Orgonite is entirely harmless. If that weren’t so, there would be no grassroots, global, gifting network; this essential, planetary healing work would be left in the hands of a few talented folks, as was the case with Dr Reich’s powerful, but potentially dangerous cloudbusters. ‘A few talented folks’ would never get it done because winning any war is a numbers game, and the bad guys’ genocide wishes might have been granted in that case.
‘Gifting’ is what we call distributing simple, orgonite devices, (usually homemade), in the environment in a systematic way, to initiate and sustain positive energy transformations. ‘Orgonite’ is the energy-producing material that is basically made up of resin and machined-metal waste. This simple, powerful material was eventually developed from the earlier findings of Dr Wilhelm Reich, who called the trans-dimensional, subtle, energy matrix of the universe, ‘orgone.’ He invented that term after scientifically discovering that the energy released during sexual orgasm is pure, creative force. We like to honor his life of education, healing, ground-breaking research and selfless service by using his term for the energy matrix, which others have named ch’i, prana, life force, animal magnetism, odic force, vril (!), etc.
Until we all came along, the What To Think Network had essentially erased Dr Reich from public memory, a process that was cemented within a decade or so after his death, when crackpots and scholarly pedants, rather than serious researchers, had felt obliged to carry his banner. These are among the sorts of people he detested when he was alive, strange to tell. The other class of villains he named, besides sycophants, fake scientists and mystics, were corporate business types. I think the only mystics who were popular the West in those days were Theosophists, so who can blame him? Now, his work and writings are being resurrected, due to renewed public interest in orgone, and that’s very gratifying to many of us.
Dr Reich was a sweet natured, unshackled, self-effacing genius and productive scientist, who was able show us how to consistently and systematically apply the creative force of healthy orgone to achieve widespread, beneficial results. When the What To Think Network was taking him down in the early 1950s, after he achieved wide acclaim for improving the weather and curing cancer, they tried to make him look like a sexual deviant, but he publicly recommended monogamous heterosexuality as the only healthy expression of this essential human drive.
In fact, when he was the favored protégé of Sigmund Freud in the late 1920s, he was expelled from the communist party because, after discovering that the ‘angry workers’ who attended the rallies were mainly angry because they weren’t having sex with their wives any more, and after counseling many of them to resume sexual relations with their spouses, they just didn’t feel angry any more, so lost interest in supporting communism.
For that matter, Freud blackballed him in the 1930s because Reich was successful at healing mental illness; Freud was only concerned with analyzing it, as you probably know. Freud’s analytical skill found a proper outlet, finally, when he headed British Secret Service’s Tavistock Institute, the world’s premier brainwashing institution, in the late 1930s. Fortunately for us, Dr Reich was driven out of Europe and the psychiatric profession, and then put his first efforts into researching the characteristics of orgone and applying his knowledge in the US.
The day before he was murdered by poison in a federal prison in 1957, Dr Reich handed a manuscript to his sixteen-year-old son, Peter, who is still around, apparently. The book allegedly has a full description of how gravity works. That was a day before he was to have been released from prison. He was railroaded through a kangaroo federal court, on account of his healing successes. There have been many, many casualties in the Federal War on Healers, since the mid-1930s, but those casualties have always been on our side until now. Before the American courts were handed over to a London corporation, by FDR and a treasonous Congress, the American Medical Association simply hired the Mafia to dispatch genuine pioneers, in then healing arts and sciences.
The spontaneous, grassroots campaign to heal the world and end tyranny with orgonite distribution and orgone-tossing, (predator safaris), is indeed, a numbers game, not a talent show. The arena where the more gifted few among the network can shine is in the creation and intelligent use of potent interactive devices, which usually include orgonite. Reputable, skilled psychics can gather intel for our mass-murderer hunts, and can accurately analyze the effects of new inventions and perhaps help find applications for them.
The prize takers, though, are the ones among us who simply distribute the most orgonite because every war’s object is to take and hold territory. Disabling the death energy matrix in any territory takes real estate away from the occult/corporate pirates, who polluted it in the first place. It’s much the same way we get rid of parasites in the body with micro-current, when we use a zapper: ionize the parasites’ immediate environment, and they can’t stay there and exploit it any more. Blasting key predators in occult/corporate hierarchies is like destroying the parasites in the body with micro-current.
The emergence of the proprietary approach to healing with orgonite might be a matter of timing, and the time may be near when people who have special energy-related talents can network properly and internationally on a very wide scale, thanks to the internet. We’re just the vanguard at the moment.
In the formative years, most of the people in the network who were promoting proprietary devices were disreputable, but in recent years most of the inventors have been team players and self-effacing, (meek). The most dramatic work will get done by masses of committed, ordinary folks like me, distributing simple orgonite devices to other people, after we’re done disabling the millions of death transmitters on land and on the seabed.
This summer, (2006), we intend to have a few proprietary devices in use, conceived and artfully crafted by Jeff McKinley, to have on hand to suppress any HAARPicanes that get generated, in spite of our best efforts to disable the weather warfare facilities. Dave Emmett in Barbados has been instrumental in getting it done in the Caribbean region, beyond the US.
