Welcome to The Mystical Underground

The person with the long Facebook name who posted this pic did so because she thought the guy in the foreground looked a lot like her friend Bill Gallart. I did too. Bill is my disc golf partner on Saturdays. I also thought for a moment that I was in the photo – the bald guy on the right. Then I realized that it wasn’t either one of us. But two doppels in the same pic?

What’s also surprising is that the photo was taken at JoJo’s, a bar-restaurant here in Wellington, where Bill and I go sometimes, usually separately. But we did meet there once for drinks with several others. So a double doppelganger…and a synchro! After all, that picture could’ve been taken anywhere.

Not only do those guys look fairly close in facial features to us, but they also have similar builds. Bill is tall with a long upper body, and his doppel looks the same. The bald guy not only has a similar build to mine, but his clothes look like what I typically wear. I have several khaki shorts and often wear a pale blue t-shirt. (In fact, I’ve got it on now with the shorts as I write!) Fortunately, the guy is in the background, because I’m guessing he’s probably 30 years younger than me.

So who are those guys and what are they doing, anyhow? We don’t know.

But don’t take my word on the look-a-like matter. Judge for yourself. Here’s Bill and me…

This powerful three-minute film about climate change was shown at the U.N. Climate Summit on September 23, 2014.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vaajVtgRuI

Several weeks ago, my agent emailed me asking is I would be interested in writing a novelization. This kind of book is a novel based on a movie script. Rob has written a number of them, including Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  My agent emailed the script and said that if it interested me, I should write 25 pages from the script showing how I would turn it into a novel. It would then be submitted to the producers and, if they liked it, he would do his best to get me the gig.

The script was 125 pages long. That meant that for it to become a novel, one page of script – a minute of film –  would need to become at least 3 pages of a novel. It meant I would have to fill in the character’s background. What’s her past? How does she think? What motivates her? Since a script is done mostly through dialogue, it meant I would have to show who she is within herself, what she thinks about, obsesses about, what her past is like. To do this, the first person voice – I – seemed be the best point of view to use.

The first eight pages of the script – which would be the basis for the first 25 pages of the novel – follow a young American woman through her first day in the U.K. There’s a natural break at the top of page 8 of the script, so I decided that would be the ideal place to end my 25 pages. I then read the entire script to get a sense of the character and how she evolves through the course of the movie.

The protagonist is a year younger than my daughter, so I could identify with her journey. I was specifically looking for something in her past that I could carry forward through the story. Rob had suggested this and I found it. She lost her father when she was really young and after his death, her mother told him that if she ever wanted to talk to him, she should write a message to him against the sky and he would see it. She does this several times in the script, so I seized on this and used it a couple of times in my 25 pages.

After Rob had read through the pages, I tweaked it and sent it off. That was on  a Friday. Sunday evening, we took Noah to the dog park and I was talking with Diana, a woman who had been one of Rob’s yoga students. Her husband was diagnosed with liver cancer last year, has had extensive surgery, and is doing better now. They had recently spent three weeks  in Alaska and had just gotten back yesterday. On the flights out there and back, she said, she had watched an emotionally wrenching film about a young man with cancer who falls in love with a woman who has a disability.

“This movie really touched me. I can’t remember the name of the film, though, Trish. Do you know which movie I’m talking about?”

I stood there for a moment, stunned. “It’s called Our Fault in the Stars, and it’s based on a novel by John Green.”

The movie was produced by Temple Hill Entertainment, the same company that is looking for a writer to novelize the script that my agent sent me. So what are the odds on this?  I hadn’t seen Diana at the dog park in months, I hadn’t mentioned the possible project to her or anyone else except Rob and Megan, and I haven’t read Our Fault in the Stars or seen the movie.  The only reason I know about the book is because after my agent emailed me, I looked up the production company and the book. And there were dozens of people at the dog park today and I could have spoken to any of them.

As we left the dog park, I remarked to Rob that the synchro is either a confirmation that I’ll get the project – or a big trickster synchro if I don’t. I’ve experienced several synchros that seemed to be confirmations and turned out to be tricksters. However it unfolds, it’s the sort of synchronicity that invariably leaves me wondering about the power of what quantum physicist David Bohm referred to as the “implicate” or enfolded order in the underlying, deeper reality of our lives.

