Category Archives: Murder

Alice’s Perilous Tales: Cannibal Man . The Greater Oblation . by Alice B. Clagett *

Filmed on 19 January 2020; published on 23 January 2020
Previously titled: Offertory … and … Alice’s Perilous Tales: The Greater Oblation

  • VIDEO BY ALICE
  • SOUNDTRACK OF THE VIDEO
  • SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO
    • Introduction
    • Greater Oblation
    • Alice’s Perilous Tales: Cannibal Man
    • Light, a Poem by Alice B. Clagett
    • More on the Cannibal Man
    • How the Game Is Played: ‘Master Plan’ in Action
      • The Chill
      • The Cull
      • The Lock Down
    • How I Chilled Out
    • Postscript: Battery Drain and Help at Hand
    • Postscript: The Worst of Oblations

Dear Ones,

Halfway down this blog page, beginning with the section “More on the Cannibal Man,” is a better explanation than priorly of my perilous encounters, in years past, with a negatively psychically gifted stranger I feared greatly at that time … although not so much today, thank goodness.

After the video there is the video Soundtrack and an edited Summary. The Summary is more complete than the video; in it are lots of references that might be useful, but not at all essential to reading the text  …

VIDEO BY ALICE
Erratum: For the word ‘Offertory’ throughout, please substitute the term ‘Greater Oblation’.

SOUNDTRACK OF THE VIDEO
Erratum: For the word ‘Offertory’ throughout, please substitute the term ‘Greater Oblation’.

 

SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO

Hello, Dear Ones, It’s Alice. I Am of the Stars.

Introduction

A lot is happening right now, now that the window has closed. The gateway in January has closed, and it must have left us with a lot of information that is slowly unfolding and unpackaging itself, and gifting itself to the world.

Greater Oblation

I was in church today, and as often happens, issues that I have been unable to resolve will come up in church to present themselves to me, and then … especially around the time of the Holy Communion taking place … during what is termed the Greater Oblation, when the host and chalice are raised

Image: “Elevation of the Host, with vision of St. John of Matha,” painting by Juan Carreno de Miranda, 1666, from Wikimedia Commons, public domain. DESCRIPTION: “Fundación de la Orden de los Trinitarios / Mass of St John of Matha; The Foundation Mass of the Order of Trinitarians / La Messe de fondation de l’ordre des Trinitaires. It should be noted that the actual vision of St. John de Matha was of Christ and two captives not an angel as has been reflected at times erroneously in some works of art. See the Mosaic St. John de Matha had installed in Rome at St. Thomas in Formis for an account of the vision.”

Image: “Elevation of the Host, with vision of St. John of Matha,” painting by Juan Carreno de Miranda, 1666, from Wikimedia Commons, public domain. DESCRIPTION: “Fundación de la Orden de los Trinitarios / Mass of St John of Matha; The Foundation Mass of the Order of Trinitarians / La Messe de fondation de l’ordre des Trinitaires. It should be noted that the actual vision of St. John de Matha was of Christ and two captives not an angel as has been reflected at times erroneously in some works of art. See the Mosaic St. John de Matha had installed in Rome at St. Thomas in Formis for an account of the vision.”

… and then there is a hopeful moment when there might be a solution to this ongoing problem. Today was no exception. Today I remembered about a person … this is a Wild West story … whose notions seem so very unusual to me: He is a ‘Circle of One’ person

Link: “Ego 1: Circle of One . I Am the Only Ego in the World,” by Alice B. Clagett, published 15 August 2016; revised 7 July 2018 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-623 ..

He is an antisocial personality …

Link: “Dealing with the Antisocial Personality (ASP) as Humankind Awakens,” by Alice B. Clagett, written and published on 10 January 2017; revised … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-6Mm ..

According to the astral stories he is a cannibal. He is the leader of a group. He says that he has killed 700 people. I do not know; that might be a brag. I do not know; maybe he did.

Let’s see; what else? … I have spoken in terms of Soullessness in trying to explain the phenomenon that I am witnessing in the astral stories with regard to this putative person …

Link: “Syncretic Theory on the Antisocial Personality and the ‘Elementary’ (Black Soul or Dark Soul) . by Alice B. Clagett, filmed on 9 November 2016; published on 12 November 2016; transcribed and revised on 4 March 2019 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-6nV ..

I have come up with a lot of things. One of them is the Physical Form Heresy, which you can see; it is one of my blogs …

Link: “The Physical Form Heresy,” by Alice B. Clagett, published on 17 May 2017; revised on 11 October 2017 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-7cY ..

And this is a story along the lines of the Physical Form Heresies: I do not know if I have mentioned this person believes that when someone leaves his group, his followers ought to catch the fleeing person. And then they all ought to kill and eat that person. He is a cannibal.

Cannibalism is not my cup of tea, and so I have attempted to resolve the astral stories I have heard about his penchant for cannibalism through art and song and poems …

Link: “Cannibal Man,” drawings by Alice B. Clagett, drawn and published on 25 January 2020 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-gas ..

Link: “Cannibal Song: The 29-Flavor Barbecue . aka Ogreish Stew,” a poem by Alice B. Clagett, written and published on 2 May 2019 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-cwW ..

LInk: “Alikazam: A Song to Put a Cannibal to Sleep,” by Alice B. Clagett, filmed and published on 20 March 2019 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-bX3 ..