The genuine aficionados are pretty spread out: Kelly McKennon and Ryan McGinty in Washington State, Cesco in Iceland, Tetsuzi Moriwake in Japan, Jeff McKinley right here in our little town, Carol, D Bradley in LA, Tracey Ann in UK, Eric Nagal in the Phillipines, Kizira Ibrahim in Uganda, and vo Joanna in Brazil to name a few and many more gifted, inventive, cordial and committed people will probably show up before long.
Cesco, an accomplished, young multi-media artist, as well as inventor, developed a unique, three-dimensional coil form, which many of us have been using to enhance our interactive devices. His site is http://www.soulbalm.com. Carol and I feel that small versions of his coil were instrumental in suddenly stopping the seismic activity at the Yellowstone Caldera, when we buried twenty-six earthpipes, (most of those had the coils in the orgonite component), around the hundred-mile perimeter of that caldera, in October 2004. A massive eruption was imminent, then, which threatened to erase human civilization.
The September day after we left our first batch of orgonite, (made by Jeff—we were staying at a campground when we arrived in Florida last fall), just beyond the surf in the sea near us, some surfers at that beach saw some black-backed spinner dolphins swimming very close to shore, in the spot where we’d dropped the orgonite. The local pods are bottlenose dolphins and they’re grey-tan colored, so the spinners apparently came from somewhere else. These smaller, black-backed dolphins got the name because of the way they like to spin, as they leap out of the water.
A notoriously friendly member of the bottlenose dolphin pod had been murdered in Jupiter Inlet, some years before, and the pod wasn’t seen until Jeff recently had the experience on the beach, which I mentioned in the previous chapter. Carol recently saw spinner dolphins in the Loxahatchee River, a mile and a half inland from Jupiter Inlet. She was driving over a bridge at the time. Tossing orgonite into the water has turned the inlet blue-green again and full of fish, after many years of being polluted and lifeless.
Our first direct encounter with the spinner dolphins happened in mid-December, during our first gifting sortie out of Jupiter Inlet, which is when we found and disabled the dozen or so new underwater transmitters, directly to the northeast. In fact, the pod was hanging out around the last underwater tower we gifted that day, about five miles out. We ran out of orgonite there, (we later returned on New Year’s Eve to disable the few remaining towers beyond that point), but Carol tossed them a couple of ‘dolphin balls,’ which she makes especially for dolphins and we keep on board for these occasions. Several reputable orgonite vendors, including <a href="http://www.ctbusters.com/"……/a>, <a href="http://www.quebecorgone.com/&q……/a>, <a href="http://www.orgoneaustralia.com……/a> and <a href="http://www.orgonise-africa.net……/a>, make and sell their own excellent versions, by the way.
Steve Baron and crew, in Toronto, meticulously made and distributed thousands of dolphin gifts to people around the world for a year, before we got started here in Florida. I think that generated a lot of momentum for this project. Steve generously sends us hundreds of those at a time, which we deliver to the cetaceans and share with other gifters. Steve also enabled Georg Ritschl of http://www.orgonise-africa.net to gift along the entire Indian Ocean coast up to Zanzibar.
It may be that the same pod which has been showing up at the end of most of our local gifting sorties, also greeted us once near Key West, where they specifically asked Carol to lay a line of orgonite along the shore to block the radiation of a ‘weather ball’, at Key West Naval Air Station. We did that on our way back from gifting the sixty miles of reef, that day. If you ever come across a radome on your sorties, please gift it! They’re all particularly heinous components of HAARP weaponry, in addition to whatever legitimate radar function they might also serve. Surprisingly, it only takes a couple of towerbusters to neutralize one of these horrors, if you can get within a quarter mile or so, otherwise you’ll need to toss a lot more towerbusters out farther away, hopefully surrounding the facility. The most dramatic effect we got from disabling a weather ball, was when we erased a creepy looking, dark conical field around one near Spokane, Washington, with a couple of towerbusters. The entire atmosphere lightened up, for several miles around, right away then. It’s amazing how much bad energy these domes can throw out.
Carol’s gone to Hawaii a couple of times to swim with the spinner dolphins, which frequent a bay on the Kona coast of the Big Island. If you want to meet dolphins you don’t need to pay for a tour. You’ll get better interaction, (especially if you take them some orgonite), any day and for no charge, if you just swim out into Keelakaua Bay. That’s where Captain Cook first landed in the Hawaiian Islands.
Rockefeller-funded environmentalists, (Nature’s Conservancy), are trying make it unlawful for you to swim with those particular dolphins, but I don’t think they’ll succeed. Short of that, they’ll probably continue to try to scare people away from those wonderful healers. They go out in boats to terrorize swimmers—no kidding! Strange world, eh? Just ignore the environmentalists, when you go there.
One of those environmentalists swam with the dolphins on the sly, when the rest weren’t watching, and Carol encountered her on the beach on her way to swim with them one day. The woman was weeping uncontrollably and told Carol, ‘I had no idea!’
