.

There’s a reason that the extreme right backlash to a ‘Deep State’ has arisen; because ‘The Deep State’ exists and has been accruing karma for a long time. Unfortunately ex-president Trump and his followers haven’t shown any sign of knowing who, or what, the ‘Deep State’ is. The pendulum has swung way too far right now and his followers appear to be willing to swallow any conspiracy tossed their way.

One early crime of the ‘Deep State’ was the on-going obstruction, and likely destruction, of the brilliant Dr. Royal R. Rife, his microscope, and his cancer-destroying findings.

Note: Wikipedia, on this and other subjects, is a democratic medium and easily overwhelmed by any large organization with an agenda. It looks like there’s a lot of disinformation available online now as well as truth.

Dr. Rife’s Universal Microscope, developed in 1933, was once featured in Smithsonian Magazine. It used only light and is thereby superior to electron microscopes in that it enables the prolonged viewing of living cells, and viruses, without causing their destruction. He discovered that cancer is a “Pleiomorphic Fungoid Virus” which means that it changes form depending on what medium it’s found in and, in human blood, it has a crystalline structure.

Thereafter he found that some EM frequency, a fragment thereof, or combination of frequencies, could shatter cancer cells. 556 hertz shatters glass but cell walls are so very much smaller. How high is this frequency and how deeply can it penetrate?

Compare more amethyst geode images

What prompts the writing of this blog post is having to get rid of the old Royal Rife VHS video that I bought back in the 90’s before all the current information, and disinformation, about Dr. Rife was available online. I bought it when my beloved other half Cynthia was dying of breast cancer and she requested support in living vs. support in dying.

I prefer to write posts about extraordinary subjects and this is a long-overdue post about an actual cancer cure that we experienced.

With the thought of Dr. Rife’s pleiomorphic fungoid virus in mind I read another cancer-related study, from the University of Tottori in Japan, titled Hyperoxygenation as an Adjunct to Conventional Radiation Therapy. Their findings found that hyperoxygenating a patient’s blood over a period of days appeared to starve a cancer cell rendering it weaker and more susceptible to radiation treatments. The study had an efficacy rate greater than 90% in killing the cancer cells but it was only a 100 person study which is considered an anecdotal sampling. The finding was that greater study was certainly merited. I suspect that no greater study ever took place however and the University was unresponsive to enquiry.

Ages ago fungi helped form life on Earth, before there was much oxygen around. Fungi doesn’t like oxygen as much as other land-based organisms and it’s possible that it has gone retrograde in mutating into cancer. I believe that Dr. Rife wrote that he found that cancer originates from a specific mushroom and orchid.

Cynthia was already in palliative care, and due to undergo more radiation, when I ordered some food-grade hydrogen peroxide in order to hyperoxygenate her blood. It was cherry flavored and tasted a bit chalky. The dose was an ounce per day – a capful.

Cynthia had a broken neck that occurred due to bone cancer and a collapsing rented hospital bed when we were still at home. She was also emetic (throwing up) from her pain meds and hydrogen peroxide is known to induce emesis so she couldn’t take it amidst throwing up. The only time that she wasn’t throwing up, prior to a radiation treatment, was prior to her treatment for her broken neck and so it was the only time that she was able to get hyperoxygenated.

I still remember seeing the ‘before’ and ‘after’ X-rays at the radiation clinic follow-up. Her neck bones had healed. They were solid, white, and viable and her halo-thoracic brace came off. It was an extraordinarily happy and miraculous-feeling day!

Cynthia would eventually succumb, however, and pass away in my arms, as the cancer concluded ravaging her body. Take a moment to send her your love if you’re inclined. This hyperoxygenation with radiation treatment isn’t an overall cure for someone whose cancer has metathesized.

The point is that there are cancer cures possible for pre-metastatic cancer the knowledge of which has been obstructed by a genuine ‘Deep State’. This is just one of the crimes for which they haven’t yet learned that karma must inevitably come. The Jan. 6th 2021 insurrection suggests that their karma may be knocking at the door.

Perpetrating another false flag at this time, like Dr. Steven Greer’s alleged alien invasion, might not work out as planned.

Cannabis Cancer Cure

My Fathers’ garden, like every garden, was full of miracles. By Father I mean my two Fathers; corporal and Heavenly.

