struck by lightning and other ordinary experiences

Most messages I receive from beyond this world come in dreams, which have to be decoded. This post today, however, centers around messages I sometimes receive from beyond this world in plain English, usually but not always when I’m asleep. Probably not recommended reading for Christians, New Agers, or most other people.

A faux pas in yesterday’s the prosecution of Bernstein Development, Inc. for trespass post, I said Lt. Dupree works for U.S. Fish & Wildlife. He works for Florida Fish & Wildlife.
Received a most interesting video yesterday from a lower Keys amiga, which I tried but was unable to transfer into a post or email. However, the following chatter than accompanied it accurately describes what I saw in the video. Whether or not it was doctored, I cannot say, but it opened the door to discussion of my own experience with lightning strikes that changed my life permanently, as well as terminally, so to speak.

Every time we think “it’s bad out there”….just remember
it could always be worse…you could be this guy who gets struck by lightning twice!
Notice there’s no marks on the pavement before the lightning strikes
and you thought your luck was bad . . .
this guy get struck by lightning twice!
wonder how scrambled his brain got?
My reply:
Were I this person, I would have started asking God unceasing why I was still alive and what did God want from me?
I once was struck by three successive lightning strikes in a space of about five seconds, but it was spiritual lightning. After that, God started showing me what God wanted from me. Horrible.
Her reply:
That guy didn’t look like he was completely coherent (even before the strikes)… probably didn’t stop to think about any significance.
Were your strikes while you were awake or during a dream?

Wonder how scrambled his brain got?

The most significant thing that I had happen spiritually was when my 15-year-old brother was in the hospital in a comma (after a car ran off the road and hit him) and late that night, I was on my knees (at home) praying feverishly for a healing intervention for him. Needless to say, I was extremely distraught, when a sudden, whoosh of complete peace came over me and I remember looking up wondering where that came from. I was smiling and basically giddy, but then I felt guilty for feeling happy and tried to force myself back into feeling distraught, BUT I couldn’t even cry. So, my reaction was that YEAH, he must have been healed. The next morning though, I got the call and found out that he had actually died the night before (at the time this happened). I felt spiritually betrayed, but later came to believe that my sudden emotional transformation was likely from when his spirit left his body, passing over me and giving me peace, perhaps to let me to know that he was alright and for me to not feel bad. That’s my take on it anyway.
Another thing that has stuck with me was when I was only 5, I fell through the hay loft in a barn, onto the cement floor in the basement and was knocked unconscious (my parents were NOT big on doctors and I woke up on the couch, several hours later). Anyway, I remember seeing my Uncle carry me into the house from an elevated viewpoint, about 10-12 feet above and behind him. Funny, because I remember seeing my blond head laying over his shoulder and knowing that was me, although I had not seen myself from that perspective before.
My reply:
I was awake, having been awakened in the wee hours by what I took to be two angels hovering above where I lay in bed in the darkness. They clearly were spirit beings, not human features, but human shape. No details, just the shape, white with some light blue. I heard, not quite like with my ears, but just as clearly, “This will push you to your limits but you asked for it and we are going to give it to you.” I remembered a prayer I had made about ten days before, described in a moment. Then, came the three successive lightning strikes. Then, the beings dematerialized. By now, I was starting to shake a bit and sweat some, aftershock, I suppose.
The prayer was made in a moment of abject despair, after I had conceded failure in every way possible as a man. In that wretched state, I prayed, “Dear God, I do not want to die like this, failed. Please help me.” I paused, teared up. Then I added, “I offer my life to human service.” Perhaps hoping I would succeed there, having failed everywhere else. That was what I remembered when I heard I had asked for it and it would push me to my limits but they were going to give it to me. I have written of that exerience quite a few times in posts since I came to the Keys in late 2000. It was the beginning of the end for the man who made the prayer, and the beginning of the beginning of the man he would become, still unravelling.
I wrote something much longer about the ensuing bizarre adventure to Sancho Panza yesterday. Perhaps I will publish it, use yours as a lead-in. As for your brother, yes, that is my take on it, too. His soul kissed you as it moved on. One of my wives’ told me of a somewhat similar experience when her father’s soul left his hospitalized body. A dear man friend told me of a similar experience with his former wife and mother of his and her only child, whom he nursed through her last illness until she died in his arms and her soul enveloped him. Such things I have heard of through reading, as well. There is far, far more to this life than ordinary eyes and ears can see and hear.
However, the most unsual of such experiences I heard of happened to me when my deceased son’s spirit returned to me and entered by body. It took about two weeks. I felt it happening emotionally and physically but knew not what it was. It felt wonderful and it felt big and it seemed like a really tight fit. I started after this poem fell out of me in April 1994:
Only fools rush in
where angels fear to tread,
But if there were no fools,
Who’d lead the angels?
After the infusion was complete, I heard sort of like I heard the message just before the three lightning strikes, “This thing coming into you is your angel twin . . . (pause) by the way, this is your son.” I was wide awake, taking a walk one morning when it happened. I nearly collapsed to the ground, and I wept.
I thought then it was wonderful, but looking back, maybe it made it even more difficult for me, as now there were t two of us in this one human frame, and I don’t suppose we had the same exact agendas, and who can say what part he does and what part I do, and what part we do together? Like I said, this was the most unusual of such experiences re a soul that left a body, but in this case, the soul came back into another body, mine.
This, too, have I written of numerous times in posts, and many other unusual experiences from the human perspective. It all started with that message, followed by the three lightning strikes. Before that, I was as normal, so to speak, as everyone else I knew, although already my thoughts and interests were well toward and into the paranormal, having not done so peachy with the normal. Thoughts and interests are one thing, though. Actually experiencing the paranormal is something else entirely, and boy did I experience it! And boy am I still experiencing it!
Her reply:

I do recall your earlier writings on this topic, but it is all clearer now, thanks for the recap. I grieve for you every time you speak of losing your son. I vividly recall how heart-wrenching it was to lose my brother, but can only imagine that losing one’s own child has got to be the limit of suffering a person can tolerate. What a senseless loss and your ex must (or should) be paying dearly for her significant part.

My reply:

Certainly, I paid dearly, and all I did wrong was love him and his mother more than I had ever loved. It’s a miracle I was able to love again, his sisters, other women, friends, but by then I was so screwed up internally, the roar from that was seriously disruptive, and then the angels stepped in and taught me disruptive beyond anything I possibly could have imagined.

Sancho Panza is a retired Lucent Techonologies scientist, who perhaps has read just about everything ever written in English, Spanish, French, Latin and Patios, and has a pretty good memory retention, although, perhaps lucky him, he has told me he is not aware of having had any experiences that were not of this world. 

Sancho to Don Q:

I was just thinking how hard it must be for you to do what you do… everyday you put on this face to meet the faces that you meet… like Prufrock, you go up and down the stairs… seeking a chance to impress Lady Dulcinea. But where, oh where is the intimacy? The place to call home, take a break and let somebody else carry the load?! A true Lawyer/Shaman who tends to the dispossessed and the possessed alike, but cannot himself declare moral bankruptcy and break the bond on(in) his head… how much is a soul worth these days?

Don Q to Sancho:

I get few serious inquiries, Sancho … yes, every day I get up and face what is before me, and perhaps that is putting on face when i don’t wish to be here any longer and usually I feel barely able to move … yet that face I keep not hidden … been a while since there was a lady to try to get to know better … one came onto me about a month ago at Looe Key Tiki Bar, a serious honky tonk … first time since Biker Chick, but this one was more coy, I finally told her she reminded me of a coyote, which she said meant nothing to her, although I wasn’t sure I believed her … but in case she really didn’t know, I said coyote is a trickster and I preferred wolves … she was making heapum big dollars doing interior design for heapum rich peoples, like all the nice things and nice restaurants, couldn’t imagine what she was doing in a honky tonk coming on to me … she had read some of my writings on the Coconut Telegraph of … then, I was rastlin’ with the cyber cowards and the website host for providing them cover … she said I should walk away, not given them any more of my time … I said might be she was a messenger from above, I’d have to hear what the angels said … she didn’t seem to take that in, kept after me … I said, if she really kept up with me on the Coconut Telegraph, then she knew I am an assassin … it’s what I do … she didn’t seem to think I meant I kill people and put them in the mortuary, like some slow wits around here might think I meant by saying that … been an assassin quite a while now … it came with my shaman induction … “Shaman you now are … angels walk beside you and call you their brother … even as you curse the heavens for making you one who wields the lightning … be kind to your brothers and sisters, but take no prisoners … kill them all in my name, so that you and they might live … ” That was April 1994 … I already was killing people for a few years before that … apprentice killing, I suppose … it got a lot more intense after that news came from out of the blue … and I got killed plenty more times myself … and my killing practices evolved and multiplied further, even as I felt less and less like a shaman and more and more like a Melchizedek priest, although the shaman always was there … you know from your own readings that the “eagle’s gift” is without repentance, you cannot get out of it … yesterday, June 7 was the anniversary of the poem “Shanghaied” that was given to me I now understand by the same provider of the shaman announcement, the Christ … I told my brother Major in a nap dream yesterday, meaning I told his surrogate Todd German, who was in the US Special Forces, that I am to be a pure as I can while causing as little harm as possible … simplest way to state it, even though the definition of harm means different things to different people … when I say I’m shanghaied, I mean it … my life is what the angels provide … they sent that women to me at the honky tonk … she was interesting, attractive, and definitely into fun and disgusting behavior … it oozed everywhere around us … I asked her if she was going to listen to what she felt going on inside of her heart and elsewhere, or was she going to act as if she was smarter than God? I figured she was waiting to see if I took her advice about laying low on the CT … the angels weren’t through with me dealing with the cyber cowards and their aider and abetter, who is my friend … when the angels were through with me there, I walked away and quit reading the Coconut Telegraph … after she saw I did not walk away on her advice, and it looked to me like she then posted something to the Coconut Telegraph telling me she was going to take her own advice … nothing from her since, nor have I seen her around … how can someone experience what she experienced inside, and walk away … but I have wondered the same thing with other women who walked away … it seems to be Adam’s test, ongoing … to follow Eve, or to anchor into God and leave Eve for God to deal with, or not … in my line of work, life, when a women is thrust toward me by the angels, it is to give her a chance to hold my hand and together, with the angels’ help, we try to walk back into Paradise … quite a fiery trek, based on tries with six different women … each enjoyed serious spirit hookups, yet the call of this world was stronger for them and I was on a trajectory that put this world in hind teat at every turn … morally bankrupt I was in early 1987, when I prayed to God for help, then offered my life to human service … then angels came in the night and woke me up and told me it would push me to the limits but I had asked for it and they were going to give it to me, and I was jolted by three successive bolts of spiritual lightning … the dots connected from there to the shaman announcement about the lightning, and from there to the assassin role I play every day of my life now, even at a honky tonk with a seriously attractive lady coming on to me even though I was probably twenty years older … but for her, all of that history you have heard many times before, and you know my answer never changes, except some of the later stories update it a bit … I am shanghaied, Sancho … I cannot escape what has me in its grip without using lethal force against my own body … this seems incomprehensible to all with whom I have this discussion … their incomprehension doesn’t make it not so, though … I imagine killing myself would be declaring moral banktupcty again … I don’t feel morally bankrupt today, just worn out and defeated … and expecting more of the same, while hoping for it to go easier and be more enjoyable … satisfying is not the same thing as enjoying, but perhaps it is more important … I suppose I will know the answer to that some day, but right now I am darn glad I am not the same man who made that desperate prayer in early 1987 … I felt then that I had failed in every way possible as a man, by my own hand … today I hope I am not failing spiritually and mostly view the failures in my endeavors the angels dream up as their and and other people’s doing … you are gravely mistaken, Sancho, in your occasional attempt to convince yourself that there is a physical remedy for my conditon, or something short of physically lethal I can do to get off this ship of fools on which am chained until further notice from the Captain … or Admiral, if that seems more accurate … seaman
Sancho to Don Q:

I think that there are some things you could do… things you could try and see!!! I think they are worth a try… they will not hurt you… the antibiotics you took when you had the staph skin infection were a lot more harmful than what I am proposing, yet somehow you decided to used them… how you decided to do that is a mystery to me? If I am to buy the idea that “Angels” protect you! Why did they allow you to take the one thing that would “poison the competition”. Why didn’t they cure you themselves? The logical conclusion is that these “angels” had their reasons… maybe they like it when you are weak, suffering and tired! Why? 

Instead of Angels and Demons, I propose that there is a “brain” in your gut which is as cunning and capable of controlling your emotions your thoughts… your dreams, as is the ganglia of nerves we called the frontal lobes a.k.a.  Sloan!   That’s the breakthrough discovery that is not being let out fully… that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. Your ability to sense other people’s true nature, their demonic “possession” is due to a specific ability of a recently discovered mechanism, called “quorum sensing”… bacteria can communicate information to each other to act in cohort,.. scientists theorize that it is done chemically but I think it’s also a quantum none-local phenomenon and you, like any other shaman has tapped into it… you have inadvertently come in contact with your ” allies”, but in your case they are not at your disposal, you are at theirs they are your masters… they were our animal helpers in primitive tribal mythology… they are angels, saints, spirits in ours.

The problem is that before a shaman apprentice was ready to tap these “powers” it was required that the seeker go through a process of purification to become a warrior to lose all attachment/identification and become a very powerful, determined being that would be able to survive the encounter with these inner parts of him/her self. You’ve tapped into something that you were not prepared to handled… the rest you know better than anybody… you have been deconstructed and reconstructed a number of times already… you are definitely a warrior now but your biggest battle has not yet taken place… I wonder if you have any time left?

