Musings Of EJP

Chapter 1

Laying in my bed, my eyes closed and head cradled in the depths of a soft sunken pillow, I become aware of the light through my eyelids and slowly open them. Steering my gaze directly upwards, I am self-aware of the arrival of my first spoken thoughts within my mind. It’s a stucco ceiling and I’m admiring the patterns that were carefully orchestrated into a refined yet simple pattern. Clumps of soft, malleable stucco must have been flung – or was it flicked? – onto the surface, then flattened with a spatula-like tool in swiping motions from left to right. I begin to hear the swiping rhythm over and over, the sound it must have created while smoothing it out. I imagine the laborer had done this many times to create a perfect fluidic pattern, likely achieving a sense of non-thought. My mind loses interest and moves onward.

My eyesight widens to encompass the expansiveness of the ceiling patterns and the soft warming glow of the room. My eyesight drops, like a stray meteorite across a vast horizon, to meet my crumpled and creased blanket. The crumples and folds remind me of a turbulent ocean frozen in time. The light creates shaded and illuminated peaks and valleys that rise skyward, giving way to the whole room. I am in this single harmonious and still moment that’s cradling my mind and body. The stillness of silence is comforting.

Like the sunlight withdrawing as the evening approaches, my eyelids begin to close once again and I withdraw into my mind’s eye and the static reality from which reality will emerge. I begin what I’ve done dozens of times this night. I am in a forest, there are pine trees and… I am not alone. I begin rebuilding my memories adding in what was not seen, heard, or felt… Felt? But what was, without question… There. I suspect technology beyond our earthly understanding.

Like chapters of a book, I rebuild my memories, always self-observing the architect’s craft of manifesting a forest and mountain range. I pause to take in the wonder of the mind’s ability to re-create the complex designs of reality… so much so, that it is at points indistinguishable from reality. Like a massive movie screen made of micro-static, I look for the surface upon a vacant illumination, much like a dissipating fog, and I begin to see a single tree, then another, and so on. It is becoming an emerging forest as my architect continues to rebuild this reproduction of my memories. I pay attention to the details emerging, wondering if my architect will miss anything, but I am cautious not to distract the work it’s engaging in. Silently, I am scouring and critiquing the details for any clues I may have missed or not considered. I can feel the various states of my mind fragmenting into singular presences, each with a different skill set and much, I imagine, like a CSI team inspecting for evidence. They are searching meticulously at the details that may have been overlooked, slowly peeling away hidden truths.

The orchestra of my mind begins again. I see a forest, blades of grass, a picnic table. Bellowing clouds meandering in the sky with a backdrop of beautiful blue. Deep green pine trees both in clusters and separated spaces. They seem tall and majestic, reaching almost stretching to touch the sky. There are many species of trees here, some with thousands of leaves gently fluttering in silent unison. I can smell the forest trees, bark, mud, moss, ferns, etc. I begin counting and deducing as detailed as possible all of the scents I can find. All of them belong to the forest. There is silence everywhere, reminding me of the fading meditation bell that was chimed moments ago. As it fades away, your ears chase after the faint remaining presence of their ring, leaving you in a free fall of ease and comfort that separates your mind from the body, as if you have forgotten the need to breathe for a moment. It all is reminiscent of a quiet Sunday walk where there seems to be no one alive on earth – just yourself, the sunshine, and the distant hum of insects – and you know that you belong to this moment within nature.

My hand is on the picnic table, I can see my knuckles and veins, and the fibrous texture of the wood it is upon. My eyes reach upwards, scanning the environment and the bearings as to where my companions are in this moment. I can see the entire campground, each vacant space, and I smile to myself knowing that we are very far away from civilization. I have the sense to be aware and begin wandering into the nearby pines. I see my friend returning from his hike, waving to me about 70 feet away, and my dog trotting over to greet him.

We are not alone….