The Florida spinner dolphins show up for us in odd places, including the shallow Indian River, behind Hutchinson Island, (about thirty miles north of here), when we laid some orgonite along that waterway from the south. Later, when Jeff and I laid a line of towerbusters for forty miles from Jupiter Inlet, past Palm Beach to Boca Raton and back up the intra-coastal waterway toward Jupiter, the spinner dolphins showed up as the sun was setting, and we’d just tossed our last towerbuster—that was in a narrow part of the waterway, a few miles south of Jupiter, on our return leg.
That time, they let us approach much closer and Jeff and got a couple of Carol’s dolphin balls ready for them, as I slowly drive the boat in a circle. As per Carol’s instructions, when we saw the dorsal fins we immediately slowed the boat and turned toward them. When they changed direction we steered the boat in a slow, tight circle and they paralleled us about thirty yards away. Right after the second ball was tossed, we saw an upwelling of water right next to the boat, as from the flip of a dolphin’s tail.
Carol said that this pod has never been close to people, and that it may be a month or two before they’ll invite us to swim with them.
The pod that our African cohorts recently encountered near Mombasa were a little shy, as David Ochieng noted in his report, which is on ethericwarriors.com, but I bet they’ll be able to swim with this pod when they return, because they suddenly appeared and swam all around the boat quite close, after Mrs Odondi felt inspired to toss out some orgonite.
David and the group’s local guide, (‘beach boy’), got into the water with the dolphins the first day out, but the pod vanished after David lost his balance for a bit, and made a splash. I suspect that their next trip to Mombasa will include many more people, by the way, and I hope to get them a digital camera for a graphic record. Judy Lubulwa Mwangi and the other new gifters in Nairobi, may want to go along with our Western Kenya cohorts next time.
I love the way Africans can network, and Kenya may soon be the showplace for gifting’s power to heal the environment and society. Uganda, where the first Africans took to gifting and cloudbusters, is already so nice that it’s harder to track the improvement there, but Kenya is in dire straits, so the observed results of gifting are more dramatic there.
When Carol’s grown kids, Nick and Jenny, came from Idaho to visit us in early February, Carol dragged the tailored boat down to Key West, and took them out to Sandy Key, which was the terminus of our 40-mile reef-gifting run a couple of weeks before, when we encountered the spinner dolphins.
Sandy Key is the place where huge sailing catamarans take groups of snorkelers from Key West to tour the reef, several times a day. It is six miles west of the island. Cosgrove Shoals, another fifteen miles west along the reef from Sandy Key, is where people normally go from Key West to swim with bottlenose dolphins.
Another place nearby is Bimini, which is directly across the Gulf Stream from Miami, about sixty miles. That dolphin pod wasn’t seen for an entire year, before Steve Baron showed up there, last year, and tossed some of his dolphin gifts in the area, then they showed up immediately, eager for contact and perhaps more orgonite. They probably knew he was coming before he knew he was going—we can’t begin to fathom how deeply telepathic, aware and savvy these creatures are. The professional dolphin-tour proprietor forbade Steve to drop orgonite into the water from their boat, so he hired a boat and did it on his own, which is when they showed up. A lot of environmentalists are misguided.
It may be the Cosgrove Shoals dolphin pod, which showed up at Sandy Key right after Carol tied to a mooring buoy at Sandy Key, and they obviously wanted some up-close interaction, because they were swimming close by, all around, and under the boat, in that crystal-clear water.
I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a dolphin’s dorsal fin break the surface nearby but it’s a little daunting the first time. On Carol’s excursion to Sandy Key that day, her son, Nick, was the first to spot them and he yelled, ‘Shark!’ which fairly terrified Jenny, his younger sister. Carol was reluctant to get in the water because she didn’t want to cause her kids more anxiety, but they tossed some balls, at least, and got a healthy dose of dolphin love for a half hour or so. As soon as another boat came into view, the dolphins vanished. I had stayed home to start writing this book.
If you’re energy sensitive, you can find underwater death transmitters by scanning the horizon for eruptions of DOR from the surface of the sea up to the sky, at around low cloud level. From a distance, the area just looks smoggy to anyone else. If, like me, you’re not particularly energy sensitive, you might have to trust that the dolphins will eventually take care of those, if you toss enough orgonite out. Just like with The Operators, though, it’s probably not productive to second-guess their agenda. The towers closer to shore might be causing you some angst, but the massive death transmitter arrays in the deeper water, farther away, are much more threatening to the dolphins and whales, we believe.
When you get to the ‘eruption’ site, you’ll likely see a tower, an object or at least a dense concentration of fish, close to the seabed, on your sonar scope. Fish, as I mentioned, don’t seem to discriminate between DOR and POR and they generally congregate around underwater structures, anyway. When DOR prevails in an area, though, very few fish are found swimming in the open water.
Dolphins show up on ordinary sonar scopes, (‘fishfinders’), as very large fish, because sonar bounces off of air chambers in sea creatures, and dolphins have lungs, so the chambers are much bigger. Affordable fishinders show fish and objects as symbols, not photographically.
