Wrong about my previous post

Wrong about my previous post--it was not the negative entities which cut on me last night, which is good news, because, believe me, I never want to fall under their mental domination again, except for maybe VERY brief periods. Still, I woke up in such pain and autistic torment that all I could do was lay in bed. PF talked me into sitting for contemplation, which I was a little leery of doing, because I am afraid of plugging into the MACHINE, when I am in that kind of mental state. The Jesuits/Vatican faction have been playing games, taking over "her" body, and spending time in residence next door, so I have to be very careful that I don't get duped by them. However, it may take me a little while, but I can vet a telepathic presence, and prove to my satisfaction that it is PF.

So, I went and sat, and again, I didn't think anything was going to happen--I just felt too bad. Once again, I was proved wrong--I think a whole lot happened. I think I got in a little family time, a little war business-fighting the bad guys time, and even a little "nookie time". I always know when I have sex with PF in the interdimensional realm, because, just as sex in 3D does, I come away, feeling very relaxed and centered all day.

Still, there are some things I still haven't figured out, about the experience, but nothing seems to be as pressing as yesterday, so I am content to mull things over. I know that they did adjust my back, so that least I can walk. The curve or scoliosis in my lumbar spine is greater, but I tell myself that I can live with it for a short period of time. I could not live with the nerve pain and sacral pressure that I had this morning.

I don't know if it is me, but I finally am starting to feel more hopeful about my situation. It seems that I have been struggling to just survive for so long, that I have a pessimistic hyper-vigilance syndrome, but this is the third day in a row that I have been in the interdimensional realm with my family, and you don't know how happy that makes me.

So now, it is time to do some more karmic clearing, only thank God, this won't be about the explosive issue of sex; instead, it will be about race. Nor is it really about karma in the strict sense, since I am going to write about something that happened in this lifetime. Rather, it is about neurotic guilt--and once again, the satanists are in the thick of it.

As I have written before, neurotic guilt only has subjective validity; the afflicted sufferer feels guilty, but there really is no objective guilt, since the neurotic actually did not will or act to commit offense. Thus, I suffer from neurotic guilt over having "engaged in sex" with my mother while still a toddler, or from cutting open a decapitated baby, with a knife placed in my toddler's hands. I did not will these acts, but they were so horrific to the human soul, that there is no way I could escape trauma and a sense of guilt, merely for being present.

In this case, there is real guilt intertwined with the neurotic guilt, but I think that I have asked for forgiveness and done penance in a sacramental setting, years ago. That is important to me, because the guilt itself was incurred as a "unholy" (sacred, according to Satan) solemn vow, and thus it is fitting that it was repudiated in a sacred service.

So, what happened? Once again, I am trying to piece together flashes of memory and intuitive deductions, hampered by the fact that this incident took place over 13 years ago. I am not being numberological. I know enough about what happened to place the incident within a six month time frame, and it occurred within the first trimester of 1991, or a little earlier. I was in the first year of my job as a counselor to young men convicted of felonies while juveniles, and I was gung ho in my enthusiasm. I had watched my brother fall prey to delinquency and drug addiction, and I was truly motivated to help these young men. I was single, so all my energy, and yes, daily prayers, was directed towards the goal of helping me reach this very recalcitrant population. I was working in a very Black environment, with about half of the inmate population being Black, and 2/3rd's of my co-workers being Black. However, while I learned quickly that a male prison is a very racial place, and that has to be respected, I really never paid much attention to the racial divide. I have always related to people on the basis of individuality, and that is how I was at this job.

I should have paid a little more attention, for I know now, that in addition to malcontent Black racism, that there was an undercover cell of hard core White racists. Now, why any White racist would want to work in such a setting, I don't know, but I now recognize , that they tried to recruit me, on a couple of occasions, but I was so naive and blind, I just thought that they were doing some minority venting, and I was willing to lend a noncommittal ear. Now, why would they try to recruit me--well, the answer is that I think somebody, some White satanic racist (who is now almost certainly dead), probably set me up to be recruited very early on in my career.

