One of the things in the last three years that I have had to wrestle with was certain things that became a part of me as a result of the parents I had, my father in particular. My emotions have been all over the place on that enigmatic man. My father didn't really have conversations, he had debates. Something he grew fond of in high school debate tournaments. During his time in the Army he was a drill sergeant for a short while until he got accepted into cadet school to become a pilot. He was definitely an alpha male, he expected his opinions and views to be my views. Dad was a Goldwater Republican and even repaired Barry's Lincoln Continentals and had literature from the John Birch Society. He was a fan of sci-fi novels and Ayn Rand.
Dad's need to control his family led me in my pre-teen years actually running away while I was working for him during the summer. I grew up during the Vietnam war years. Dad sent me to his favorite barber in Old Town Scottsdale and when I came back he decided my hair wasn't short enough, he was expecting a military haircut. He grabbed me and barked at me "I AM TAKING YOU TO THE BARBER SHOP IN PERSON" and I turned to him and said "I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE A DOG!" And then I ran. I knew all the back streets of what was then partially rural Scottsdale. I used to walk to the public pool with my brother and friends during the summer months so we knew every ditch and hiding place that boys are prone to explore. I had also been trained in deer stalking by the church backpacking club for boys.
I remember my dad driving grids in his old 51 GMC truck, and I just laid flat in a two foot high alfalfa field where he could not see me. I didn't really know where to go. I just knew I would not tolerate being spoken to in that tone of voice. Something deep inside me said I didn't deserve that.
Then I did the only thing I could think of and I walked 5 miles to the pastor's house in Scottsdale. If nothing else he might have some ideas, and I knew my dad respected this man. He was a lanky tall man from Mississippi. A very kind man. My arrival was unexpected and he had a long talk with me and I told him I ran away. He asked me why, I told him about the hair cut thing. I didn't want hippie hair, but I was living at a time when hair cuts were quite long on men and I didn't want to be the only one in school with a military haircut. I wasn't a bad kid, I just wanted to be heard as a human being.
The minister asked me to join his wife in the kitchen where she made a sandwich and told me he was going to give my dad a private call from his office. I don't know what he said to my dad but dad quietly picked me up and the entire incident was never spoken of again. I was allowed a certain degree of freedom with my hair length but in all honesty my hair longer right now than it was then. I have always thought it was a pivotal moment where I became my own man and dad knew it. My dad never harassed my younger brothers the way he did me. And I am happy about that.
There was a similar moment when I was 4 or 5, dad said something really mean, and I gave him a look that sent chills in him. I was no threat at all , but I remember him looking at me and saying "Don't look at me that way!". I have no idea what look I gave him but it shook him up. Stared down by a 5 year old.
So in these energies a lot of moments like these have been surfacing. Sometimes with a bit of anger or thoughts of "why the hell was I born in the family I was born in?" Not really the most conducive environment for speaking one's mind.
Last week I was on the X platform, and I ran across a conversation between two men who had been monitored by the CIA or some similar agency under the guise of "Gifted Children Program". It might have been MK ultra related, or MILABS, I don't know. It wasn't said explicitly. I also know one person overseas that has been a "targeted individual" and a woman whom her father tried to give her to the illuminati. She ran away and saved herself and her sister. All these incidents seem to involve complicit parents.
Then I thought about myself and how protected I must have been growing up. Suddenly I had this immense gratitude for that enigma of a man who was my father. A man of pure iron will, former fighter pilot and drill sargent, knew all about the illuminati because he was in military intelligence in war time Europe.
I realized that I have so much to be thankful for because I didn't have to experience some of the things things other people did who were more awake than the people around them, because my dad was not about to let anyone get near his kids and he didn't trust intellectuals or psychologists.
I also got this deep intuitive insight, that I probably chose my father because of his characteristics before I incarnated. It wasn't punishment. It was protection. There's nobody to blame. I chose it.