Gardens were more alive in my neck of the rain forest when I was a boy in late 50’s, early 60’s, prolific with bees, insects, (incl., once, an enormous, 9-inch, blue butterfly), garter snakes, and abundant frogs, (incl., once, a rare, bright green, branch-leaping frog). We always had a cat or kittens and the neighborhood dogs ran free.

As a child the garden seemed no more miraculous than anything else – it was the way things were and the way they should be.

My father spent most of his non-hockey watching time in his garden or with his stamp collection. Not great at speaking English I suspect that hockey bonded him with his co-workers.

My Father’s garden featured beautiful, aromatic, ornamental flowers of every type, including tiger, among other, lilies, roses, irises, and, a personal favorite, the purple clematis that interwove the trellis that my father put up against the side of the garage.

It stood among the strawberries that lined the garage for which we would have to compete with the birds when they were ripe. A long row of juicy raspberry bushes lined the east side of our yard. We also had a bush of gooseberries that I didn’t care for but would evoke fond emotional memories of home in Latvian expatriates.

Eating fresh peas from pods was a normal thing as was eating ripe prune plums, apples from 2 different trees and pears from 2 different trees. One of the pear trees challenged my father and me in trying to get its mostly vertical branches to grow horizontally because fruit only grows on horizontal branches. The older pear tree grew quite tall and I climbed it, and the plum tree, frequently. The taller tree was my (Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea) submarine and the, center, top, periscope was a perch that would tenuously hold my weight as the wind swayed me back and forth affording me an above-the-roof view of our domain.

We had primordial ferns and ivies and more types of ornamental plants, bushes, and trees than I care to mention. Flowers abounded. We had three rock gardens, and an enormous shady rock to sit or play on in the shade.

One summer a bug-eating plant was a big hit with the other kids.

One year my father let me keep the money from the bumper crop of $5 per basket Beefsteak tomatoes that I sold from the card table in front of our house. It was my first feeling of wealth back when I was trying to get by on a 25 cents per week allowance.

This garden proved to be too much for me to maintain as an inheritance and, at one time, I hired gardeners to seriously cut it back. I was told, without asking about it, by a psychic, that I’ve been a gardener of some renown in past lives and so have been given my twisted spine to encourage alternative pursuits. I was also told that this chronic back pain, as well as chronic GI pain, both right in the vicinity of my anatomical fulcrum, are there in order that I might learn to overcome ‘wretchedness’. No matter what I do I must bear these secondary drivers for depression for the rest of my days.

The result is my magnum opus new book:

If I were gardener these days cultivating the flora would include playing short high-frequency bird songs and filling my heart with love for them and the appreciation for how they give their all for humankind, in a Christ-like fashion, some of them just to beautify our table tops and mantles for a short period.

This absolute devotion to service is just one more thing that we can learn from them.

Who is smarter – us, or plants?

“When you choose the paradigm of service, it turns everything you do from a job into a gift.” – Oprah Winfrey

According to Edgar Cayce ‘Service’, rather than being a behavioral Fruit of the Spirit, is an oft-miraculous Gift of the Spirit. It aligns us with God.

How often do you read an actual lesson on how to miracle?

What will learning it create?

I’ve noticed that some authors make their book launches a spectacular event with much fanfare to generate interest. My new book, The Good Book, launched earlier this week on a late Tuesday afternoon with me quietly sitting in the living room, cup of coffee in-hand, staring at a computer screen surprised at how suddenly it was now selling on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and a myriad of other online stores. It’s a ‘print-to-order’ publication so no publisher actually had to print anything before it suddenly went on sale. Since then I’ve been thinking about book marketing every day.

I had this dream last night that was about my new book ‘The Good Book’ – and me, its creator.

The Dream

I was a passenger in the back seat of the car looking out the right side window and describing what I saw to a car full of excited friends. We were driving alongside a hill and I was looking up and catching glimpses of the head and neck of a sauropod (brontosaur).

We turned right up an incline that would bring us up more level to a sports field wherein we still caught glimpses of a dynamically moving sauropod and perhaps a fleeting glimpse of other smaller dinos scurrying through bushes.

Now standing outside of the car, with a University campus at our backs and around us we were awe-struck and wowed by the sight of a gigantic dinosaur-sized life-form swimming, between buildings, through the sky. The friends and students all around provided incredulous comments of awe, beauty, and astonished wonderment.