Now, at this point, formal religion played a minor role in my life, but I still was a deeply prayerful and spiritual person. Still, I knew enough to be deeply wary of satanists, and while satanic staff never revealed themselves, I always wondered why my unit had so many satanists--and not the roody poos either, but hard core, highly intelligent and occult affiliated satanists. At this period in my career, there was one deeply disturbed satanist on the unit--call him, xxx, for he had tattooed over the "666" on his forehead. He also had a very motivated counselor, an evangelical Christian, who had worked hard with him to pull him from the brink, and everyone was hopeful for this young man. A lot of my factual knowledge of this incident comes from xxx, who also was present at the same interdimensional ritual. There is no doubt in my mind that the satanist who I believe responsible for the set up, AND for monitoring all the satanist inmates, deliberately transported xxx to the ritual, and then later prompted him to talk to me about it.

Now remember, satanists are spiritual people, too--just negatively so. Thus a powerful satanist can have an impact on someone's mind through telepathic suggestion. Whether that happened to me personally, or whether it was some more sophisticated CIA (satanic) psychotronic technology, I do not know, but sometime in early 1991, I drove into a huge full moon to go camp by myself in the Mojave desert. In retrospect, I was stupid, but I never had much fear when I went camping, because it was always such a contemplative retreat for me, and gave me the opportunity to relate to God, who seemed so distant in the city. Of course, I wonder now, what "God" I was relating to, but believe me when I say, that, at this point, all of this seemed genuinely spiritual to me.

I think I remember the desert trip where I was abducted into the interdimensional realm, for I was very worried about one of my caseload. I now recognize him as an autistic, but at the time I just feared that he would recommit as an adult and end up on death row. The worst part was that he was actually a good and sensitive soul, but he manifested an angry and violent facade, and I knew no jury would ever see the real him. He was Black, and I was praying for him my first night there. This is important, because of course, the White satanists would have known by now, that as I was as highly motivated to help the Black wards, as the White ones. So, I think that they wanted to teach my deplorable "college grad liberal ass" a lesson about race.

I know, because xxx revealed it to me (at the time, I thought he was delusional), that a Black homeless man was crucified in the ritual. I, of course, have practically no memory, because I was abducted. However, I think that when I realized what was going on, I immediately became outraged and demanded the man's release. Now, at this point, I do not know how much adult experience I had with satanic settings, but let me tell you, they are worse than horror movies, which seem campy by comparison. There is a sinister, menacing evil that pervades every thing and every body, with practically no one evincing recognizable signs of humanity.

I think at first, I just reacted emotionally--"you can't kill this man". Then, the cold, unfeeling, evil leader turned to me, and said something like, "If you're such a nigger lover, suck his dick, and we will let him go free." Now at that point, my initial emotional outrage would have dissipated, as I would have recognized what pathologicals I was dealing with, and the danger I was in, and when I am in danger, cold, calculating reason kicks in.

I know how hateful White racists are, and surely, in my unconscious mind, I knew how hateful satanists are--that flash of a decapitated baby started appearing in my memory while I was still in my early 20's. There is no doubt in my mind that I was terrified. I remember as a young kid my Dad took us to a movie, in which a young woman was murdered and carved up, for "selling out" and going over to a rival motorcycle gang. I was reared in a strict patriarchal setting, in which men think and act as if they own women--and especially their sexuality. My own father was that way with me, and while I never took umbrage, being uninterested in teenage sex, my rational mind began calculating that if I conceded to their suggestion, that I would likely end up dead...guilty of being a "race traitor". I have seen too many male haters in my life, and the way they think that they own women, and can do whatever they want, should the woman show any sign of independence or free will.

Those satanists had come to the desert to observe a ritual sacrifice, and I do believe that somebody was going to die that night. Was it going to be the homeless Black man, or was it going to be the "race traitor bitch"? Now, would I have blown this man, if I actually believed that we both could walk free if I did? I don't know. Consciously, I was very disinclined to any kind of heterosexual relations, and I found the idea of fellatio especially denigrating (I wonder how much of that was because subconsciously, I knew what had happened to my sister?). However, remember that unconsciously, I have an ancient history of "liberated" sexual activity, and gay men, especially, love penises. Also, do not underestimate my respect for life. I may have been squeamish about heterosexual relations, but I can assure you, that I think I would have been more squeamish about murder. I can also state unequivocally that two factors that would NOT have come into play, would have been race or social status. At the time, I was working with young Black men, and in my previous job, I had worked with homeless people.