I have tried to come up with something. And I have been pretty successful as far as my own peace of mind is concerned. But just to put it to you bluntly, he believes that when people leave him, he and his group ought to eat him so that they remain one with him forever. It is what you might call a ‘Black Communion’ (a ‘Black Magic Communion’). And oddly, this came up during the Greater Oblation and the offering of the body and blood of Christ as salvation for the people in the church today.

So this person believes in what I might term a ‘Black Communion’. And I was trying to think how to prevent future Black Communions on his part, because from my point of view, the point of being on Earth is to love and serve humankind; to bring Christ’s Light to the world, that kind of thing.

But he feels that a Black Communion and the Christian Communion are the same thing. He believes he is above right and wrong, and that each of these Communions is as ethical as the other. I was trying to counter that; I was trying to look at it from his point of view, and persuade him not to drink people’s blood. I think when you deal with a person who has those kinds of fixed ideas about reality … for whatever reason … you need to deal in terms of their own mental filters and mental constructs, and try to present something that makes sense to them from that point of view.

Too, this apparently is a person that I have priorly described in terms of catastrophic childhood experiences …

Link: “Primitive Experiences of Loss, the Antisocial Personality, and the Global Awakening,” by Alice B. Clagett, Published on 10 July 2015, revised and reposted on 11 October 2016 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-6fC … Search the term: Astral Story of the Cannibal

… who set fire to the family house and burned up his mother and infant brother after his father had left. According to the story, there was nobody left after this act of arson; his mother was dead, her body scorched. He was sitting in a field with his mother’s body. He was hungry; he was only about 4 years old [in another rendition, 9 years old], and he tried eating a piece of his mother’s charred arm. That experience got him going in terms of cannibalism as ‘bringing back the mother’ … bringing back the maternal love … which is what he is practicing with his followers, according to the astral stories (which in this case are pretty much ‘out there’).

Once in a while I am ‘all over’ this catastrophic childhood story, and it came to me it could be he is one of those people who is born with a lot of rage inside, and who can express that rage through psychically starting spontaneous fires, a psychic ability termed ‘pyrokinesis’ … and that possibly his mother’s house might have burned down because he was in a fit of anger over being pushed out of her bed when he crawled into it for comfort because she was nursing that new child. And so he might have started that fire psychically … because he is extremely gifted, psychically, in a negative way … in a way of killing and so forth. He may have started that fire spontaneously as his first expression of that type of pyrotechnic gift (or curse, as the case may be).

That is neither here nor there. To get back to my attempts to persuade this person to give up cannibalism during Communion today: First I was trying to create reasonable doubt in his mental filter regarding the importance of eating his followers if they left the killing cult …

Link: “Community Health: Cults that Kill and Outlaw Gangs,” by Alice B. Clagett, published on 7 December 2015; revised … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-4pb ..

He said that their love would always be with him because he had eaten some part of them. So their individuality would always be with him throughout his life, and they would never actually have left. The first argument I tried was this: If he had let them leave in peace and happiness, then throughout their lives they would remember him lovingly … and that therefore their loving hearts would be with him throughout his life, rather than the fear and the upset and the anger they might feel … and which their ghostly forms might continue to express, on the astral plane, for quite some time … if he killed them and then ate their hearts.

So that was my first attempt. I will say it met with less than complete success.

As first the host and then the chalice of Christ’s blood were raised for our adoring eyes I kept thinking: What was the key? What was the answer? What would make the difference in that person’s life?

The thing that came through, just as the chalice was lowered, was to speak to him in physical terms … as in the examples that are given in the Heresy of Physical Form blog cited above, which mostly had to do with his ideas and his advice to his followers, according to the astral stories.

This new admonition has to do with the physical realm; physical fixes for spiritual issues: I suggested that, as he had ingested the flesh and the blood of a number of followers (I do not know how many followers), that he had within him … within his physical form … the DNA of these people; and that it was possible that the DNA of these people might hold the answer to the issue of another way of dealing with people leaving … that the DNA he had ingested might have that answer.

And he said he would talk to his wife about that. From that I gather that he has a wife; maybe the same wife for a long time, maybe a new wife … I do not know. So he is going to look for an answer in the DNA of the people that he has eaten; an answer to cannibalism, and a new way of dealing with the issue of people leaving his cult. At least that is what the astral airs provided today, at the sacred moment of the Greater Oblation at church.

Whether or not he has his answer, I have my answer. And that Christ’s example to us, through the sacrifice of His own life for his followers is a good thing for us to look at, as His followers. What can we do to help other people? Not: How can we end their lives; how can we make them our sacrifice? But: What sacrifices can we make for the people that we love and for whom we wish the best.

Alice’s Perilous Tales: Cannibal Man

And so, dear reader, to begin with this perilous tale of my own … the tale of my encounter with the Cannibal Man. Here are the facts as I found them; although facts they are, only in realms that surpass the understanding of most people …

My feeling is that people of the nature of the person I have been describing choose, for their lives, to stand above right and wrong … but to chose, for action in the world, what people consider to be wrong. Their choice is to consider right and wrong each equal possibilities for action in the world. And they choose what others choose to be wrong. They choose killing. They choose all kinds of criminal activities.

But the thing of it is, I feel: Here we are, living in the world … acting in the world. And we have to choose whether to act rightly or to act wrongly. From a practical point of view, if we act wrongly … if we break the law all the time … our tenure in physical form is likely to be brief. That is because the other people in the community will not like this; and they will take appropriate action against us.