It could have been, if it wasn’t so huge, a microscopic, or early simple sub-aquatic creature with equilateraly undulating wavy pectoral fins around its sides that propelled it through the firmament. It was quite beautiful with a shining, iridine, white blue and violet gradient colorization.

Then the sky was full of brobdingnagian fish swimming everywhere between buildings. The best place to view them for a longer period was up over the open sports field where they could be viewed unobstructed.

There were many different types of fish swimming around but the most memorable, seen more than once, resembled a colourful rock fish, perhaps with whiskers, and spines in its fins. It too was quite beautiful in its stunning red and yellow colorization and it would, now-and-then, suddenly put on a water display, like a firefighting boat showboating by jetting water in every direction.

The water display was a bit too symmetrical though. It was spouting jets of water precisely evenly, with completely symmetrical pressure and measure all around the fish. No organic life form could likely do this. It appeared more likely that it was coming from fountain pipes. While the fish looked real and beautiful and powerful and awe-inspiring, it appeared possible that they were actually large air ships piloted by people.

A military missile was fired from behind a building and exploded into the side of a salmon-like fish sending it crashing dramatically to the ground. This ripped open a big wide gash up one side proximal to where its gills would be. It was a flying vessel – and so were they all.

Alone now, and getting closer, curious about who could be piloting these things, I tried to see, from a distance still, if I could see anyone inside. Suddenly, the apparent pilot, about one third the height of the fish, a university age young woman, ran out of the gash, furiously sprinting away from the scene.

When she got to the campus thoroughfare she abruptly stopped running and started walking at a normal pace trying to blend in with all the crowd. But other students had seen her too and started telling her that she wasn’t going to get away with her pretense.

I caught up to her and, in her face, told her something like, “You can’t pretend you weren’t the pilot. We know that you did it.” And then I, in this dream, moved on.

Dream Analysis

It seems reasonable that the progression from dinosaurs to simple primordial life to fish and then to flying ships represents evolution. The book may be evolutionary showing the way forward with regards to Christianity and spirituality.

A UNIVERSITY represents higher education. There are mind-boggling elements to learn including grasping aspects of ‘All That Is’. But I wonder if this setting limits the audience to ‘seekers’? What’s the value of learning and knowing The Universal Laws?

FISH are a Christian symbol. Christianity is represented in the The Good Book regarding the Fruits of the Spirit and the Gifts of the Spirit. It’s possible that the phenomenal volant aquatic display represented the, often miraculous, Gifts of the Spirit.

WATER most often represents Spirit in dreams.

The PILOT was me. Often everyone in a dream represents the dreamer.

The most important Theme of the Dream often involves the primary action that took place. Aside from the incredibly awesome and beautiful spectacle the main action was confronting the pilot (myself).

The dream appears to be trying to tell me to acknowledge to myself what I’ve done.

Writing this is, in part, to acknowledge this thoughtfully to myself as well to make the announcement, on my blog site, that my new book has been published and is now available.

The Good Book is available for purchase here, via Amazon. It may be listed as “Temporarily of of Stock” but the truth is that it’s a ‘Publish-on-Demand’ publication. The second that an order is placed, regardless of the out-of-stock notice, it goes into production.

Most instructions to fixing a Google ‘Redirect Error’ found online at this time are too convoluted for those of us who are more simple. A 301 Redirect is almost always the best type of redirect to use.

This a simple guide.

1. Search for your ‘Server’s Name’ + “How to apply a 301 Redirect”. Each server may have slightly different steps but have general steps similar to:

• Log in to server
• Select your domain name
• Select the type of redirect; Permanent 301
• Fill in the old and new page info
• Apply

Search results for Godaddy appear dated. The code found in this Godaddy help using 301 redirects appears to useful for anyone to write their own code:

https://ca.godaddy.com/help/using-301-page-redirects-234

Regarding these Godaddy instructions this is how to write, or create, a .php file: Use notepad, save, and upload it as ‘OldFileName.php’

Thanks for your contributions web publisher!

You’re amazing!

I’ve been aware from the outset, with regards to my old friends on Facebook, how weird my spiritual references must sound to those who have little interest in, or regard for, spiritual matters.

I just figure that, at the age of 63, if I’m not going to speak my truth now then when will I and, besides, it’s the flat-out best content that I could ever hope to share with anyone.