No, at the time, it seemed like a lose-lose choice; either, he lost his life, or I lost mine, very similar to the choice I was recently offered in regard to the prisoner from India. In that case, I was told to comply with the satanists or the Indian would lose his life. The difference is, that now, I KNOW what I am fighting for, I KNOW that I am a soldier in a desperate war, in which innocents die, and a single bad, or sentimental move on my part, could result in even greater catastrophe. I didn't know that then; instead, it was my own sense of self-preservation that kicked in--fed by sheer terror.

They crucified the man, which again, makes me wonder, how much they knew about my past lives and possible future (killing a BLACK man--all designed to cripple me with guilt). However, that was not the end of the ordeal. I still had to prove that my life was worth saving, and so I was compelled to take an oath "vowing" to "be a White racist" all my life, and hate Black people. I don't know the specifics, because I cannot remember them, but can only go on what I know about the white supremacist movement. Then to seal the deal, I had to perform oral sex on one of the White leaders.

Now, you cannot imagine how sick this recitation makes me. No wonder it stayed buried deep in my unconscious for so long. All I can say in my defense is that I made a decision to preserve my life, and I chose my life over another, and that further, I "lied" about a solemn vow. Now, how I got away with a lie, in front of a bunch of telepathic satanists I don't know--maybe the terror had my mind in a frozen state. However, I do not believe for one moment that I took that vow in good faith, but only under the most dire circumstances of compulsion and terror. I felt in danger for my life, and the fact that the executors of the oath had just crucified a man, confirms that for me. Still, it was a solemn and spiritually binding oath, and so I haven taken action to repudiate it.

It is fair to say that I certainly have never acted on that oath. The only lifetime in which I have been a racist is the last one--Charles Lindbergh--and even he had the excuse of Vosk--the "Black" man of the future, murdering his baby and destroying his life, and nearly all the world. In this lifetime, I have always been deeply sensitive to racial prejudice, and as a matter of fact, absolutely nothing changed in my attitude or behavior towards Black people, colleagues or wards, at work. Over the next four years, I think a couple of subtle recruitment efforts were made to rope me into a more active role in the White supremacist community, but they went completely over my head. It is only now in retrospect that I can see them for what they were, and I can honestly say that the ideology of White racists have never been anything but contemptible for me. I do feel some compassion for them, because I imagine most of them have been severely abused, but the bottom line is that they are haters, and there is no excuse for hating.

So, has my guilt from this incident been exculpated? Well, it is easy to repudiate a "vow" that I believe was invalid in the first place. However, because I am not certain of the precise terms of the vow, it is hard for me to defend my assertion that I am now completely free of it. I truly do wish to know what the content of this oath was, so that I can free myself of it. In the meantime, I can only say that any vow administered by a satanist in a ritualistic setting, in which an innocent man was murdered, is one for which, a priori, I can tell you, that I have no respect. So please somebody, give me the details, so I can completely rebuff the entire proceeding as a fraud.

Then, there is, to me, the even greater moral fult of allowing an innocent man to die, while doing nothing. Yes, I can say that I was motivated by self-preservation, but even so, from my moral standpoint, that is cowardice. Maybe one reason, I act so recklessly is that I am always trying to prove that I am not a coward. That is how I got hurt on the job, and that is going to lead to an early death if I do not stop it, but I guess my unconscious guilt just drives me to it.

I know that some really immature Black men will find fault with me, because I refused to perform oral sex on the homeless Black man. To them, and their love affair with their own dicks, it will be just another indication of racism. That is not the case. I can tell you that I am more sickened at the thought that I fellated a White satanist, than I am at the thought of doing an innocent Black man. However, the prejudice of my action lies not in the skin color, but in saving my own skin. Had I thought it necessary to save my life, I would just as reluctantly fellated the Black man, and then loathed him for the compulsorary rapine, just as much as I now loathe that White supremacist, and his entire perverted community.