There it is. The moment I continue to return to, and review over and over again. Pure, pungent, freshly exhaled cigarette smoke. My senses suddenly ramping up, my mind racing through the questions. Neither of my friends smoke, my dog doesn’t smoke, I don’t smoke. Who just exhaled cigarette smoke?! I ask my friend, “Do you smell that?” He says, “What?” “Cigarette Smoke!” I reply. “OMG, no, but I have been smelling it all the way coming back here from my hike!” I immediately become concerned that my dog will run into a stranger and react in an unpleasant way, so I usher him away to the van. My eyes scour the area in which I thought we were alone. No one, not a car, not a person or pet, nothing as far as the eye can see or my ears could hear. I did not think of it then but in my recall, my friend said something key. He said, “I had been smelling cigarette smoke all the way back from my hike”. Why didn’t I catch that? He brought it back with him and its source was unknown to me.

I must return…

Chapter 2

I tire from the work of chapter one and decide I must push harder to find the elusive Skinwalker.

Once, long ago in India – or would it be Pakistan now? – there was a student devoted to a teacher who did not accept them as a pupil. This teacher was the greatest arms man in the world. So this student, with great devotion, modeled a dirt and clay statue of his would-be master’s likeness. He connected his mind to it, as if it was the master in every way, and began his training from the likeness of that statue. He became a master bowsman and exceptional with all other weapons. He had become the best archer in the world, of which none could compare. One day, this master was teaching his chosen student Arjuna and came across the young student and the likeness of himself made of dirt and clay. Realizing what had happened and the disregard for permission, he asked if the pupil was devoted to him. The student bowed at his feet in awe and reverence and said “yes, I am devoted to you”. The master said, “I have already promised Arjuna to be the greatest archer, therefore you cannot be. If you are devoted to me, cut off your thumb right this moment”. And so, without pause, the student did so and no longer was able to shoot the bow. I have said this to you because I want you to learn now from me. I model in my mind, much as the pupil made a model of dirt and clay and psychically connected.

I have moved to the floor next to my bed and sit in a meditation position. Entering my mind, I begin again. My mind’s eye suddenly develops the canvas of reality. The hard, desert surface of Utah with its orange hues, comes first to my vision, and I say to it, I seek the Skinwalker. This, of course, is not in words but a sense of knowing, wanting, or desire. It has more detail than spoken words in your mind. In my chest center, again, I emote, I seek the Skinwalker. I begin to feel what can be described as an imbuement of a vast Utah area, much of it stone, soil, and shrubbery. Vacant of civilization. Day rapidly becomes night. The smell of dried grass waifs in the air mingling with dry soil dust.

Why can I not find you? Do you exist and if so… Why?

I begin modeling the best concept of a Skinwalker through all possible concepts I have developed, all senses I have drawn data from psychically. The answers slowly, vaguely assembling themselves from the dust, gritty soil, and sparse weeds. A foot, a leg, torso, waist, chest, arms, and face. Tattered clothing with animal hides. An American Indian deranged with ego, and power potentially, fits shapes into a structure resembling a fearsome, aggressive gesture. But my senses say this is an illusion, you have a model … if it exists.. if it exists. I give it life, a soul, and then I hold it captive, frozen in time, gazing deeply into its eyes for study. Feeling, scanning, and assimilating it. Its eyes reflecting the environment around it. I see shrubs, rocks, and the nighttime horizon. The gloss of its eyes, its pupil and iris, thinking it is much like a human. Humans, I hear my consciousness repeat. My chest center repeats it again.. Human... it is not. It is an illusion. My mind speaks up, as if a great truth has become apparent. This is lore and phantom, used to put fear in the heart of men… to keep them away. An intelligent species would see this as part of the ecosystem, a natural phenomenon of the culture. It will keep them away from what they must not see. It is a deterrent. I choose to see its source and I am flashed once more with the pattern. A kaleidoscope pattern of browns, tans, creams, blacks, and suddenly dissipates. It is psychically evasive. I tire of chapter two and move onto…