If you’re not energy sensitive, just toss a towerbuster every half mile or so, throughout the smoggy area in a grid fashion. Use your GPS to track distance and direction, if you’re like me. You’ll probably see the smog disappear before you even head back to port.
Sharks don’t have air chambers, by the way, so they don’t show up on fish finders. Sharks go where the fish are, like robbers go to banks, but they won’t be seen where there are dolphins, don’t worry.
Jeff had been taking orgonite out to sea on his surfboard, before we moved back to Florida, and once a five-foot long spinner shark leapt out of the water directly in front of his board, as he was paddling out. I would have been daunted, but he kept going.
We had assumed that these underwater transmitters, northeast of Jupiter and St Lucie Inlets were set up to discourage dolphins from approaching shore, especially since we saw a Navy, (may have been Chinese according to what Carol was seeing psychically at the time), destroyer, idling in those waters about five miles offshore, the first time we gifted the ocean in September.
Lately, Jeff saw a ship idling in those waters during the night, every night, but we later figured out that those transmitters seem to relate more to an occult activity, affiliated with the nuclear power plant on Hutchinson Island, 30 miles north of us. We’ve been doing more work in those waters and gathering more intel. Whatever was done from the ship has apparently failed to take effect, because there’s still no persistent smog out there. The towers are all on a shelf that’s around a hundred–sixty feet deep, and within easy range of divers.
A week after Jeff tracked that ship’s nocturnal activity, he and I took a load of towerbusters to drop parallel to the beach along Hutchinson Island, which is twenty miles long, and to particularly gift in the vicinity of that nuke. A ‘diffuser’ is shown on charts, extending on the seabed for two miles out from the beach, east of the nuke, which is quite close to the beach. The south end of the island is St Lucie Inlet; the north end is Ft Pierce Inlet. The nuke is approximately in the middle.
Indian River is what the body of water behind the island is called, though it’s technically a long, wide lagoon, not a river. It’s part of the Intracoastal Waterway, which is a connected system of channels, canals, estuaries, rivers and inlets that starts in Canada and goes all the way along the East Coast, around the entire Florida peninsula, and along the Gulf Coast all the way to Mexico. It’s been a handy gifting asset for when the seas are rough, because we can arrange for the seas to be behind us, during the sea-gifting legs, and return to the boat launch facilities on the relatively flat waterways. The Sylphs seem to like it when we gift the waterway because some of the brightest ones we’ve seen have showed up during the inland legs of our sorties. Manatees are seen in greater numbers on the waterway soon after we gift, too.
There were no fish at all on our scope along the way, north of St Lucie Inlet, and the water was quite opaque; a sickly chartreuse. When we got to the diffuser, a couple of unhappy-looking Feds were in a boat, anchored close to the beach in the rough water. They weren’t even pretending to fish. Their boat was bobbing in the roiling, brown water that was coming up from the diffuser, and drifting north with the current. That water looked just like the Mississippi did before people gifted it, in fact—opaque, bilious brown. The sea bottom in that area is white sand, by the way. I bet those two guys got pretty sick because even though Jeff and I still had a lot of orgonite in the Zodiac, we still got a dose of radiation sickness from being there just a few minutes. We dropped several towerbusters along the diffuser’s length, then a big Holy Handgrenade at the end of it, which is two miles from the beach. I was wearing my Harmonic Protector, which may be why I didn’t get as sick as Jeff did from that. Jeff wears his on gifting sorties now.
An ‘HHg’ (Holy Handgrenade—I named it after the device seen in MONTY PYTHON’S HOLY GRAIL) is a cone or pyramid-shaped orgonite device, four or five times bigger than a three-ounce towerbuster, which has a fancier crystal in it and a simple, cone-spiral coil. The shape, mass, crystal and coil get you more bang for the orgonite buck but they’re a little more difficult to make, so we get most of the jobs done with simple towerbusters, which can’t be beat for creating synergistic effects through distribution, after all.
On our way back to the boat ramp on the Indian River from Ft Pierce Inlet that day, we saw a persistent smog bank that had just formed at cloud level southeast of the diffuser, in the vicinity of the new underwater towers, and there was a sometimes-flashing UFO weaving in and out of that suspended, dense yellowish-brown energy field, appearing and disappearing. Carol told us that this visible energy field was a thought-form that was generated by people underground at the nuke plant, using the deadly orgone radiation produced by the reactor itself. Before long, that smog bank disappeared. I think the UFO was being used as a last-ditch effort to keep it alive. We’ve often seen flying saucers attempting to save deadly energy fields, and sometimes they ‘refuel’ at the larger death transmitters and along high-tension lines. This is pretty common, actually, so keep your eyes open, if you want to get your own evidence, okay?