So in a way, to act wrongly is wrong, even from the standpoint of that lofty point of view of Consequentialism, which that man holds …

Link: “The Karmic Consequences of Consequentialism,” by Alice B. Clagett, written and published on 30 September 2016 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-6cN ..

It is wrong because, if we value our physical body … which, clearly, he does … if we value staying alive … which, definitely, he does … then it will shorten that length of time that we can stay alive … and that is definitely wrong, I feel.

I heard him say to me once on the physical plane … if it be, in fact, the same person … he took me aside from the group that was walking. The prior night I had had a horrific dream about a man that goes out and kills people. I had had the same kind of dream every other night I had been in a physical locale where he was nearby.

So I had had this unfortunate dream about a man’s life being snuffed out, and a man standing by and laughing … gleeful, in fact, that it was happening. So I was upset that day, and I was walking along, and he took me aside and said that he himself really enjoyed seeing people die. He said he enjoyed it because of the Light that rose up from them and went away. It looked pretty to him to see that Light leave.

Well the taking of a life, or the viewing of a murder, or the viewing of a death, takes only a moment. Death takes no more than the very last inhale and exhale, and then relaxation of the chest muscles … which looks, to our hopeful eyes, almost like another inhalation. That moment the Spirit departs, it may be beautiful to see that there is a Spirit, and that the Spirit lives on.

But the true beauty in human existence is the life that we live before that death. It is the moment-to-moment choice to continue to stay alive, and to continue to have an effect on the world that will live on after we pass.

Be that effect good or bad? Those are the choices that we have in life. And I choose good. I believe in self-sacrifice, and in taking good care of other people … and in promoting the common good in politics and in government worldwide. Not in the petty wants and dislikes of one mere cult which, for its livelihood, picks whatever it picks, whatever it is that allows it to stay alive, that being ‘beyond the sphere of good and evil’. It is evil, in my eyes, to act thus.

Light
A Poem by Alice B. Clagett
19 January 2020

Why not choose the good?
Why not choose the Light?
Why pick the Dark when we can be bright?
Let us stand in the Light with all our might
… super bright … despite
what anyone tells us.

You all take care. Love you lots.

What a talk, I would say … on and on!

More on the Cannibal Man

I have talked about this person in prior blogs, here and there, helter skelter. I thought I would explain that I am pulling things together a little bit more in this video. But I am vague about the details, partly because almost all my information is from the astral plane, so I am not certain who it is that I am talking about. And secondly, I have a concern about possible lawsuits … that I might be sued if I were to be specific about someone, whether or not it turns out that they are the person … whether or not it turns out that such a person exists.

I am sure you will understand that. So while I am being vague in a way, as to physical facts and physical people, I am nevertheless trying to explain a psychic phenomenon and an ongoing astral story that is really very interesting to people who are keen on the paranormal.

The person about whom I speak appears to have a number of considerably daunting psychic abilities. One of them is the power to mind control groups of people, especially his cult …

Link: “Uber Mind Control,” drawings by Alice B. Clagett, drawn and published on 24 August 2019 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-e4a ..

And another is the ability to be ‘omnipresent’, as they say; or to bring his astral presence into the energy fields of any number of people, whether one by one or many at a time, I am not certain. It could be many at a time, especially if in the same locale …

Link: “The Spiritual Powers of Omniscience and Omnipresence on Earth Today: Things to Look Out For,” by Alice B. Clagett, published on 15 April 2017 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-781 ..

Let me see what else: I also experienced, for the interval of time that I was living fairly near the person that might be the one about whom I am speaking … and also at long distances from that person … a kind of astral ‘rapping’ sounds … very loud ‘rapping’ sounds, say, on motel roofs or in the floors of rooms above my motel room.

Once I tried making my motel room the top motel room, and lugging my suitcases up the stairs. Then I heard noises on the roof of the building! Let’s see what else …

Once I was sitting in a motel room far from this person, I thought, and I heard Wham! Bang! … banging on the door as if someone were furious and wanted to get into the room. I thought: Gee, it is too scary to open the door! You know? It was a second-floor door in the middle of the desert. I did not know anybody there. I had no idea what it was about. I sat up right away, and began to meditate, urgently asking that my timelines and dimensions be optimized, and asking my Ascension Team for protection.

And then I thought I heard a bunch of people having a party in a room up above, stomping and carrying on, and a lot of noise. After things calmed down, I stopped meditating and went and looked; there was nobody at all in the room above!

In addition I remember staying in a particular place, in a small apartment, and day after day, in the middle of the night, I could hear someone shuffling up, through the garage next to the bedroom window where I slept. I could hear the footsteps slowly approaching the bedroom window.

The garage was full of dust, and was never opened up. I would look out into the garage the next morning, and there would be no footprints in the dust!

Link: “Wham Stomp Rap,” a couplet by Alice B. Clagett, filmed on 23 January 2020; published on 24 January 2020 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-gac ..

So here we have a couple of things: The ability to mind control a number of people; the power of ‘omnipresence’ … of being a lot of different places; these ‘rapping’ sounds and ‘banging’ sounds; sounds of people having riotous get-togethers in the room above me; sounds of footsteps … I do not know what that is called.