Chapter 3

Who is, what is, the ancient Indian. Much like most of the information, I only have stories to build concept modeling from. But once again, I begin to model. Age, height, time period, and clothing. Hundreds of variations race through my mind. Until I feel it. The moment I have a match, my navigator tells me… That’s it! But nothing, all I continue to feel is the desert and an empty road. The road, my navigator repeats, the road. I begin reviewing the road that always appears in my mind. It is a simple, plain road. There are no structures or homes. Realizing I never find the Indian, but behold… I always find the same road, the same place and time. It is paved but a road that no longer has heavy traffic. What is it about the road? The road is the entry and exit point – a portal location? It is a road that’s nearly impossible to find a specific point on it. My mind’s eye is rampantly searching for markers, landmarks, anything. Then there it is. Suddenly, a structure where there should be no structure? A cement block building maybe 20×30, faded worn white. I believe it is or was a small convenience store or gas station no longer in service. But the important part: the position I was in when asking the questions, entering and exiting. I was on the road… ahh, there is often a crossroad where stores are. I may not see it from my angle but I sense it is a crossroad. I am approaching from the rear of the store because I cannot see any entrance doors. I am about 100 feet from the store and it’s on my right side….

Find the store… and you will find… the portal.

I recall back to Playa del Carmen. While with students, I pointed out two women oddly dressed for the climate and time period. They were short and slightly hunched, bundled in warm clothing. They had hats similar to those of the early 1920’s, I think when dead birds were fashionable. They were carrying a number of bags as if they had been shopping, and they walked closely together. We were at an intersection. A bar that was open to the road, with no walls, just tables outdoors, inches from the intersection where only people were allowed to walk. Why were they odd? Because we were in Playa del Carmen and it was at least 90 degrees outside and everyone was wearing bathing suits, bikinis, or very light clothing for the heat. I told my students to focus all of their attention on them and not stray their eyes away. The two elderly ladies walked up onto the platform directly across from us. Maybe 60 feet away, there was a stone wall, perhaps 12 feet long by 4 feet high. I believe it is used for a BBQ backdrop on occasion, but there was no BBQ at this time. The rest of the area was vacant, a spacious, unoccupied cement slab similar to the one we were on. As they walked behind the slab, they crouched down and never returned back to sight. One of my students leaped up and ran across the street in disbelief to check where they had gone. He said there was no door or stairs… nothing but a cement slab.

Chapter 4

I see a valley in the evening. I am thinking of the places I stayed, in the evenings, watching as the twilight begins and the romantic views of homes and towns softly illuminate into the vanilla sky, frosted with twinkles of the arriving evening stars. I always loved the illumination of a city nestled away in the arms of a canyon or mountain. But tonight, like many other nights, we search the night sky for more than stars. We search for crafts, aliens, or even for ourselves.

Suddenly my mind is jerked from this peaceful reflection and I am mindful to be aware of moments like this. They are brought upon in moments similar to a meditation. The mind is at ease and valuable thoughts may randomly surface. My mind often thinks on multiple subjects at the same time (probably why I can be hard to follow at times lol). I fall back… back into another layered memory that feels a connection.

I recall the day I smelled the cigarette smoke in the forest campground. It was the same day that strange mechanical noise was heard in the distance. My mind audibly creates the rapid thump, thump, thump sound, back and forth slowly approaching above the treetops. I didn’t think much of it at first. I assumed someone was approaching in a vehicle – or was it a helicopter? At first, it seemed to come from a distant road but then I decided it must be a helicopter because it was moving and weaving through the canyon. What an odd sound it was making but nothing terribly alarming. It must be an oddly sounding chopper. Thump! Thump! Thump! It grew louder and louder but still sounding as if it was weaving a staggered zigzag motion over the trees. I was captivated as to what it could be – then it suddenly was above me! Thumping very loudly, perhaps 100 feet above me. The area was open with some tall pine trees here and there. I could see upwards a good distance… but there was nothing? It should be right above me, clear as day. I could not see any craft that should be there but I also didn’t feel any wind or turbulence or even any smells. But my senses screamed that it was there and I believed at the moment it was not earthly. And fuck! I didn’t have my iPhone, it was in the van. DAMN IT! I ran back to my van and returned but the phenomenon was already distant and quickly fading. The lesson, I should always be prepared as a phenomenon never waits on anyone. I have reviewed this day over and over searching for clues. It was invisible which means it had stealth technology. It did not move air or create any turbulence. Was this a new form of stealth? After careful thought and consideration of the environment, etc. I believe the thumping sound was a flaw. It should not have made a sound. Either the craft was a drone or its occupants were not aware it was making any sounds, as they were in the interior. Much like the smoking man, he or it made no sound. I believe this is a technology much like headphones with sound-dampening features. They are able to reduce the natural acoustics around them as well as the optical lights, etc. Smelling a cigarette from someone or something in stealth is simply a bored person or alien seeking attention…