In other words, who or what orchestrates this stuff, anyway?

Here’s a video about a sighting in Houston in mid-August during a massive electric storm. The narrator goes on to show other examples of the attraction of UFOs to such storms. Of course, an alternate explanation is that the storm itself creates what appears to be UFO. Take a look.

Here are a couple of UFO/alien-related synchros. Well, at least one of them is. The other one is just sort of silly, but it happened when I was preparing to write the real one. So I’ll include it first.

I (Rob) was looking around the house for Noah’s Frisbee. He’s our golden retriever. I looked behind the couch in the family room, didn’t see it, then looked up at the television, which was on, and there was a guy in the foreground facing the camera and holding up a Frisbee. It was the same color as Noah’s! And, of course, Frisbees look like UFOs! Okay, it’s not really a UFO-related synchro, but the next one takes us deep into the contact phenomenon.

This is a story related to me by Sandy, the woman we’ve written about before who is in frequent contact with alien beings…and when I say contact, I mean physical contact. The beings who have been visiting her since 1995 don’t abduct her, but are engaged in what seems to be ‘energy work.’

I’ll let Sandy tell the story.

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I had a very cool synchronicity this weekend that I want to share with you! I was going through some old journal entries this weekend and came across one that involved the beings telling me to go to 3 Reiki sessions (I think it was 1995), so I was thinking about all the energy work they do and remembered that I bought a book about Reiki a couple of years ago titled Hands of Light, by Barbara Brennan, but I never read it.

When I pulled it off my bookshelf on Saturday, it still looked brand new and untouched and even had the sales receipt in between the pages. So I flipped it open and came across an illustration of the aura around hands with a description at the bottom of page stating that “The energy bodies pull like taffy between the fingers…”

This is amazing because in my June 9 1997 journal entry, I wrote: “We (Sandy and her husband George) sat up in bed and played with this amazing energy field that surrounded both of us! It was almost sticky and when we would bring our hands close to the other’s the energy would merge.

When I closed my eyes and held my hands about 8 inches apart, George would pass his hand through the energy field between them and I could feel his hand! George described it as putting his hand in magnetic water. We could actually touch each other without physical contact using this energy field. It was so much fun!

Whenever I would place my palms facing each other the energy appeared as glowing white, and small sparkles and flashes would be produced. After about an hour we were tired and settled in to sleep.

Right before I drifted off I asked what that was all about and received the answer “You are living the future.” The energy field stayed with us for 3 days, growing fainter each night until it was just webbing around our fingers. Too cool.”

So, this had my attention and I spent a lot of time reading parts of this book this weekend and then looked up the author, Barbara Ann Brennan online, wondering if she might have a workshop I could attend. Well, not only is she located in Florida, but there’s a 2-day Hands of Light workshop in Sarasota in February. I signed up.

I think this is where I’ll learn to really work with this energy the beings have opened me up to. It all fell together in a most unexpected way! I love when that happens.

We recently visited our daughter in Orlando, and attended another one of her Paint Nite classes   – our third. I was hoping for a synchro that night – and wasn’t disappointed.

The venue for this one was in a German restaurant, which has an entire area at the back of the restaurant that is perfect for a class of 35 to 40 people. Rob and I were early. We wanted to grab a bite to eat before the class began, so we reserved our seats with two of the green artist aprons that you wear during the glass. Our seats were at the front, where we would have a close-up of how to paint the Eiffel tower.

While we enjoyed a German dinner, Megan and her assistant for the night, Justin, were doing the rather complex setup for the class. You can grasp a sense of it in the top photo. Each spot at a table requires three brushes of various shapes and sizes, an easel and canvas, a plastic cup with water in it for cleaning brushes, a paper towel for drying the brushes,  and a paper plate with a palette of basic acrylic colors on it – black and white, blue, red, and yellow.  When you’re expecting 35-40 students, this process takes awhile.