Let’s see what else:  The power to cast a certain kind of quark at other people and cause them to fall down onto the ground, maybe in a dead faint or with disoriented senses, maybe with a fatal heart attack; the power to throw energy at people and cause them to collapse onto the floor or against a wall.

Pretty scary stuff, and negatively aspected, do you not think? So I was dealing with my fear of all this, because fear of the unknown, for me, raises up an anxious state, a generalized anxiety state that is hard to shake.

Only through faith, only through prayer; through being with people who have good will towards us … These, I have found to be the things that help. That is my understanding of it.

How the Game Is Played: ‘Master Plan’ in Action

Here is just a little more by way of background information: I was frightened at all that was going on, and I thought that it might have had to do with being in this other place not where my home is, here in Los Angeles. And so when I became very frightened, I came back to my home.

The Chill. There in Los Angeles, three things happened in pretty quick succession: My home was broken into, my car was broken into, and my storage shed was broken into. From the latter my second set of keys was stolen; these included house keys, car keys, and post office box keys. Subsequently important mail failed to be delivered at my post office box. Some of the people of whom I was afraid apparently followed me to Los Angeles, and I felt frightened of them as well.

The Cull. As well, according to the astral airs, a lawyer representing a member of the group from which I had fled contacted my local Los Angeles Police Department police station with slanderous allegations regarding me, placing a ‘road block’ against my efforts to speak with them about the trouble I was in. I inquired about this with LAPD, and came up negative; thus I thought that if interference existed in this realm, then perhaps it was astral rather than physical?

To top it off, according to the astral airs, the head of the West Los Angeles branch of the group in question … (The group I am putatively thinking of is national, and perhaps international, in character) … a woman whose charms none can call in question, compromised a long-time male friend of mine with an act of seduction she billed as a way for him to improve his love-making skills. Were this astral rumor to have proven true, it would have made it impossible for me to seek help from him.

These last are most likely apocryphal  instances of a technique known in confidence gamery as ‘the cull’; the victim or ‘patsy’ is riven from friendly relations and acquaintances through slander, blackmail, bribery, and seduction, either of the patsy or of the patsy’s friends and acquaintances.

All these things happened within not too long of a space of time.

The Lock Down, In the following months, my home apparently was walked into physically again and again. I would go out to run errands, then come home to find things missing. The burglar alarm acted oddly; when I reported this to the police, they characterized what was happening as ‘the perfect crime’.

Then it became clear that my websites had been hijacked; this jeopardized my email, which were open to hacking by the hijackers. In addition, I had a concern that my computer might have a remote ‘back door’; these are difficult to prevent, I feel, without random IP addresses provided by recent software improvements. For best privacy, and for best use during power outages, one needs to have a land line that is separate from one’s modem; this took three phone company visits and about a year to install.

How I Chilled Out

Overall, in the course of the next few years, I found that I was less and less frightened of the people I thought might be involved … the people I thought to be in a killing cult in another locale. And that lessening of fear I feel had to do with them not being in the place where I was. I do not think they decided to stick around, near my house; that is my guess.

So in a way the lowering of my level of fear from that experienced during those years, some years ago, substantiates the notion I have that the paranormal experiences I have described had to do with a particular group of people in a different place.

As I have explained, there is no way in the world I can prove it. And frequently psychic intel proves wrong, and steers one in the wrong direction. It is of better service in understanding the overall quality of the subconscious mind, and how it influences what happens here on Earth.

So then today, you see … quite some years later … I am that much less frightened of the negatively aspected paranormal, and of groups and cults that reveal that heretofore mysterious element towards the bad, towards the evil, towards bad luck in my life, than I was in years past.

Today I am able to sit down and piece things together for you, my audience, in hopes that, should you come across this type of situation, you will be able to extract yourself from it more quickly than did I.

Postscript: Battery Drain and Help at Hand

I finished the video and went to start my car. With no prior warning, the battery was completely dead. Was this a causal event, or only a test of faith? How is one to know?

I felt my energy field: Luckily my heart energy was not negatively aspected, as had been the case during a battery failure two years prior …

Link: “The Shadow of the Personality and Shadow of the Group,” by Alice B. Clagett, filmed on 24-31 October 2016; published on 1 November 2016 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-6kJ ..

I noticed a strong energy in my crown chakra. What could be the cause? I was parked on the shoulder of a narrow country road, well past the town of Moorpark, California. To the right of my car was a field of citrus trees. To the left, across the road, was a row of giant eucalyptus trees, whose fragrant leaves blessed me as I opened the car door.

Despite the battery failure, I could feel blessings all around me. Could it be that Devas of the Forest … Devas of these eucalyptus trees … had blessed me with their protection as I made this film?

I saw there was a horse ranch beyond the row of trees. It was a big ranch, with many horses stabled in outdoor, roofed shelters there. Then I saw a woman with a carrot, just opposite my car; she was feeding the carrot to one of the horses.

I asked her if she might have a cell phone, and if she might be willing to call a tow truck to come to my rescue. Happily, she agreed. So despite my remote location, and my lack of a means of summoning aid, I found that help was right at hand … in fact, cheerfully so … and willingly brought about my timely rescue.

The Worst of Oblations

The term ‘Greater Oblation’ in this instance refers to the sacrifice of Christ on the cross and to the Christian Eucharistic service. In that service, there may be a ‘Lesser Oblation’ or ‘Offertory’ that takes place before the ‘Greater Oblation’ …

Link: “Oblation,” in Wikipedia … https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oblation ..