Which brings us back to the valley and evening sky.

Any crafts that are flying will likely be using stealth technology or moving so fast it’s barely perceptible to the human eye. Unless there is a malfunction in their technology.

Unless there is a malfunction my consciousness echoes…

Meditation affects the quantum aka the micro. Technology is made smaller and smaller and most likely any advanced technology will be built upon quantum/micro technology and chips. Anything within the quantum scale operates outside of the law of physics. In some ways, it is supernatural.

It is well established within HBI that we affect technology often, so much that live broadcasts were shut down on a nearly ongoing basis. The phenomenon was in itself rather impressive and it took years to truly stabilize, once I understood we were rattling the quantum field and time… This always occurred like clockwork during pre-broadcasts and meditations that had not yet occurred but would within about 1 hour to 30 minutes before. But I digress and must refocus.

There was something more, nagging me from my chest intelligence, regarding the thump, thump, thump machine… My chest intelligence aka navigator sensory was telling me it has structure and that structure was square, much like a box! My mind begins rapidly indexing, searching for something that it recalls matching but may have been missed. Collectively, my senses tell me there is a connection. Oddly enough, there it was… The old storefront on the road! It’s dimensions were very similar. Can there be a connection? Are they one and the same? Is it able to imitate structure to the neural network of the brain? It would explain why I could not find it and then it appeared… It was so very odd and unlikely that, in its own weirdness, could make brilliant sense?

I return my thoughts to standing on the peak of a hill. I can see the distant town illuminating. I begin stretching my chest center outward wider and wider, much like a vast radio signal without limits, statically crawling and intertwining with all things and becoming as one. I now see the entire valley and its inhabitants as one living organism, one collective consciousness… and I become it. Much like my own body and reflecting on its needs, pains, and thoughts, the valley and I are one and I begin to scan its needs, pains, and thoughts…

What I am seeking is consciousness, or shall I say the Intelligence which is doing exactly what I am doing but it has been here so long, it feels as if it is part of the valley and people. And there it is… I begin isolating its presence, as would be done when trying to find the source of an ache or pain in the body. Is this an alien AI? Is this the same intelligence that affected Byron’s laptop, making odd symbols and dates thousands of years in the future appear on his computer?

I feel its presence everywhere, monitoring everything. This same intelligence is capable of crossing the continent directly into our homes and to us. We have experienced this first hand. All of this simply because we began thinking about it, just a mere thought or some concentration on it. This seems impressive at first but I am thinking in terms of human technology and capability. My consciousness has the same capability to cross space, even time, and search for someone or something. Why can’t technology enhance this sense or reproduce a version of it? I suppose what is interesting is how well it simulates HBI technology. For instance, webbing. We say “cut the webs” because if you think of someone or someone thinks of you, they can or will feel it and act upon it.