We saw a similar, but less dense, moving-against-the-wind smog bank develop, months earlier in the same spot right after we gifted the backside of that nuke, in the Indian River. That one was moving like an enormous flock of birds, which may indicate that it’s a ritually-generated thoughtform, (bear with me), that’s sustained by the DOR from the nuke plant. Remember that the bad guys use DOR to get their destructive, parasitic work done, similar to the way that we use life force, (POR), for our healing work. One application of thought-forms is to influence the minds of entire populations, which might be why we sometimes feel relief when we leave the US. Carol mentioned that the thought-form being fueled by that nuke plant, may have been used to prevent the people in the area to waking up to the reality of the damaging effects of nuclear radiation. When people aren’t dumbed down, they’re more likely to take notice of skyrocketing cancer rates in their area, for instance. Ordinary commercial nuke plants cause cancer in endemic proportions, for about forty miles around, as Dr Reich discovered in the early 1950s.
I once saw one of those enormous forms moving up into the sky from an Air Force base, north of Sacramento, California on one of our gifting expeditions, and when I asked Carol what it was, she said, ‘I’m amazed that you saw it, too!’ She told me it was a nuke-sustained thought-form. The reason I could see it was probably the same reason anyone sees smog: positive-charge static field that causes toxic, (dark; solid) matter to remain in colloidal suspension within the energy field. Orgonite in the vicinity generally ionizes these energy fields, causing toxic colloids to drop quickly to the ground, and neutralizing much of that in the process. Orgonite cloudbusters do this in the upper atmosphere for many miles around, and you can point a cloudbuster at any smog bank, if you want to see it disappear in a few minutes.
My lovely second wife, ‘X-2,’ had worked at Seabrook Nuke Plant for fifteen years, before I met her in 1996 and from our conversations I gathered that very, very few people who work in nuke plants reach retirement, because they most often die of cancer, long before that happy, lucrative eventuality ever comes around. It’s not a problem to shield from the effects of nuclear radiation, but it’s impossible to shield from deadly orgone radiation, which extends, relatively unabated, for forty miles from an average nuke, and is most severe closer to the source, (the reactor).
I think that a nuke plant is the ultimate parasitic creation of the occult/corporate world order, because it kills lots and lots of people from a distance silently, gradually and undetected. They found a way to do it within neighborhoods, more recently with the new death towers, which mainly broadcast deadly orgone radiation. Think about how evenly these nuke plants are distributed across population centers, especially in Europe, and note the sky-high, cancer death rate, in those areas closer to the nukes. Now, factor in the countless thousands of smaller, unregistered, nuke generators underground, which power the new death tower and HAARP networks. The bad guys clearly intended to cause most of us to have untimely cancer deaths.
It’s the DOR that sickens and kills people in the area, of course, not nuclear radiation. Nukes just happen to be the best way to generate DOR, which is perhaps why there are so many of them now. Your power bill didn’t go down, by the way, in spite of the Nuke Cabal publicist prostitutes’ enthusiastic claims that your power bill was going to be dramatically reduced—remember?
Your power bill also didn’t go up, when millions of death towers suddenly sprang up all around the world in the fall of 2001. That’s because the new, unregistered, underground nukes are powering up all of that new weaponry. They’re all on their own underground, power grid.
Carol and I found out, in the Namib Desert east of Swakopmund, Namibia, that distributing some orgonite around a nuke-waste dumpsite immediately gets rid of the persistent smog over the site, which might mean that it’s also transmuting the waste itself into harmless material. A full life of ten minutes is preferable to a half life of ten thousand years, I think. The European nuke cabal dumps a lot of its waste in sparsely populated places around the world, like the Namib Desert. They probably just dump most of it at sea, when nobody’s looking, which is yet another reason for us to give orgonite to dolphins, of course. These are some of the corporate folks who fund the environmental movement, which is why schizophrenic poseurs, who want humanity, (all except them, of course), to die, so that ‘the beleaguered goddess’ may thrive, won’t ever mention it.
Inexpensive free-energy devices, made in every city, town and village on the planet, will soon do to the poisonous nuke industry, what they will also do to their Siamese twin, the Petroleum Cabal: why would anyone need to buy electricity or burn gasoline under the circumstances? These mostly-simple inventions are already made and proven, and many have been around for over a century, contrary to what Colonel/Agent Bearden has been claiming in his charming, but enervating, narcotic techno-babble obfuscations. Cheap zappers are going to do the same thing to the Pharmaceutical Cabal, the hospital gulag archipelago and the bloated, rotting Western cadre of wealthy serial killers, (MDs).
Obfuscate: to make unclear; bewilder—from the Latin root that means ‘darken.’ As our discernment gets sharper, we begin to honor the instinctive feeling of revulsion that comes up when we encounter disinformants, even the charismatic ones. If we all had the discernment of dogs and little children, we’d be ahead of the game by now.
According to French historian, Jean Markale, the Middle French root of the word, ‘obstacle’ means ‘devil.’ The disinformation cadre on the internet who make up the What To Think Network’s rear guard, ‘strategic retreat,’ campaign, have been a formidable obstacle to discernment for struggling sleepyheads, but they’re ultimately just a challenge or test for the more persistent among us, I think.