From the standpoint of the troubles dealt with in this blog, one might also, ‘tongue in cheek’, consider how very much lesser in value than these might be the ‘Black Communion’ or human sacrifice practiced by the cannibal man and his ilk. This misguided practice is, by my lights, not the ‘Greater Oblation’ or the ‘Lesser Oblation’, but rather the worst of oblations.

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

See also … Link: “Compendium: Ensoulment, Soullessness, and Soul Evolution,” by Alice B. Clagett, published on 28 August 2018; revised on 4 October 2018 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-a4p ..

Image: “The Elevation of the Host,” by Jean Beraud, 1890s, in Wikimedia Commons, public domain.

Image: “The Elevation of the Host,” by Jean Beraud, 1890s, in Wikimedia Commons, public domai

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Creative Commons License
Except where otherwise noted, this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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antisocial personalities, killing cults, psychic abilities, psychic powers, psychic crime, psychology, psychiatry, astral case studies, circle of one, Alice’s perilous tales, Adventures with Alice, black communion, black magic, sacraments, communion, Christianity, faith, Holy Mass, Eucharist, self-sacrifice, common good, Consequentialism, philosophy, law enforcement, murder, cannibalism, mind control, my favorites, omnipresence, Wild West, electronic devices, astral planes, pyrokinesis, rage, anxiety, psychokinesis, psychic raps, courage, neutral mind, heresies, physical form heresy, causality, synchronicity, quantum physics, catastrophic childhood experiences, stories, stories by Alice, clair senses, soullessness, dark souls, devas of the forest, safety,

Subconscious Symbolism: She Tore My Heart Out . by Alice B. Clagett

Written and published on 22 January 2020

Dear Ones,

In the astral realm early this morning I encountered an amazing subconscious inversion of the metaphor ‘She tore my heart out’ … meaning that a woman walked out on a man. Apparently there is an antisocial personality who, in his subconscious mind, thinks of himself as ‘she’.

He is a group leader of a ‘killing cult’, and as a ‘circle of one’ person, figures he is married to all the men and women in the group. This group leader has his own definition of family … crime family, in his case. His ‘family’ consists only of the men and women who are his ‘wives’ and loyal followers, a la Charles Manson.

He has his followers murder (‘euthanize’) their parents and give him their parents’ goods and money. According to the ‘astral airs’, In 2015 this practice of euthanasia extended to the general community where he lives, as he had his followers euthanize old men there for their real estate, goods and money, or else for a payback by money-strapped relatives. Then the community ran out of old men who might be euthanized.

He also euthanizes members of his group when they reach their 60s, as their earning ability for him diminishes by then, and he wants to redistribute their real estate, goods and money to others more profitable of his followers.

This group leader purportedly kills his woman followers’ babies in the womb through his psychic powers, or else has them killed in ‘blood sacrifice’ rituals after birth. I am guessing he may figure … if this is true … that natal family bonding might diminish the hold he has on his followers. Also, if it were true, it might be he would figure that it would be a long time before a newborn could contribute income to his ‘crime family’. At any rate, there are no children, and no old people in his group … according to the ‘astral airs’ … except for himself.

When a man threatens to leave his group, this group leader purportedly cuts off the potential betrayer’s penis and swallows it. Then he has that man dress as a woman and bring in capital for him as a sex worker (through whatever acts of sex remain to him in his altered state).

Getting back to the metaphor in the title of the blog: As the ‘astral airs’ will have it, when a woman threatens to leave this leader’s group, he thinks of the metaphor ‘She tore my heart out!” As aforestated, in his subconscious mind, this leader thinks of himself as a ‘she’. Thus his  subconscious mind changes the meaning of the metaphor: It visualizes the leader tearing the heart out of the betraying woman follower.

That is in fact how it plays out time after time: A woman follower leaves the killing cult, or threatens to leave, or leaves and then comes back for a visit. The group grabs her, and on the dark of the moon, or on the full moon, in a forest clearing, mutilates her, ties her to a stake, and literally, physically, tears her heart out. Then the group leader and his wife drink her blood.

This is quite an interesting inversion of a subconscious metaphor, I feel. It is also an instance of the ‘physical form heresy’ …

Link: “The Physical Form Heresy,” by Alice B. Clagett, published on 17 May 2017; revised on 11 October 2017 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-7cY ..

… and of ‘black communion’ or ‘black Mass’ of Satanic lore. I note, in passing, that the instances of physical form heresy in the cited link purport, on the astral airs, to be stories of ‘acting out’ and leader’s advice to followers by the same killing cult leader as is described in the current blog.

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

See my blog categories: Grouping – leadership  … Killing cults  … Circle of one  …  Acting out  … and …  Antisocial personalities

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Except where otherwise noted, this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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subconscious symbolism, symbolism, metaphors, grouping, leadership, killing cults, circle of one, acting out, antisocial personalities, blood sacrifice, black Mass, physical form heresy, murder, euthanasia, genital mutilation, Satanism,

The Gatorade Kid . a poem by Alice B. Clagett

Written on 25 October 2019; published on 25 October 2019; video published on 24 November 2019
Added poem to: Tiny Anthologies: Wild West Poems

  • VIDEO BY ALICE
  • SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO
    • The Gatorade Kid, a poem by Alice B. Clagett, Soundtrack and Words

Dear Ones,

Here is a poem for you, about a tragic story part 3D and part 4D, that unfolded in Durango, Colorado, four years ago. Sometimes there is no way to redress the wrongs of the world except through story-telling, poetry, art, or song …

VIDEO BY ALICE

SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO

The Gatorade Kid
A Poem by Alice B. Clagett
25 October 2019
Soundtrack and Words

 

There was a kid
who lived outside
He lived right behind
The Iron Horse Inn

When the snows came
He would beg those within
for a chance to stay warm
from dusk to dawn.

