to the conditions of living in Separation.
We need him on Earth and his physical vessel is at risk, though every source of Knowledge in the physical at every dimension has been attended to that has been able to be addressed.
The warning, the blessing and the preparation have been given to preserve the life of this Messenger, to outweigh the heaviness of the drags on movement to a new world that requires everyone to give up their prejudices, their own agenda, their antagonisms against each other that boil down to name-calling, typing, profiling others by our own blind spots, not seeing the big picture that all humanity is at risk and one human here is going to make a big difference as long as he lives.

A Near Death Experience

She died in 2003 from a fatal heart attack caused by deep personal shock . Everything Katy knew was destroyed: family, community and church.

In her death, she was greeted by a receiving line of spiritual masters and multiple interfaith religious hierarchies who carried her collapsed body through vast swirling worlds of bright white light. As she began to awake in the arms of these magnificent, loving beings, she felt a flush of gentle flowing kindness reconnecting the torn, subjective tissues of her heart.

She was taken to an enormous whirlpool of energy – its core, a living void, pulsing steady sounds of strengthening harmonies encouraging her to live and breathe. Its outer perimeter poured forth thunderous, dynamic waterfalls of generosity as embryonic waves of love and mercy were rebuilding the intimacies of her heart. She soon realized she stood in the holy flow of our Creator – its Heart, its Love and Kindness.

She was then given a choice, to return to her present life on earth, or to continue home into the Light of God. A single mother at the time, she chose to return to earth for her young son. Upon her decision, she then heard this loving being of merciful generosity speak:

“Take my heart and give to others what I have given to you. Be the direction of your own Spirit.”


Here’s how she described it:

I awoke in a dream greeted by a vast receiving line of Angelic Hierarchies standing in a golden temple of white light. One I personally knew since the age of four, embraced me as I fatally collapsed. Holding my lifeless body close to his heart, he leaned over and with great tenderness kissed my cheek, then touched my spiritual eye with the pulse of his heart.

He then carried me through vast swirling worlds of bright white light along a pulsing artery of sparkling blue sound. Spiritual Masters within the angelic hierarchies very quiet in nature would appear periodically in subjective study of my lifeless body. Each visited upon me the gentle mercies of their particular spirit, as I gradually awakened into a flush of gentle kindness flowing reconnecting the torn subjective tissues of my heart.

This Great Master of the Heart then stood me upright, and breathed into me a vast wind of centered purpose. In this I revived and experienced the synergy of a vast mercy positioning me in direct observance of an enormous whirlpool of energy.

I observed its core to be a living void, pulsing steady sounds of strengthening harmonies rebuilding the intimacies of my heart while encouraging me to live and breathe. Its outer perimeter poured forth thunderous dynamic waterfalls of sparkling generosity strengthening my outer form in the regions of the subtle bodies healing the agony and despair.

I surrendered into the primal magnetic resonance of its most precious glory, realizing the cellular realignment occurring distributed itself as the embryonic waves of love and mercy. I did not resist, thus, found myself being carried deeper into the core of this most beloved being transforming me into the heart of its truth. This Spiritual Guardian of my transformation, realizing the intent of my surrender, reached out and kindly pulled me back whispering, “no, its not time, listen.” Then this enormous being of merciful generosity spoke to me:

“Take my heart and give to others, what I have given to you.

Be the direction of your own Spirit.” 


An Account of Greater Coordination

The Greater Coordination

I first became aware of synchronies in about 1996 whilst reading a book called the Holographic Universe written by Michael Talbot. In this book Michael wrote about synchronicities and one day, whilst reading this book, a sales man knocked at my door offering to sell me double glazed windows for my house…he introduced himself as Michael Talbot.

In 1997 I learnt remote viewing with David Morehouse in Ipswich, UK. This had somehow opened me up further to the reality of synchronicities which were now becoming a daily occurrence. I began to accept them as being a normal part of life, however, I could never quite see the purpose of having them and I wondered, as crazy as this might sound, if they might point to the presence of a morphogenetic field which God had included in the universe to allow for synchronous events to occur for the purposes of evolution.

I joined the police in March 2002 and after about 8 months I was dispatched to a job single crewed. A young female wanted to report harassment by her ex-partner. I sat in her living room at one end of the sofa as she sat opposite me in an armchair and explained her predicament. At the opposite end of the sofa was a male who appeared to be sleeping. I could not see his face because he had his arm up over his head, all I could see of him was a ‘spider web’ tattoo on his right elbow. I indicated to the female as if asking who the male was. She stated that it was an old friend but she couldn’t understand why he had come around and was sleeping in her living room.

After taking a report from the young female I returned to the police station. I sat in the report writing room catching up with my paperwork when a colleague entered the room and announced that she was looking for a high risk missing person who was intent on killing himself with a drug overdose. She seemed quite anxious and described the male’s appearance, she also described him as having a ‘spider web’ tattoo on his right elbow. I said “I just was just with this male, he is in a house at the bottom of this street”. My female colleague looked at me with a surprised look, she then looked at me seriously and stated “you better not be playing with me”, I assured her that I was serious and I agreed to take her to the house to locate this male. I explained that the male appeared to be sleeping on the sofa and so we called for the paramedics to meet us at the address.