How are we going to take down the Gold and Diamonds Cabal? We could decide to trade with seashells, which certainly have more real value than dollars do, so maybe it’s a non-issue. When the French left Haiti they took all their gold, so the Haitians agreed to use little dried gourds from a rare tree and that worked as well as gold. They still call their currency, ‘gourds.’
That behemoth on Hutchinson Island was the first nuke plant that Carol and I ever gifted. That was in November 2000, and we found it in an interesting way. We had just arrived in Florida from Pestilence, Texas—oops, I mean, Port Aransas, a place where the Gulf of Mexico was beleaguered by constant red tide. Why we didn’t think to toss orgonite in the Texan Gulf, in those days, escapes me at the moment, especially since we expressly gifted a major vortex and Atlantean relic, on the coast to the north of Port Aransas. As I said, ‘common sense’ is an oxymoron. We intend to get over to the Florida Gulf Coast pretty soon, and end the perpetual red tide near Sarasota, though.
I was lying on the beach at Ft Pierce Inlet State Park getting some sun, and had the Terminator zapper on my belly. Carol saw a huge amount of blue orgone streaming up, out of the Terminator, which indicated to her that something not far away was generating a massive amount of DOR. Looking around, she could see that the source of the DOR was to the south. As I mentioned, part of the function of orgonite is to transmute ambient DOR into healthy, positive orgone radiation. When a source of DOR is nearby, orgonite puts out more POR. This principle is the essence of how we’re undermining tyranny, by neutralizing its poisonous infrastructure.
The next day I made a small orgonite device at our RV campsite in Ft Pierce. We drove south for ten miles from that beach, and there was the nuke, right beside the highway. Carol saw brown energy extending to the horizon in all directions and she felt nauseous, but when I put the orgonite device in the bushes, as close to the nuke as I could safely manage, the brown energy field shrunk to a spher, whose outer limit was at the orgonite device. She felt fine again, too. The sky instantly became brighter and small, white cumuli began to form, all around us.
That was our very first effort to counteract the effects of deadly technology. Before that, we had only put orgonite in a few vortices to heal them and to get their energy spinning in the right direction. That was a month before we invented the orgonite cloudbuster.
We got our first intimation of that curious transmutation principle several months earlier, as we were driving past the nuke plant next to I-95, north of Portland, Oregon. Carol was driving her car behind the Zapporium at the time, which had a lot of orgonite in it. As we approached the nuke from many miles to the north, a huge fountain of energy erupted from the back of the Zapporium, and it increased until we passed the nuke plant, then decreased gradually for many miles past it. A year later we tossed a bunch of orgonite in the water next to that plant, and it was de-commissioned soon afterward. Ooops. I don’t think I’ll be arrested for printing this, because we’ve disabled scores of nukes since then, (mostly unregistered ones), and told about it with impunity. Lots of folks have been doing this, in fact, and so can you.
During the following May, as we were driving through an area of Eastern Oklahoma, where tornadoes were being generated by HAARP arrays, Carol was driving her car behind the truck and frantically signaled me to pull over. She said that the cloudbuster in the back was throwing out so much orgone that it was obstructing her view. I moved the CB so that it was pointing out the front windshield of the truck and then she could see the road again. We plowed a tremendous blue furrow through the dark, HAARP muck in the sky, that day. That was six months before the death towers sprang up, all over the planet and changed the equation a bit.
The orgonite device we left in the bushes at the Hutchinson Island nuke plant was likely found and removed, of course, because in those days we weren’t as aware of the constant surveillance we were no doubt already under. Gifters, these days, know how to block surveillance tech and discourage pavement artists, (the ‘spycraft’ term for professional spies who follow other people discretely). Jeff gifted that nuke again a couple of years ago, but whatever it is that people are doing underground was apparently neutralized on our last gifting sortie there.
Our very first environmental ‘gifting’ effort was on my big brother’s and his wife’s, (Jim and Melody Croft), heavily-wooded property in Northern Idaho in the summer of 2000. Melody, who is psychic, felt troubled every time she passed by a particular spot along a trail on their land, and Carol said that an elemental is discontented about something that had transpired there, and wanted redress from humans, who had caused the imbalance, before my brother bought that particular piece of property. We tossed a few ounces of orgonite in the bushes, and after that Melody said it felt good to be near that spot. Carol talked to the elemental and told us that he was ecstatic and grateful for the perpetual energy gift.
We apparently chased some parasitic aliens from a nearby, pinched vortex after that, restoring the vitality, form and proper spin to the vortex. It was the first time I clearly saw an alien, in fact, and he wasn’t pleased. Pirating earth energy isn’t only done by human parasites, of course—just mostly done by human parasites.
In January 2002, another level of environmental gifting produced the ‘flying dolphin’ confirmation, when Rick Moors put the first orgonite device into the Pacific Ocean from a jetty, at Redondo Beach in LA. Sea gifting became Carol’s and my main gifting interest, after she had the extended interaction with the vast pod of rough-tooth dolphins off Costa Rica in December 2004.
Right after Carol’s experience in Costa Rica, a series of confirmations started being reported from all over, including more than a few first hand accounts of human-dolphin interactions involving orgonite.
