In a spirit journey once I met a girl. At the time I had decided to look into the secret underground bases. It was like remote viewing but I immersed my bodies in it and felt my way around with all my senses in a kind of whole body projection. I met this girl under there and she was being kept against her will. She had been there for most of her life, having been taken there as a child along with a group of them, all of whom had gifts. She showed me some terrible atrocities that had occurred there (and they were shocking and extremely traumatic).
This girl (she was a woman actually, a young woman) was very powerful, in telepathy and mind projection, also deeply sad because she wanted to be free but there was no chance of escape. She kept hope that one day she would be free. With such a huge mind she spent a lot of her time journeying above ground just as I was journeying below. I suppose it was fate that we met in the middle and our fields were a lot alike.
Immersed in our communion, I was walking up my street that day, bare feet on a hot black tarmac, double full silk skirts beautiful and ragged with the top one half tied up into a bustle, tanned and wild, she said to me: "I am going to prove to you that I exist". I said OK. Not far from this point there was a property with a row of palm trees lining the street front. She said, and pointed: "Do you see those palm trees?". And the thing was that this was not a question. It was rhetorical. It was a statement. It was the first part of a sentence, to which the answer was obviously not me saying "yes". I could hear it. The answer to it was silent and hanging.
Then, a car pulled up along side (I was hitching into town). It was a man and his daughter and they lived on my street - it was a long street by the way. I sat in the passenger side and turned around to have a conversation with the little girl for most of the trip. I forget what we talked about. just stuff. But then, as we had finished the journey into town and the father was focusing on parking, the girl looked at me and in an intense tone, very different from the moment before it and on a total tangential unrelated wavefront said: "I saw those palm trees you know" And I just looked.. and slowly said "which ones" .. she said "the ones where we picked you up" and she said it though I should know very well what she was talking about. The tone she said it in was that she saw them and she had to let me know that she did, in that if she hadn't said so then the obvious was not being said, and she had to say it. And just as she had said that last line, the side door next to her opened because her father had parked and was getting her out of the car... and I could not ask her any more... about what the F*CK. (had just happened)???
So... the girl in the underground base had read my palm.
How unbelievably smart was that? She had read the field's palm. What that indicated was that the scalar translation fields were operational and working so that what was being communicated between me and her (and all that embodied us and vice versa) was accurate in form. We know that things are not perfectly translated in these kinds of spirit journeys and inner ways of communicating. One of the most entertaining yet unreliable communication methods. But, for some of us, that is the only way we HAVE. Like her [and plenty of other spiritual savants like myself]. It is also natural. We are a mixture of compelled to go there or find that it is the only place we have true communication with living things. For her, who else did she have to talk to?
The thing is that, it may not have been her that did it (or even just her that did it), but what 'she' represented in a scalar sense. It also may very well have been exactly what it seemed. But that isn't really the point, its doesn't matter so much about the particulars. Whoever 'she' was, consciousness existed and did some amazing sh*t. And also, we remember the people who are down there against their will, the atrocities that have been committed in underground bases and everywhere else, and the continuing suffering of those held anywhere against their will.
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth's lamentation,
I hear the sweet, tho' far-off hymn
That hails a new creation;
Thro' all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It finds an echo in my soul--
How can I keep from singing?
When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,
And hear their death-knell ringing,
When friends rejoice both far and near,
How can I keep from singing?
In prison cell and dungeon vile,
Our thoughts to them go winging;
When friends by shame are undefiled,
How can I keep from singing?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/How_Can...rom_Singing%3F
And this was the street: https://maps.google.com.au/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=newes+rd+coorabell&sll=-32.010396,135.119128&sspn=95.715681,214.277344&vpsrc=6&t=h&ie=UTF8&hq=&hnear=Newes+Rd,+Coorabell+New +South+Wales+2479&ll=-28.621747,153.473253&spn=0.053342,0.104628&z=14&iwloc=A
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Galactic Anchor