I also prefer to post in this blog about uncommon or extraordinary things that readers might not find anywhere else and I’m running out of extraordinary experiences to draw upon. This incident, however, was the most extraordinary experience of my life.

Evidently it takes some bravery to speak out spiritually as is evidenced by so many mostly publicly silent spiritual individuals.

Any spiritual public bravery is nothing, however compared to what I’m posting here now; literally the most personally humiliating-feeling thing that I could ever share publicly. I’m certain that this fear of humiliation used to be an easy emotion to exploit for those who, at one time, preferred to keep these things quiet.

Most westerners haven’t heard of Sant Rajinder Singh Ji Maharaj who is, converse to many global public guru wannabes world-wide, the real deal. He’s a living master. We’re all masters in the making but this guy is considerably more advanced than most of us.

“Our job is to stick to our meditation, day after day, until we see results.” Sant Rajinder Singh Ji Maharaj

He teaches his new initiates to meditate every day for 1.5 hours for a period of 6 months.

Almost all of the spiritual masters who I’ve come to respect recommend the increasingly mainstream practice of meditation. My lifetime meditations have been infrequent at best but, frustrated with a lack of verifiable results and disturbed by the possibility of merely sitting idle for significant periods of time, I undertook to meditate every night for 1.5 hours for 6 months just as Sant Rajinder recommends. I did so at 2 am every night as is often recommended (ideally facing east toward the coming day) for its quietude.

I wanted to see results.

I was probably about in the middle of my third month of nightly meditations, and had just finished my 1.5 hr session sometime around 4 am, when it happened. I saw the light. I’ve never seen the light during meditation but on this occasion, drawn toward the light, I parted the curtains to see everything outdoors lit up as brightly as if it was noon. Like daylight.

There was no sound and, as bizarre as it sounds, the most rational linear reasoning at the time to me was that it was powerful incandescent light projected downwards from a silenced helicopter. There being few other options this is what I actually thought was most likely going on. The Kinder Morgan tank farm property on Burnaby Mountain is nearby and the helicopters we’ve heard on occasion may be related to that property. Was this another fantasy military exercise featuring starring imaginary left-wing terrorists? Consequently I wanted nothing to do with it and stupidly, unceremoniously, closed the curtains.

I’m sure that at the time the fleeting possibility occurred to me that this could be an Extra Terrestrial Reentry Vehicle (ETRV) but that just seemed to be too far out a thought to entertain as possible.

Now I wonder.

I wish I could remember what the shadows were doing and my regrets include not grabbing my camera which sat about 8 feet away. A friend, more well-read than I regarding ET phenomena, suggested that there may have been no shadows at all because fluid light is something of which, he has read, ETs are capable. I don’t know. I don’t remember.

I stopped meditating nightly shortly thereafter. This was likely due to the fact that, already an insomniac, meditating nightly at this hour, for this period, can kick the stuffing out of my sleep cycle and too often necessitates daytime sleep.

Since then I learned about Dr. Stephen Greer’s Close Encounters of the 5th Kind about which he states that putting ourselves into phase with consciousness itself is the best way to initiate contact with Extraterrestrials.

Even though such contact was unsought, by meditating every night at this time I may have been sending out a signal at dependable regular intervals for ETs to home in on. Unfortunately, while smaller similar lighting events have reportedly presented themselves to Dr. Greer’s meditation groups I haven’t seen any other reports of ETRV lighting events as large as my neighborhood enlightenment experience. For this reason I wonder if the greater number of minds in meditation groups can impede the degree of contact relative to the most cautious common denominator?

Whatever the case, while I wish the light had been internal, at this point I can certainly recommend, that if you too want proof of the efficacy of meditation, meditate 1.5 hrs./day for 6 months and see what happens.

Amen

Public messaging regarding the Corona virus (Covid-19) by our local governments hasn’t been up to par with that of China and other countries.  Following are additional recommendations.  In addition to that which is recommended by the government, if you haven’t caught the corona bug yet:

Chinese authorities state that it always starts with a 3 or 4 day sore throat.  If you get a sore throat then attack it immediately with aggressive salt water gargling.  Gargle until you’ve hammered it into oblivion.

The virus adheres to clothes and hair. When arriving home from an outing head straight for the shower without sitting down anywhere.