Don’t get me wrong I am not at all proposing a Shamanic explanation for all this… I am merely pointing out that my theory of the Microbiota as the hidden source of what we know as our spiritual dimension fits the shamanic model, that you like to place yourself into or for that matter any other model that is based on spiritual power reciting at the center of the belly, no matter what it’s called: Hara, Tan Tien, Lower Chakras, your gut feelings, the terrain spanning between solar plexus and upper thigh is acknowledged as a center of power and wisdom in some; folly and disgrace in others.

Please, do not use this for your blog… I want to know what you think! I am thinking I should write a book about it….. Something like… “S.H.I.T. Some Holy Intestinal Tale”   
Don Q to Sancho
Finally, Sancho, you send me an explanation of what you wanted me to consider, instead of garble from other people, after I asked twice for something simple. Always you look for a mechanical, science explanation for that which your mind cannot cope. I have told you before that my gut disturbance onset overnight in 1969. I went to sleep one night feeling like I’d always felt physically. I awoke the next day and my bowel was blocked. From that moment, it has been a part of me, sometimes more bothersome than other times, but even on good days, pretty rough. It had nothing to do with taking antibiotics, as I was not taking antibiotics back then. It had nothing to do with taking antibiotics in 2003, to try to be cured of a life-threatening MRSA infection. After numerous rounds of antibiotics, I had a dream that left me feeling God would cure the MRSA, if I took just one day’s round of the latest antibiotic prescription and then left the rest up to God. I did that, and the MRSA infection then outbursting on my skin went away and did not come back like it had been doing following cessation of each round of antibiotics. When I shared that healing with a friend, he said he had MRSA and wanted to try the same cure. So I gave him one round (two pills) and he took them that day. The next day he said he was fifty-percent better, and wanted to take the whole cure. I said he was taking the whole cure, to have faith. All this I told you before, too. He said, no, he wanted to take the rest of the antibiotic prescription. I could not believe my ears. He wanted to pay for it. I gave it to him. That night in my sleep, what you theorize are bacteria, asked me in my sleep, “What do you think of the species?” This was the same voice that had asked me three nights before 911, “Will you make a prayer for a divine intervention for the species?” This is the same voice that had told me a few months before 911, “You are an ordained Melchizedek priest going back into a prison in which you once lived, to try to help people still living there; you cannot do this work correctly, if you are looking to get anything back from the people you are trying to help.” This was  the same voice that told me, as I looked dead at two celestial beings hovering above me in the darkness in early January 1987, after they woke me up, “This will push you to your limits but you asked for it and we are going to give it to you.” Then, I was struck with the three bolts of spiritual lightning. Some time passed, then something happened, as if a light switch was thrown, and suddenly I saw and  heard everything on this world differently. And you say this is bacteria. Bacteria that can see and predict the future, as hardly a day passes that I don’t dream of something that has not happened, and I realize it was forecasted in a dream after it happens. And you say bacteria do this. Bacteria that can see the future. This thing in my gut is spirit-based. It will resist any mechanical, science method. I know this, because it has resisted any mechanical, science method in the past, and spirit methods, too. It has resisted to the extent of making me feel so much worse than before I tried a mechanical, science method, or a spirit method, that many years ago I gave up trying to defeat or cure it in that way. You know nothing about being shaman because you are not one, and for you to even contemplate writing about shamans as someone who knows, as opposed to simply reporting what they tell you of their experience, is pure megalomania. This thing that ails me is, it seems to me, karma. I am not at liberty to discuss the details, but it is certainly deserved. Certainly, there are mechanical, science symptoms, some of which might even be measurable in a laboratory. But that’s all they are, symptoms, and to treat them with what you suggest is being held under lock and key, perhaps by pill-making companies, which don’t like competition, is nothing more than taking pills for me. Nothing more than taking antibiotics for MRSA, when the MRSA is rooted in spirit disturbance, which the MRSA was in 2003. My third wife, with whom I was when I was turned into a shaman, during four years of which my bowel did not move at all without my using enemas, came to me in a dream and examined her vagina and said it had salmonella and cancer. That represented two different women I had just had a big falling out with, one a girlfriend, the other just a friend. About two days later, the MRSA lesions erupted in my pubic region and one on my right buttock. And you say this was caused by bacteria. Take the shit out of your ears and out of your brain, if you can. Report what I tell you, if you wish, but presume to know what is going with me, or with any shaman, at your peril. You have no clue how I have been tested in ways that would have killed you, or caused you to kill yourself. I am being tested again now. I am always being tested, pushed to my limits, as was promised in early January 1987, by what you call bacteria, at which I was looking dead-on. I have heard that same voice, you call bacteria, many times. It told me to leave Maui in late 2000 and go to Big Pine Key. I had no money. Three days later, I was en route. You say bacteria did that. You say bacteria told me in my sleep a few months later, “You will fail, but you might enter the Kingdom of God.” I answered the question in March 2004, “What do you think of the species?” something like this. “I don’t like being asked that question, but since you asked … The species has lost its creativity and is cloning itself spiritually and devolving. If I am the best you have to show for heaven helping a human being, then you are wasting your time trying to help human beings. Even if you tried on others, what you are doing with me, maybe 50,000 people would survive worldwide. Perhaps kinder to remove the species from this world and put them some place where they at least have a chance of moving forward.” Since I gave my reply, it has not changed, other than I felt all along demonic influence underlay the condition I described in my reply. That Lucifer liked the species losing its creativity, that is, its feminine aspect. I dreamt last night of writing about silver, and of taking a silver injection and using silver gel on this skin cancer lesion on my left arm, which is the female arm and also my writing arm, as I am left-handed. Silver, to me, is the feminine metal. On waking, I thought the dream was only about today’s posts, but now I see it might have been about this between you and me as well. And you say bacteria orchestrated all of that. Intelligent bacteria I call angels. You, Sancho, are the species’ Exhibit 1 for removal of the species from this planet and putting it somewhere it has a chance to start moving forward. If you are still moving backward, what chance does anyone else have of moving forward? I wish you had not written to me today. All your talk about Tao and chi kung, tai chi, yin and yang, and balancing energies, and all you are is yang. It makes me sick, and you do not even see it. Whether I used this email back and forth in my blog is in the angels’ hands, as you well know. You circle me like moth to flame for years, because in me is something your soul wants you to have. The part of me that is open to the spirit realms, which you have told me you have never experienced. The feminine part of me, which is the receptor and the incubator and the give-birther. The part of me where writing and other assignments are brought to term like new-born infants. Perhaps publishing our dialogue today is a way for the angels to use you, who are unreachable, it seems, to offer others a different perspective, although I doubt the chance of it being absorbed. Of course I know what the third chakra is, the dan tien, the solar plexus, the spleen energy, the will center, and the kundalani is hung up there in me. And I know there is nothing I can do to unblock it, unless the angels provide it, for they hold the key and so far they have not seen fit to give it to me, and there is nothing you, I, or anyone, as far as I know, can consciously do to change that. I also know, the harder the spirit work I do is, the nastier it is, the worse I feel in my G.I. tract and liver and gall bladder. Not only do I have to live with the karma, the afflicted area is used to digest and process and eliminate the spirit maladies that are put into me like I’m some sort of sewerage treatement plant. I have known of this for a long time. Except for bacteria posing as angels and deamons, there is nothing you have mentioned that I have not known since the early 1990s. And much else I know for sometime, which you do not mention, although it is not covered in scientific papers and journals. I am still learning, because I am open to learning. 
Sancho to Don Q:  