At the front of the area is a sound system and two canvases – a painting for that night and a blank canvas on which Megan takes us step by step to the completion of the painting during the two-hour class.

After we finished dinner, Rob and I donned our green artist aprons and took our seats. In front of us were the painting for the night and the blank canvas, which was about a foot to the right of the Eiffel tower. Megan had painted this one in preparation for her class.

Both canvases had bright lights that shone down over them. And because we were seated at the front, those lights served as a backdrop for this, formed by the shape of the easel on which our canvases stood:

“Rob, look! It’s the Eiffel tower!” I exclaimed.

His canvas also had the shadow tower and so did the canvases of the other three people at our table. We laughed about it and the three other women at our table  recognized  the “coincidence” as well.

The woman next to me was delighted. “This will make painting the tower much easier.”

Maybe, I thought. But as we started with the background paint and the preliminary outline of the tower, the silhouette became less visible. And you can see I’m already having some trouble with the, well, outline!

And painting the actual tower was the trickiest part of the entire painting. Mine came out looking like something from a nightmare, but Rob’s fared much better.

The evening was great fun and the odd synchro at the beginning of the class seemed to be saying, Relax and enjoy the ride!

During our trip to Minneapolis on July, we headed out one morning to Stillwater, Minnesota, a town on the Mississippi River, where we planned to have lunch. Rob’s mom, Ione, went with us.

On our way out, we stopped by a vintage car show in a local park. Ione’s neighbor, Mike, keeps his 1956 Ford Galaxy in her garage and in exchange, he drives her to the grocery store when she needs to buy stuff. We were curious about the types of cars that might be at the show. That photo above, by the way, was NOT in the show. But it was so weird looking, with all the astro turf covering it, that it could have been in a weird car show!

After Rob parked and we were walking down a shallow hill to the exhibit area, it occurred to me that car shows, antique or otherwise, aren’t on our usual agenda. In fact, I couldn’t recall the last time I’d gone to a car show. That said, there’s a certain mystique about vintage cars that intrigues me. Who were the original owners? What kind of lives had they lived? Were any of the cars haunted, like Christine, the 1958 Plymouth Fury in Stephen King’s book (1983) of the same name?

The exhibit was small, but fascinating. The windows of the cars were open and you could peer into the vast, pristine interiors that invariably featured HUGE everything. The steering wheels were usually the size of a two-year-old. The seats were leather, the glove compartments could easily accommodate several laptop computers, iPads, and leftover containers from lunch.  The back seats were spacious and looked comfortable enough to curl up on and go to sleep.

In this beauty, I could almost see Alfred Hitchcock at the wheel, headed toward the day’s filming of The Birds or 39 Steps or Rebecca.

Here’s an old fire truck – I don’t have any idea what year this is. But it was easy to imagine the firemen riding high on the truck, the tensions rising at it neared the fire.

When I first spotted this 1955 Ford, I texted it to our daughter: Is this Christine?? Goes to show how much I DON’T know about vintage cars.

But it had the same eerie feel as the car in the movie, the hood open like a giant mouth. The guy who stood beside it – who wasn’t in the photo I took – could have been a character from a King novel, a kind of down home sort of man with a quick laugh and strange eyes.

Here’s an old Corvette (I think) with a couple of other cars.

Here’s a  vintage Mustang. Years ago, one of my uncles worked for Ford and designed the original Mustang. I think he would enjoy seeing this one:

I have no idea how this truck was used or its year or make. But it’s easy to see it hauling butt on some interstate in the present, loaded up with produce – or artifacts from a UFO crash site…

I think this is Mike’s car, the one that’s kept in Ione’s garage. Then again, I may be wrong, and it may not be a Ford Galaxy at all!

I admit that when we first arrived, I expected to be bored since antique cars are definitely not my thing. But as I walked around, looked inside these beauties, studied what was under the hoods, my imagination began to play with it all. I realized it’s all creative fodder. And, who knows? In a future novel, maybe the ghost of Hitchcock will be driving that big ole black car.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aq6t7SPbcX0

Rob and I watched President Obama’s address to the nation on September 10. And we watched the hour afterward, where TV pundits explained – or tried to – what it all meant.