Handle all clothing and sheets carefully, whether used or unused, never fluffing or shaking them. (don’t dust furniture either).  The virus can stay airborne for quite a long time and, once airborne, it can get inhaled into nostrils.  It disintegrates in about 3 hours on clothes but can take days on metals and plastic.

The virus isn’t a living organism, but rather protein covered by a protective layer of lipid (fat), which, when absorbed by the cells of the ocular, nasal or buccal mucosa, changes its genetic code mutating it into aggressor multiplier cells.

Since the virus isn’t a living organism it can’t literally be killed, but rather it decays. The disintegration time depends on the temperature, humidity and type of material where it lies and there are several notable accelerators. 

The virus is quite fragile and the only thing that protects it is a thin outer layer of fat. That’s why any soap or detergent is a good effective remedy.

Rubbing your hands for 20 seconds or more when washing, and thereby creating foam, is important because soap foam that cuts the fat.  When the fat layer dissolves the protein disperses and breaks down.

Heat melts fat; for that reason it’s advisable to use water above 25 degrees Celsius for washing hands, clothes and everything else. Hot water also helps increase the foam. Keeping your nails short will help prevent the virus from hiding in their crevices.

No bactericide works. The virus isn’t a living organism, like bacteria; and can’t be ‘killed’ by anything like bactericide or antibiotics.  Neither does vinegar work because it doesn’t break down the protective fat layer.

Alcohol, or a mixture containing over 65% alcohol dissolves any fat including the lipid layer of the virus.  Booze doesn’t work because the strongest vodka is insufficiently strong at only 40% alcohol.  Listerine works because it’s over 65%

Once the sore throat ends the cells move into the lungs and, in time, many deaths are due to a hardened clogging of the air passages and clearing those passages, to administer lung medication, can take a critical 2 or 3 days.

Home-based methodologies to help keeping air passages and lungs clear include drinking hot liquids; teas, soups, hot water.  Some say that the caffeine in coffee isn’t helpful due to its acid content.  This liquid input should be monitored carefully.  Should the lung condition turn into pneumonia, as it often does, then liquids should be given sparingly.  A thermal blanket, on the lowest setting, can also help unclog passages and steam can be respired in the shower.

To breathe in steam in a shower point the shower head towards the wall and turn up the heat. Shut the curtains inside the tub to help contain it.  A tea towel placed across your head will help localize the steam around it.  No duration is specified so use your best zen-like judgement.

These are the recommended things to do in addition to whatever is found on your government website.

Good luck.

The fact that I’ve been compiling a book recently has resulted in the dereliction of some other duties including writing a blog post here every now and then. The book is currently awaiting wifely editing and so I have time to catch up with the blog while enjoying revelry in the memory of an extraordinary jogging event that occurred in the late spring of 2019. If I had one, I’d have to make this an entry in my Personal Miracle Journal.

Another similar such entry would be the time that I was jogging and found myself running, arms outstretched, with a group of swallows, across a field near Locarno beach. Significantly adding to the emotional impact of the inherent love and joy on that occasion was the physical power of hard-pumping legs, lungs and heart. These three things also drove the empowerment of this more recent natural jogging event.

I used to zen out and primarily think about Oneness while jogging. This later transitioned more into thinking about Gramercy in accordance with personal dream guidance. This is what I was most thinking and feeling during much of this particular jog around Burnaby lake.

On the return homeward, I don’t know how many seconds, if that long, it took but I could tell, for a certainty, that I was going to get hit by rapture as if it was chasing me, fast, from behind. When it hit it was a shuddering, ecstatic rapturous moment as I continued to jog. I don’t know how long this exquisite love and joy lasted either but it was only for a few moments.

The most remarkable thing that occurred, that prevents my writing off this incident as the vague memory of a transient shudder, was that, precisely as these ecstatic moments occurred, a single simple white butterfly, arriving from behind, spiraled in front of my face as if it had just shot out of my third eye (pineal gland), and fluttered off down the sunny forest path ahead.

Either I had just enjoyed a genuine rhapsodic spiritual event or my pituitary (crown) gland had gotten dive-bombed by a fluttery little white butterfly with potent magic powers.

If I had a Native name it might be “Runs with swallows and butterflies”.

I don’t have many of these miraculous natural encounters but, now arriving every couple of years or so, they’ve dramatically increased in frequency.

Miracles Happen.

Thaumatology             Thaumaturgy