Well, Hell… I guess you told me! LOL  My Mamma done told me a long time ago to stay out of a husband and his bacteria’s fights! I should have listened to Mamma!

Don Q to Sancho:
You are way out of your depth, which is not a problem, unless you act as if you are an expert on that which you know nothing because you have not had the experience to teach you and you are not open to learning by being told it by someone who has lived and continues to live the experience.
This old Sufi saying came to me not long before I opened and read your reply to my dressing down:
“Let God kill him who presumes to teach others but himself does not know the way to the door of His kingdom.”
Until you have spirit experiences, perhaps pray you don’t have them, you should leave off trying to explain them away with science which knows not of spirit experiences.
Any real shaman knows, in the big scheme, it’s all science, but human science has yet even to discover fire-making.
Don Q
Once upon a time, I made the incredibly stupid decision to tell the story of the lightning strikes to a psychiatric intake nurse in a rehab clinic where I had gone hoping to gather my wits about me over something that had just shaken my tree pretty awful. I did not have an addiction problem, but simply wanted a place to chill for a while. Next thing I knew, I was being treated to my own personal version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Thus began my residency in psychiatry I had not yet considered I would be part of my training in quaint medical practices I remain convinced ought to be bannished from this planet. Imagine what would happen to Jesus, were he to return today and carry on like he did 2000 years ago. Maybe that is why he didn’t show up a couple of weeks ago, for the Rapture. Many years passed before I understood the two angels who brought the dreaded message and lightning were Jesus and Archangel Michael.
Sloan Bashinsky

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