Here’s what it meant to me: I felt like I was watching George W. Bush during a similar address more than ten years ago, when he told us it was imperative that the U.S. invade Iraq, which hadn’t even been involved in 911. His remark that the U.S. will seek out and destroy ISIS wherever it is bore eerie parallels to Bush’s axis of evil speech in his state of the union address on January 29, 2002.

I clearly recall Bush’s expression during that speech, the way his eyes narrowed, his mouth twitched, the way his voice struggled for sincerity and failed utterly and completely. Obama scared me. And I voted for this man twice. The first time he ran, Rob and I stood in a line in Fort Lauderdale for five or six hours, waiting to get inside an auditorium to hear this man who spoke so movingly of change. We actually got great seats and were riveted by his energy, his idealism, his vision. Now it’s six years later and guess what? Not very much has changed.

–       Gitmo is still open for business and has fewer than 150 prisoners who are costing the U.S. untold zillions a year.  Why? National Public Radio – NPR- recently conducted a program about Gitmo. Check it out. It’s an eye opener.

–       Surveillance on Americans has expanded under Obama, not shrunk. Just ask Edward Snowden. If you’re a blogger who ever mentions politics, be sure to check your Statcounter for the number of hits you receive from government spy agencies. Are you a danger to the U.S.?

–       We are supposedly out of Afghanistan this year, but there are still about 30,000 troops there.  Why?

–       And why do we still have more than 30,000 troops in South Korean, more than sixty years after WWII?

–       And why do we, civilians who just want to get from point A to B on a plane, still have to remove our stupid shoes and put them in a stupid tray when we go through security at the airport? I mean, really. There was ONE guy way back when who had a bomb in his shoe. ONE.

–       And why are TSA employees allowed to feel you up and over when, in any other situation, this behavior would constitute sexual battery or assault?

–       Why does the military/industrial complex receive untold zillions while we are constantly told that universal health care would be untenable financially?

I am so disenchanted at this point with Obama’s promise for change that unless the democrats run a true liberal in 2016, I’ll be sitting out the election. A true liberal would be, oh, let’s see, the list is short. Forget Hillary Clinton. She’s a hawk.  I love Elizabeth Warren, the senator from Massachusetts who has never backed down from a fight; Bernie Sanders, the self-proclaimed socialist who is up there on my hero list with Nelson Mandela; or Wendy Davis,  currently a democratic Texas senator who is running for governor.

She’s the woman who filibustered for 11 hours to block a truly restrictive abortion bill for that state. Think about that. You talk for 11 hours. You can’t sit down. I don’t know if you can even pause for a sip of water. I suppose they have time for a bathroom break, but maybe not. It’s Texas, after all, one of the most right-wing states in this country that pretty much hates women.

And that’s the thing, really. Our national politics are intimately threaded through our international politics. Eisenhower warned us about the military/industrial complex more than half a century ago. No one listened.

You notice how gray Obama has gotten in the last two years? My sense about this man is that he meant well, he really did. He hoped to initiate significant change, hoped to engage a recalcitrant congress, to work with them, but encountered one cement wall after another. When he rallied the U.S. military to save thousands of people stranded on a mountaintop where ISIS had chased them, I cheered for him. Humanitarian efforts are where we should we putting our military might.

When he started bombing missions to stop ISIS, I got nervous. Yes, two freelance journalists had been beheaded on You Tube, a provocation, an invitation to engage. Yeah, it’s barbaric, it’s Medieval – but Saudia Arabia, our ally – has beheaded 16-30 citizens this month (depending on which source you read) and one of those beheadings was for sorcery, which in that country might be nothing more than a weather prediction.

When I listened to Obama’s speech the other night, I realized he had caved, that he was channeling Bush, that not much has changed. For some reason, the consistent paradigm of US foreign policy is that we must be the world cop. We must intervene, conquer, and of course, always, “guard and defend our interests in Mideast” – i.e. OIL.

That’s tragic and sad. We could do so much better.And if the paradigm doesn’t change of its own volition, something will force that change.

This one will surely make you smile!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9Ol9fsoiYE