We were joined by a few more colleagues and we arrived at the same time as the paramedics. We entered the premises and found the male collapsed and unconscious in the middle of the living room floor. The paramedics administered a naloxone injection to reverse the effects of a drugs overdose, the male regained consciousness and was then taken to hospital.

I received a few strange looks from my colleagues after this occurrence. A couple of them said “what are the chances of that happening?” and I have often wondered that myself. The town I work in has a population of about 230,000. I happened to be in the right town, the right house, at the right time, the right day and saw exactly what I needed to see…the ‘spider web’ tattoo on his right elbow. There are so many other variables which could also be brought into this that the minds boggles.

I remember listening to Marshall Vian Summers talk about the Greater Coordination which is occurring in this world and the universe at large. It is what brought us into the world and what continues to work through us whilst we are here. The Greater Coordination is the work of God, something which would be impossible for us to understand. Marshall invited us to try and imagine the Greater Coordination required for an entire city, this level of complexity is something only God could achieve.

I do not know why this male needed to stay alive but I do know from this, and many other similar occurrences that I have experienced during times of need, that the Greater Coordination is real, as told in The New Message from God brought to us by Marshall Vian Summers. I am no longer puzzled about the nature and purpose of synchronous events in my life as I was back in 1996.

Nasi Novare Coram

Freedom Fighter’s Dream of Our Future

I am a freedom fighter. 25 years ago, I had a short but vivid dream that shook me to the core. We (all men) went to out tin shacks at the end of the work (slave) day. Four men to a shack, (the rows of shacks were further down the road at the bottom of this drawing) sweaty and dirty, we had our food rations, some beverage and crashed on our sleeping pads.

The labors that we did, how we lived, our corporate masters, where are the women? We had never seen a woman……. none of this was thought about or questioned. Any other life, freedom, was a unknown concept, as if we had for generations been born into the mining world run by the controllers. There was no other lifestyle to compare to and have regrets about not having.

This lifetime, when I was 12, one of the big orange circular ones was over my house. I’ve spent 50 years deciphering through the quagmires of disinformation and information, learning of the bigger picture.

They will leave this world raped and destitute a thousand years from now if their temptations and subtle takeover methods are not recognized and resisted with a vigilance.

You are being attacked in ways that you do not know are attack. You are being acclimatized to acquiesce to their presence. Your “controllers” of your world are being led to lead you into a technologically controlled collective.

The controllers of the controllers are not human. The knowledge of freedom and creativity will be eradicated, a lost memory of the distant past….

but there is a slim chance it will not.

We have a very brief window of opportunity, but opportunity is a perishable commodity. It’s here then it’s gone forever.

Fear mongering you might say? Fear would be an appropriate emotion when a threat is in your house. For a few out of each thousand though, you will respond. You will find your allies. And you will need to find the greatest unwavering courage, strength and determination.


A Facebook post reads:

My son got out of prison over a month ago and came to live with me well he won’t go get a job he says its because he has no clothes yet I bought him a bunch of name brand clothes he said he don’t like them! Hes mad at me cause I won’t take him to the mall to steal! And he said staying with me has been the worst month hes ever had! And all the money I’ve spent on cigs and food for him is unappreciated. I told him he has to leave and he told me to F off! what am I going to do help?


The seeds for this site

Thirty years ago, plus some

1985-86 was a pivotal year for me, one of several when I only knew to move and knew not where. I do remember in that year being fascinated with a branch of contemporary Christian thought about narrative as a key to, well, the stories we tell ourselves. Even at that time, I thought, this could work, long-distance, in prisons.

Twenty years ago

A family member is removed from the streets–that’s the good news–and incarcerated–that’s the bad news. I hire inmates for home renovations. Things could have gone better.

Just about 10 years ago

Sending books to inmates. Setting up this blogsite. Things still crashing in a pile of ashes.


What drives the urgency now? Not enough. The Prison Book Project will need dedication to get that locomotive in motion. The movement has begun!

More of the story leading to this website

Here, the shifting sands of 2008 and what was dislodged in my memory

Here, this development of this site from the same time period onward.




The Detective’s Story

I will tell you another story.vintage-interrogation-lightbulb
I went to a prison to interview two inmates for separate jobs, the first one wanted a solicitor but the second didn’t.
I met the solicitor inside the prison and as the guards were checking us in the solicitor realized he had forgot his picture ID badge in London, this was about 90 min drive, so they wouldn’t let him through and the first inmate was taken back to his cell.
I interviewed the second and then went back to my police station.
One week later I found out that the first inmate was searched and sat in the waiting room, he was then told about the solicitor’s mistake and he was then taken back through the search room, they again sat him down on the metal detector chair and it buzzed, they search him and found a razor knife up his back side which didn’t sound the first time through because it was further up, the second time through and it was working its way out.


When they interviewed him and asked what he had planned to do with this knife he said that he was going to slit the interviewing officer with it…ME!!!
I don’t know what this means but what are the chances, the solicitor stated he had never forgotten his ID in all the years he had been doing this job.