Still, there is neurotic guilt all entangled, with this authentic guilt, which I think misleads. You know, satanic spirits in people can read minds and find vulnerabilities in even the strongest of individuals. My favorite story is that of a charismatic nun and exorcist who could not fast before an exorcism service, because of a medical condition. So, when she went to confront the evil spirit, it/he told her, "You have no power over me. You didn't fast". The nun replied, "My authority comes not from fasting, but from Jesus Christ". Now the moral of the story is that even though the sister was strong in her conviction and perfectly justified in her actions, that little niggling doubt waved a huge red flag to the evil spirit, and he pounced on it.

That is what happened to me on this night. The satanic spirit was able to read my mind and find my weakness in my defense of the Black race. When I was very young, I read all of the great literature by Black authors. Of course, I read everything, but in my opinion, Black writers are among the best of 20th century writers. Now, I didn't know any Black people, because they were rare as hen's teeth where I lived--well, the Church organist, who was a saintly woman. So, all I knew about Black people was what I read, and idealistic youth that I was, I fell in love with the noble and poetic souls and characters as expressed by the Black writers. However, like all idealists, I was doomed to have the clay feet of my idols smashed. After I finished reading every worthwhile book in my small, high school libary, the librarian allowed me access to the magazine room, where all the contemporary magazines from the 1960's and 1970's were housed. Thus, my classical literary education was complemented with street journalism (and journalism used to be a much more honest profession than it is today). There, I encountered the lives and words of real Black people, not characters from a story, and there I encountered the disappointing realization that Black people were not better than the White people I knew (books and idealism will do that to you), but just as fallible, quarrelsome, and self-centered.

The first and thus, the most memorable slap of reality I received was reading an article about Blacks in Haight Asbury. In this article, a Black man was telling the writer that he loved where he lived, because "all the White chicks want to fight for Black liberation by giving blow jobs". Well, that certainly disabused by idealistic preconceptions, and it just got worse, the more I read. I could give details of the numerous sexist, misogynist, and racist examples I encountered, but there is no need to go there. Let us just say that anybody would be disappointed if they based their initial opinions on a people by reading a Nobel prize author, and then headed into the local opium den. However, my disappointment did not end there--as my world expanded, and I encountered more Black people, I could not help but be shocked at the behavior of a disproportionate number of Black men, who did not seem to have the requisite respect for mine, or for any woman's personal sexual boundaries to which I was accustomed I am talking personally here, in high school and college. Having grown up in a Bible Belt small town, there is a certain decorum that males show "good" (with strong sexual boundaries) girls, though they treat the sexually active girls with greater disdain. So imagine my disgust, when I am trying so hard to be "liberal" and racially free and tolerant, and the Black men whom I have just met, start coming on to me like they want to hop in bed with me. Nor was this just me--from what I could tell any White woman who seemed interested in relating to a Black man in a social, civil manner, got the same treatment, and it was just as disconcerting to them. Now, I am not saying that all Black men were like this, but it certainly was way above average, and throughout it all, that original line from that 60's magazine echoed in my head. So, the question I began to ask myself was, "is that Black men's idea of racial equality--having White women suck their dicks?". Lest you think I am focusing too much on some poor Black street person, let me remind you of what Dr. King said to his friends (who I admire greatly) said, after engaging in sex with White women, "Today, I am not a Negro; today I am a man".

Now, I never went so far as to give up my liberal views on race relations, but I learned to become extra rigid in my boundaries with Black men, and I think this is what the satanist picked up on, when he asked me to suck the Black man's dick. Now, because sex, repression, loss of idealism, and tentative, youthful identity (especially for a young lesbian) are all intertwined in this mash, the authentic guilt I carry from this encounter is tinged with neurotic guilt. Since neurotic guilt tends to reveal itself more forcefully and immediately than authentic guilt, I think some people who know this story may be focused on the neurotic aspects of it, instead of the understanding the real determining factor of my cowardice. I would ask one question, though--of all the Black men out there, who I know are judging me negatively, and that question is, "how many of you all would suck a White man's dick to save his life?" Then imagine having to make that decision, when you are in terror of your life, with a group of people emitting the most evil vibes you have ever encountered.

I admit that from the strictest moral authority, I should have fought for that man's life, even if it cost me my own, but then we wouldn't be having this conversation would we?

As for me, I just want to know how to resolve this guilt, and to do that I need to know exactly what happened. Until I do, I will just keep doing what I do--my absolute utmost in fighting evil.