If we think about Skinwalker, it locates us no matter how far away it is. Let me clarify, I do not believe in the Skinwalker as a creature or defunct shaman. I believe this is a ruse or distraction. If I do speak of the Skinwalker then it is in reference as an Alien, AI, or some form of technology. Regarding it being able to track thought – cannot radio signals travel across the ocean? Then why can’t advanced technology be able to track a person’s thoughts?… Hypothetically speaking. A single thought could be described as a pattern or a number that makes up its structure. Imagine a computer screen that is hooked up to someone’s brain. The technician says think of an apple. The screen shows a structure. It may not look like an apple but when the technician says “banana”, the shape changes. When asked to think of an apple again, the original shape returns. If you were to look at that structure in detail, it would be made of many microspecs. You could say each is a single number and collectively they equate to become the pattern of that thought. That thought has an electrical resonance and I believe it could be isolated and located, like a tracking signal. What is more important to point out, is that this technology would obviously have to be able to encompass the earth. Similar to being able to place a call specifically to someone on the other side of the earth. The difference is the thought represents the cell phone number and the cellphone itself is your organic brain. AKA Telepathy.

This is where I had become intrigued. If it can find me, then I can backtrack it… follow the webbing to its source. The question was, how will it react? And is this what the shaman did hundreds or thousands of years ago? My last attempt at mental connection was a strong response, in the form of a living, moving image that is best described as a kaleidoscopic pattern. I see tan, brown, beige, black, and cream colors in a kaleidoscope pattern slowly changing shape. It reminds me of an octopus changing its colors, perhaps as a form of communication or warning. Although, unlike a squid or octopus, I did not experience any flashing warning signals or flushes. If I were more accustomed to this form of communication, I would say it was friendly, not hostile. The correlation between octopuses in nature parallels in some ways the Skinwalker phenomenon, as they are both masters of disguise. Is there a connection to a subspecies of intelligence that has evolved more rapidly than mankind? Could we have missed this all along and they have made a technological leap? Or if there is a connection, could they simply be a species from the same world, considering that the octopus is often thought of as not from this earth? After all, humans did come from the oceans themselves. But alas, I can only speculate…

Chapter 5

What are the orbs? What is their purpose? On my first group visit to Skinwalker, we had reserved an RV area for the group and our vehicles. It was likely around 3 am when I found myself laying on my mattress sideways and staring out to the night sky through my rear window. I was unamused, aka bored, but took notice of the horizon, the stars, and where I figured the ranch property was located. Suddenly, I saw the movement of a falling star. It simply dropped straight down to where I believe the ranch was. Then another did exactly the same thing. And once more, the third one. I would have considered them a star in the night void of any movement until they simply dropped. Did I really just see that? Are these crafts, synchronized meteorites or were they orbs? My architect begins to rebuild the moment again and again but nothing of note comes forward. I begin to think about the orbs and any details I am aware of. Remodeling all possibilities with my architect. From my static consciousness, I begin to see an evening field, long – or is it short? – grass, yellowed from the summer heat. Some forest trees and a road or field? The illumination begins to appear and slowly moves towards my direction. Color… What color is it? I look into it, assuming I may see a structure within it. But nothing. It is translucent. Is it intelligent? Yes, it is. Or at least, controlled by intelligence? I freeze it and begin walking around it, and notice I do not see any light casting on the ground? Its illumination is artificial or at least not light as we know it. It is controlled down to the light photons… I begin to assimilate and scan it. My mind stretching the psychic netting I have overlaid upon the valley and the intelligent presence. I harvest potential details and add them to my index. I now realize they are not independent; they once again are part of a collective. Likely controlled by one source…

My mind wanders with random thoughts. What do they think about during their day? Do they have emotions as we do? If they have been here for millennia, they know our species very well and yet we know so little about them. What are they afraid of? Or are they even afraid? They are an advanced species compared to us. What would make them interested in communicating with us? Telepathy seems to be an efficient and limitless form of communication. They do not speak in verbal thoughts but rather in patterns. I wonder if they would react if I rebroadcast their pattern or change them to convey emotions as thoughts…

I need to push telepathically and I need to use the collective power of the Navigators if I expect an answer….

What is the difference between now and my last visit?…

The difference is, I have returned….

From the White Room….

EJP