For example, Eric Carlson, who lives in Boston and was vacationing/gifting extensively in South Florida shortly after that, tossed two orgonite towerbusters out into the surf, during a walk along Miami’s South Beach. Within a few minutes, a manatee was seen where he had thrown the first one, and a blue whale nearly beached himself, a little later, in the spot where Eric tossed the second one. The whale’s historic visit was filmed, and it made the six o’clock news, though nobody knew what Eric had done, and he was as surprised as anyone by what happened.
One of our challenges, as gifters, is to recognize the genuine miracles that happen as a result of our efforts. I think we’re conditioned to believe that miracles are only real if there’s a symphony orchestra, or angelic choir in the background, like in the movies.
A few weeks later, two beluga whales were seen swimming around in the Delaware River, sixty miles upstream. That was widely covered by the media, too, and those small whales interacted with a lot of people, who went out in boats to see them. A gifter in Pennsylvania contacted us to say that he’d left a lot of orgonite in that river, just upstream from there, where the water became too shallow for the whales to swim.
A beluga whale that was seen in the Thames River in London, by British Secret Police Headquarters, wasn’t as fortunate, though his companion apparently escaped being captured and murdered, at least.
In May 2005, I spent the day riding on the ferries in Puget Sound, tossing specially made orca gifts over the rail, from Orcas Island to Seattle. Orcas hadn’t been seen in recent years, and I wanted to see if they’d come back for orgonite during the following summer. A pod of orcas showed up in Puget Sound, 30 miles south of Seattle, near Tacoma, after a fellow who lives and gifts in the Seattle area tossed two dolphin balls in that spot. The appearance of that pod made the news, too.
My first cetacean encounter was with a beluga whale. He was in a tank at the Vancouver Aquarium, where I took my family in 1988, after we moved from Saco, Maine to Mt Vernon, Washington, an hour north of Seattle. This circular tank’s top was about three feet off the ground, and you could walk around it.
As I was passing by, the little white whale raised his head out of the water and looked directly at me. I felt compelled to approach him, and when I got close he spit a stream of water in my face and then quickly turned with a flamboyant splash, which also got me wet, and swam away on the surface. I guess that was a sort of baptism. That was a period in my life when I was just starting to break free of the occult/corporate treadmill—I hadn’t yet started my own business and I was still being severely abused at home by my spouse; yes, I was a typical, programmed sap.
My next two cetacean encounters happened about a week apart in October 1995. I had just lost my family to a horrific divorce court, after being maltreated by a profoundly unhappy, psychotic, predatory woman for 22 years, then publicly cuckolded, then divorced by her. Wham, wham…wham!
That turned me into a grieving wanderer, barely sane, but, as I said, when The Operators can’t lead us to our destiny, they might drive us. Even in the worst of my torment I knew it was all preparation for something that I’d eventually be doing. I didn’t have a clue what that could be until years later. Sometimes we just get strong intuitive hints, when we’re passing through that valley of torment, and I think those come from The Operators, as a token of their mercy and encouragement.
Initiations take a lot of forms in this life and if you’re lucky yours aren’t that traumatic. When we sharpen our instincts we’re more likely to be led to new awareness, rather than driven. I’m not complaining; just stating some things for the record, so maybe you can get your self-empowerment work done the easy way, instead. The following tale can be an object lesson for you in this case, grid willing.
I’ve never been happier or more productive than I am right now, and my future looks bright, but if X-1 hadn’t slept around and then divorced me, I’d no doubt still be with her and couldn’t have begun the work that Carol and I are doing now, because X-1 constantly sabotaged my efforts to develop myself externally, and I chose to just take it, rather than stand up for myself—well, until the end: the day after I gently took a stand, she told me that she would divorce me, which she did after another year or so of torture. If you’re married to an incorrigible saboteur, you have my deepest sympathy, but if you won’t stand up to that one in an appropriate way, you’re not going to move ahead, either. Why wait until you die to earn your freedom?
I simply assumed, in my ignorance, that the purpose of life in this transient world is to go through whatever torment, imposition and strife is meted out, with as much contentment, faith and detachment as one can develop, in our short span of years. I later learned that this is the same luciferic, dualistic, mental programming, which enabled the Church of Rome to create the dark ages in Europe, so that personal attitude is anything but innocuous. The way I was, I’d have been one of those bystanders who didn’t lift a finger to oppose the tyrants who rounded up innocents in twentieth-century Germany, Russia, China and Cambodia and herded them to the killing fields, but I’m getting a whole lot of satisfaction, now, from effectively standing in the way of their American counterparts, who dearly want to do the same thing here, now.
I’ve always known that our best personal, spiritual achievements are usually the result of having successfully acquired genuine detachment, which is usually gained through trauma. I loved X-1 in spite of her constant abuse, and I wanted to keep our four kids from getting the worst of it, so I allowed her to direct it at me. I’ve never, before or since, encountered anyone with such deep and sustained hatred as this gal had displayed toward everyone who was close to her.