The rent he paid was
a goofy grin
and if they required it –
a night’s love-in

One day I heard
a car drive by
I heard, offhand:
Would you like a ride?

and the kid said: Sure!

They stopped just offroad
in an evergreen aisle.
The man at the wheel
said with a smile:

Kid, wanna go the mile?
I can make it worth your while!

and the kid said: Sure!

Then I saw the boy’s face
contorted in pain
Oh! Why does it feel so strange?

He fell down bleeding by a back tire
On the ground down snow
‘Twixt the car and the lane

Two men guffawed
and drove away

The next day I walked out
my motel door
hoping to see
the boy’s face once more

I saw his Gatorade lying there
in a snowdrift
by a new guest’s door

It was tipped sideways.
It was half full –
the liquid bright blue
on the shoveled snow

Next day I walked out
with a flutter of hope
like a blue bird tangled
up in my heart

I saw the Gatorade
sunk in the snow
and my heart checked out
of the Iron Horse Inn.

. . . . .

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

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poetry, poems by Alice, Wild West, child trafficking, runaway children, murder, sex work, prostitution, 2u3d, social issues, law enforcement, amateur sleuth,

Doppelganger Dupe: A Halloween Tale . by Alice B. Clagett

Written and published on 8 October 2019

Dear Ones,

Here is a truly odd astral story, and somehow fitting for the approaching Halloween season: Crime families, as the astral story goes, are hiring actors and actresses and training them to mimic their marks so as to walk into the roles of marks that have been ‘snuffed out’.

In the realm of the very weird, these ‘movie doubles’ or ‘mimics’ are purportedly taking over the jobs of corporate heads ‘offed’ by drone warfare and people important to the government of countries.

Along those lines I heard an astral story a few years back that a president of a country was invited to a secluded resort at the beginning of his term in office. In the evening he was offered a liqueur with a lethal drug in it. His lifeless body, roped onto an oak schoolteacher’s chair, was secluded in an underground storm drain that lay beneath a busy city street. The next day his look-alike stepped into his presidential role, and no one was the wiser.

Astral stories like this no doubt are pure stuff and nonsense. But somehow that story struck a nerve in me. Had I had the guts back then, I might have gone spelunking in the underground storm drains of the Greater Los Angeles area, just to make sure nothing like that had happened in our beautiful city. Lord know, I opined, what we might find in the storm drains of Los Angeles.  However, then as today, I lacked the guts for that kind of spooky adventure.

On the good side, I am pretty sure that the highest levels of corporate and government security are right up there in terms of knowing whether their important people are true blue or imposters. No doubt their security techniques are first rate.

Were the astral rumors of ‘doppelganger dupes’ to have any basis in fact, the greatest trouble might be had by those of us who are not up to speed on mimicry, as may be the case with potential marks for confidence games and elder scams.

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

For more on this topic, search my blog for the term: mimicry

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Except where otherwise noted, “Awakening with Planet Earth” by Alice B. Clagett … https://awakeningwithplanetearth.com … is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License (CC BY-SA 4.0) … https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/ ..

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law enforcement, crime, confidence games, crime families, drug war, drone warfare, corporations, government, doppelganger, Los Angeles, mimicry, elder scams, murder,

Astral Confessions of Murder: The Catholic Sacrament of Penance . by Alice B. Clagett

Published on 25 September 2019

Image: “Confession – The Cathedral of Bern,” by Vodnik, January 2007, from Wikimedia … This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported, 2.5 Generic, 2.0 Generic and 1.0 Generic license ..

Image: “Confession – The Cathedral of Bern,” by Vodnik, January 2007, from Wikimedia … This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported, 2.5 Generic, 2.0 Generic and 1.0 Generic license ..

Dear Ones,

I was in a Catholic church some while ago and a murderer confessed to me on the astral plane during Mass. When this happens I am terrified, as I have a natural repugnance to violence; yet this world is full of violence and murder; I run across it on the astral plane all the time.

To this day I remember, as if it happened but a moment ago, the shock I felt when a person boasted on the astral plane: I have killed 700 people!

I was set down here on Earth to learn how to hold the extremes of the Duality play with a neutral mind. Yet since I started to learn this technique two decades ago, I had had nearly no success at it.

Instead, when a murderer confessed to me on the astral plane, I would feel repugnance, and the need to bring the murderer to justice, so that people in future might be protected from the murderer.

Justice in the physical realm cannot be accomplished through clair insight. For murder to be punished, physical proof must be found, and the murderer brought to court; then a judgment must be rendered that sequesters the murderer from the general population, for their protection.

Lacking this means of physical proof, over the decades I have been weighed down by confession after murderous confession, on the astral plane. First, there was the weight of my knowing about the murder, and my natural repugnance regarding such acts. The victim being beyond help, I also lacked the means to lift up into the Light the spirit of the unrepentant murderer.