The fact that a life of personal sacrifice, as epitomized by Father Damian in the Molokai leper colony, and also by parents of severely handicapped children who opt to care for them personally, is an honorable one muddied the waters for me spiritually. In those cases there was simply no other option except to expend one’s own life energy, in order to sustain others. I would have stayed with X-2, of course, if I hadn’t been cuckolded and cast out, the latter being done under the auspices of the Federal Reserve Corporation’s court and leg-breakers.
I was a fool, though, for not taking the children from her by reporting her physical abuse toward them, and there’s no getting around that. I won’t make excuses for myself. What I knew was at risk, if I took that course, was that the Child Protective Services agency in our county, in cahoots with all of the judges, were in the business of kidnapping blond, blue-eyed children, when any report, (real or false), of abuse reached them. Our kids all had those physical features, so they’d have gotten top dollar, on the open market. I thought I was in a no-win situation but, with hindsight, I really ought to have taken the abusive mother to court during the early part of the divorce process, and done the deed for the sake of my children, regardless of the threat.
In an old, Persian poem, by Rumi, there are two young lovers, named Majnun and Layli. Majnun has lost Layli and seeks her everywhere. He goes through untold suffering and danger and, pursued by watchmen, (cops), he scales a garden wall, throws himself down on the other side, exhausted, and finds Layli. It’s a good parable that describes the process that one often goes through to find a new truth or level of awareness. This illustrates how one properly feels about seeking truth; it’s a drive as essential to humanity as the drive to find a mate, in fact—more essential, really, since we can all be happy without physical love, but nobody can be dynamically happy in complete ignorance.
Thanks to the ‘hundredth monkey’ paradigm, which I believe is valid, when enough members of a specie get to the comprehension of a new truth, everyone else automatically gets it, too, more or less. The new truth that my own suffering eventually led me to, is that ‘the meek are inheriting the earth,’ and it’s likely that you won’t have to slog through the pure, personal hell I had to go through along the way, to this realization. You’re welcome!
I had completed a seaworthy little boat, during the year after the separation, prior to the divorce, when I was living in my funky little sign shop on the outskirts of town. After I failed to sell the successful business, (I couldn’t bear to see her with her boyfriends, because I still loved her, against all reason), it seemed logical, in my torment, to eventually just sell off the equipment, and take my boat on a trailer to warmer seas—a familiar, remembered comfort during my youth in the West Pacific Ocean, that looked pretty appealing in my debilitating torment. Being on the water tends to heal us.
The reason I couldn’t sell the business, is that almost nobody was able to do hand lettering any more, and my reputation was built on my creative talent and my hand skills, not on the computer-generated vinyl signs that had come to dominate the sign industry during the previous decade. I did that work, too, of course, because ‘work no due; no work due.’
If I’d been able to sell the business, I could have set up again in an area far enough away, that I could see my kids without having to run into X-1 and her tag-along beaus, every day. It was a pretty small town, after all, and I just couldn’t seem to get detached from my torment. Much later, after I stopped desiring X-1, I realized that it wasn’t the boyfriend thing that was stealing my energy; it was simply being within her convenient reach that bled me out, etherically. That never happens accidentally, folks; it’s intentional. There are some people in this world who thrive on stolen energy. I bet you know one or two of those, because they usually assume positions of authority or influence, within the receding social and institutional paradigm. X-1 eventually married a multi-millionaire, for instance.
Some guys can tough it out and re-create their lives under those circumstances, but I simply lacked the strength or skill to do that, frankly. Every contact with her, even on the phone, left me as vitally flat as though I’d been assaulted with a cattle prod.
D Bradley is going through that, right now. Even though he, too, was cuckolded and cast out of his own nest, where he had been a stay-at-home, loving and watchful dad to his four little sons for six years, he stays nearby, living in his pickup and giving all of his money to his Ex, who has the support of her well-to-do parents and, presumably, her lover, who is allegedly a successful architect. I know he loved her as much as I loved X-1, but maybe the phenomenal personal discipline and training he acquired in his youth from Torkum Sassarian, one of the dark masters of the Great White Brotherhood, is actually an asset right now. In that case, the training was designed to make him a good research tool for the dark masters.
The Feds made sure he could never get employment, have a passport, or re-establish a capital-based business, after he turned against the Great White Brotherhood, and was later shot and killed by a government-employed sniper at close range, in 1999.
On top of that, the occult/corporate machine are doing their best to erase him from public awareness, again, so I hope you’ll purchase some of his peerless orgonite wares from his website, http://www.thevine.net/cbswork. Also, download and watch his free, half-hour documentary film, “CHEMTRAILS: CLOUDS OF DEATH”, from http://www.ethericwarriors.com or http://www.worldwithoutparasites.com. He never intended to make a nickel on that film, so it will always be given away.
I was rather consigned by circumstances and my own weakness and instability, to live in my car and travel around, painting signs for subsistence, too depressed to stay in one place for more than a week and too poor, at any rate, to have a home. During that time I encountered an enormous, hidden segment of society that I’d been unaware of: ‘deadbeat dads;’ fellow wanderers—the new hobo class. This is the sort of thing that can ha