Second, a great number of murderers knew, on a subconscious or conscious level, that I knew they had committed murder, and, I felt might try the same with me so as to prevent me from telling other people about their past.

With these two concerns: My upset over life on Earth, and my concern for my own safety, I early on began looking round for ways to ease the emotional affect. In recent times I started to use an inexpert variant of the rites of the Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation … Link: “Sacrament of Penance,” in Wikipedia … https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacrament_of_Penance ..

That day at Mass, as the man confessed on the astral plane to a murder, I began my simple variant of the rites. Then a Deacon from across the room interrupted and said he and the other men in the room would deal with the issue of confession of murder during Mass from then on. I was greatly relieved to hear him assume this responsibility, and amazed at the tools he had at hand.

The Deacon said, in a neutral voice, on the astral plane: You murdered a person?

The man said, on the astral plane: Yes.

The Deacon said, in a neutral voice: Anything else?

The penitent said that was all.

The Deacon said … if I recall correctly: Are you sorry?

The penitent whispered: Yes.

The Deacon said: Would you like to be absolved?

The penitent said: Yes.

The Deacon then offered a simple way to expiate the penitent’s sin; perhaps a prayer he might recite, or a thought of self-renewal that he might carry in his heart.

Then the Deacon said this, or words to this effect: I absolve you of your sins in the name of Christ Jesus Our Lord. May your sins be forgiven, your future life blameless, and on the day of your passing may He meet you with an open heart, and welcome you into his home in Heaven.

When this astral exchange happened, a great weight was lifted from my heart. It was as if I had been carrying the sins of many murderers in my heart for several decades, for lack of a way to absolve these people of their sins. And now the path before me was clear.

Simultaneously, the astral air in the church where the Mass was taking place became redolent with Light. It was as if Christ were embracing the congregation with compassionate love; as if His heart lit up the hearts of the celebrants.

The man who had been penitent was also transformed, and this transformation extended even to the physical level, as his shoulder muscles relaxed and his breathing became more relaxed.

Because of the transformative experience at Mass a while ago, I have come to appreciate the rites of the Catholic Sacrament of Penance and Reconciliation very much indeed.

I ask those of my fellow Lightworkers who are Catholic to forgive my inexpert attempt at relaying the rites.

Tricky as it may be to express ourselves as intuitives in a pastor-parishioner relationship, my idea is it might be helpful to seek instruction from our parish priest regarding the weight of our knowledge of the sins of the world.

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

I have added this blog to … Link: “On Getting to the Truth of Astral Stories,” by Alice B. Clagett, published on 6 July 2016; revised on 25 September 2019 … https://wp.me/p2Rkym-5Ow ..

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Except where otherwise noted, this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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astral stories, serial killing, imprisonment, threat energy, murder, confession, Catholicism, sacrament of penance, sacraments, sacrament of penance and reconciliation, neutral mind, justice, law,

Ice . a poem by Alice Clagett

Written on 19 September 2019; published on 21 September 2019
Added poem to: Tiny Anthologies: Wild West Poems

  • VIDEO BY ALICE
  • SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO
    • Ice, a poem by Alice B. Clagett, Soundtrack and Words

Dear Ones,

Here is a new poem for you …

VIDEO BY ALICE

SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO

Dear Ones, It’s Alice. I Am of the Stars.

This is a poem called “Ice” …

. . . . .

ICE
A Poem by Alice B. Clagett
Soundtrack and Words
19 September 2019

This is a fictional, narrative poem.

 

I said, I’m a charity trust trustee
Ought I stay on the board or leave it?

He said, Why live with clutter?

Out of the corner of my eye
I looked round at his office

No papers, no books, no cabinets
Just a laptop and a printer

Ok, I said. I agree

As he handed me the paper to sign
his eyes cut like a razor

.   .  .

He said, Here are your POA forms
One is for power over health
the other for just about everything else

If you want
my wife and I
can provide that service for you

His eyes looked clear, like river ice
early on, in the winter

Ok, I said. I will sign them

.   .  .

His eyes turned blue like the midday sky
as he handed me the papers

Here’s a form, he said,
that I always advise
it’s important for your children

After 3 days they pull the plug
it saves them from commotion

I said, I don’t like that form at all!
Look at me – I’m the picture of perfect health
and then, I have no children

His eyes glinted like sun on snow
He said, My advice is to sign it.

.   .  .

He opened the door to show me out
Then stopped for half a second

My wife, he said, does health massage

I said, May I have her number?

.   .  .
.   .  .

She said, I can’t see you at my job
They’re fixing the floor in my office.
I’ll do the massage at our home instead

Her voice was like raspberry jam on toast
Why did that concern me?

What day? I asked
with a frog in my throat

She said, I’ll get back to you

Two weeks later, I found the door
of the place where she and her husband lived

Here, she said, is my new massage table

Her hand touched the cloth
in the way that a priest
offers the Sunday Eucharist

.   .  .

I don’t disrobe for massage, I said
I hope you can work around that

Her lips froze
Her eyes assessed
Her hip touched the edge of the table gently

Would that be ok? I asked

Ok, she said. Lie down here.

.   .  .

This is a new technique, she said
You’ll be the first to try it
and she explained cerebrally
the ins and outs of the method

Then out of the blue, it seemed to me,
she said, Do you know Catherine?
I have known her for years, she said
and I really like her

My eyes froze, then relaxed. O yeah.
It’s Catherine that’s working back in town
next door to this young lady

A hunch formed in the back of my mind
Then disappeared
before I could see
more than a claw
or the look on the face of it

.   .  .

A man in a hat
that concealed his face
walked in from the yard

As he cleared the lintel I saw
the door was still half open

His shadow lay
like a long black line
on the floor at the foot of the table

Who’s that? I asked

O, she said,
He’s just a gawker from next door
You don’t mind, do you?

I said, Yes I do!

The stranger stopped inching towards us

He turned round in the cool dim room
felt for the door with his left hand
and stumbled into the sunlight

.   .  .

My blood turned hot.
My hands got cold
My heart got a speeding ticket

I sat up.

My gosh, I have to go!
Here, let me pay you

. . . . .

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

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Except where otherwise noted, this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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poetry, poems by Alice, Wild West, law, law enforcement, 2u3d, murder, confidence games, Alice’s perilous tales,

A Ghost Story: Rose of Rose Valley . by Alice B. Clagett

Filmed on 28 August 2019; published on 29 August 2019

  • VIDEO BY ALICE
  • SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO
    • Photos by Alice

Dear Ones,

Here is a sad ghost story for you …

VIDEO BY ALICE

SUMMARY OF THE VIDEO

Hello, Dear Ones, It’s Alice. I Am of the Stars.

Here I am in Rose Valley. And I was listening to another ghost story while I was walking … a sad ghost story. And it goes like this …

There was a lady named Rose. Her mother was pretty ill, and she was helping take care of her mother during her final illness. She found out one Christmas that her sisters and her uncle had removed a seventh of the money from her father’s trust fund that was destined to go to her and to her sisters and brother. They removed it that December, and she wondered what to do.

So she talked to the lawyers, and the lawyers said: Just ask them to give the money back. About that time was time for her to return to her own home, out here in Rose Valley, and do the work she had to do at home. And while she was there, her mother became very ill. And so she sent back, as soon as she could, to her mother’s house, and arrived just in time, because her mother passed on that very day. That was the lucky thing. She loved her mother so much!

Then after the funeral, she brought up the issue of the missing money to her sisters. She said it would be best to put it back, before an accounting was made, so that everything could be legal. And her sisters became very angry.

But when the accounting was made, and the family got together, they handed the money back to the father’s trust account. And then came the time when a voting had to occur on the family business. But because of the removal of the money, Rose felt she could not support the family business; and by her veto, the family business was disbanded. And that made her sisters and their spouses very, very angry.

Still, over the years, she thought there might come a time when they would be a family again.

One time at Thanksgiving, one of her sisters invited her to join the family for Thanksgiving dinner, which involved going quite some way from Rose Valley, I understand, and going to that sister’s area. And there she stayed with her uncle, because her sisters had not agreed to let her stay with them.

Her uncle had a little money, and he was an unmarried man. While she was there, he mentioned that he had disinherited her. He didn’t give a reason; he just said that.

The next day was Thanksgiving, so she went over to her sister’s place, with her uncle. And all of the sisters and brothers and husbands and wives and children were there. There was a lively conversation at the table, but she was not included in it.

The food was very good, very good indeed. And everyone had their own goblet of water, too, beside their plate. At the end of the dinner, people were talking and laughing and having a good time together, and ignoring her … I think ‘social snub’ they call it.

She lifted up the glass of water by her plate, getting ready to drink some. And suddenly, all the conversation at the table stopped. Everyone took a deep breath in … and held their breath! So she looked at the water in her hand, and she waited a minute. No one breathed. No one started talking.

So she took the water out to the kitchen and poured it out.

A day or so later the family was to meet at her uncle’s place, and she was going to have dinner for them. It was snowing. She got the dinner ready. And an hour before the dinner, her sister called and said that they decided not to come after all.

The next day she needed to go back home. So she left for home again, which was quite at some distance. And she called her uncle up, on the way, and asked him how he liked the dinner she had prepared. And he said: To tell the truth, he had thrown it out.

Some years went by. Rose wondered if … if there might have been poison in that glass of water … and if there might, why might it have been there? What might have been the cause for that? And she thought: People who would poison … poison a sister … must be used to killing. They must have done it before.

And the horrible thought came to her, that her mother, that she loved so much, might have been killed by her sisters and her uncle so that they could get her money. Worse yet, she wondered: Would that same fate befall her, one day?

And so she lived her life here in this beautiful valley … pretty much a loner … happy with the birds and the flowers and the wild animals … glad that the Sun rejoiced in her presence, as she rejoiced in its.

And that is the story of Rose and Rose Valley, to the end of her days on Earth.

Photos by Alice

Image: “On the Way to Rose Valley, California,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “On the Way to Rose Valley, California,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “Rose Valley, California 1,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “Rose Valley, California 1,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “Rose Valley, California 2: Blue Damselfly,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “Rose Valley, California 2: Blue Damselfly,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “Rose Valley, California 3,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

Image: “Rose Valley, California 3,” by Alice B. Clagett, 28 August 2019, CC BY-SA 4.0

In love, light and joy,
I Am of the Stars

…………………..

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Except where otherwise noted, this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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ghosts, ghost stories, Rose Valley, death, murder, stories, stories by Alice, greed, fear, photos by Alice,