PAINTINGS OF THE

Rhombi Chronicle:A Series of Lucid Dreams

and Journeys

M. E. Gill

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Table ofcontents

When I was Born 1The Spaceship 2Spaceship Recalled 4Faces Appear 5Shift was in the air 6To Dance 10Parasystole Dream 12The Light 14The Dark 16Journeys End 20Soul Family/Group Notes 22Rhombi Meets Fish Spirit 24The Journeys Prophecy 26Stillness of the Seer 28Testing the Spirits 31Sacred Geometry 33Map of Parasystole 34Sacred Tears 37Sister Warriors 40Race With Animus 44Ancient Red Tree 48Leaped 49Raising the Pearl 50Torso Interiors 52Gate 55Eye of Throat 56Tall Dream at Sunrise 57Dreamer’s Journey 58Mother’s Song to her Daughters and Sons 62Appendix 64Inspirations 65Artist’s Statement 66Art Reference 67

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When I was born

hen I was born, my mother told the nurses “please don’t take my baby from me just yet. I want to know this child.” She continued in prayer, “With all my heart, with all my mind, with all my senses, I want to know who this is. I swear to you, Jesus, with the patience of a saint I will know this child this time.” She and

my dad named me after their mothers.

On the second morning, the nurses took me to another baby’s mother at feeding time, and brought her baby to my mother. My mother called the nurses back in and told them, “This is not my baby.”They insisted that she was wrong.She was absolutely horrified at the thought of this.. She insisted that she would know. The nurses had to match footprints to determine the answer. Before my second break-fast in my new life, I was lost, found, and returned to my mother.

My father was a good man. He worked very hard to provide for us. After one of his army buddies had visited, I told my father that I saw the fear in this man, which made him cuss to seem stronger. Dad grabbed me and brought his face down to mine. He told me not to dare using this skill, and especially never to tell what you see about adults. I was three years old.

This terrified me. I often wondered what it did to him knowing that I could do it.

During the late summer of 1961, my sister Carol and I saw a UFO out the window.I had woken up that night and looked out the window of my bedroom.There was a light beaming down into the forest behind rows of corn in our garden.Carol started coming down the hallway from her room. I came out and took her hand. I showed her the beam of light out the window.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she ran downstairs into the bathroom. I watched it come over the woods behind our house. It came over the 1/2 acre garden to the near edge; hovering there, and suddenly, beam an intense white light down to the ground near the shed. Then I went outside.

There was a quiet humming sound. The clouds were greenish and whispy above. No crickets or birds made any sounds. Carol came outside. That’s the last thing I remem-bered clearly until August of 2001, six months after our mother had died from a brain tumor. We were at our sister’s cabin to celebrate our Dad’s birthday.

The Spaceship

Quite late at night, Carol and I walked away from the partying crowd, down the dark country road and sat right in the middle of it, under a startlingly bright canopy of huddled stars. She described that the craft had moved Southwest after it had hovered over the near edge of our garden with the bright light shining down. After moving away, it hovered very low to the ground in the field behind Julia K’s house, four houses down the street. Carol said the spaceship’s light then shown down over our garage, very close to the house where she stood. I do not remember seeing that, o r anything else after I went outside. She does not remember where I went.

I vaguely recall our mom poking her head outside after seeing us huddled under the apple tree near her bedroom. I don’t remember going back into our house, or back in bed or anything that night. Carol doesn’t remember that part either, except that our mom had both of us under her arms when she walked towards the house.

But we both remember the next day when the news came on and they said it was a weather balloon. Carol and I knew it wasn’t. Our mom knew we didn’t believe it. In the kitchen she just pursed her lips and shook her head “no” when the news anchor lied.

The first time I drew Rhombi was in 1972. I had no idea of her name, or why she came into my mind’s eye, so I finally drew her. Just once. To me, this was like Owen Meany1 knowing something from the future, but not knowing how to explain how he knows.

When I moved to Kansas City, it was awhile before I met anyone to talk to about spiritual matters and the 1988 shamanic journey/ dream events that occurred in my life. These Rhombi journeys were far beyond the norm within this bible belt.

In 1989, we moved to Brighton England for my graduate studies at Brighton Polytech-nic. I had received a Rotary Foundation Graduate Scholarship for full tuition, room and board, etc. It was wonderful! I was proceeding as per the written plan of my stud-ies, when I decided to research the ley lines instead, in order to incorporate the Rhom-bi story into my graduate work. Shortly after this, there was a sudden meeting of a few Rotary members and elder professors from the Polytechnic, myself and my sponsor. This was held in the basement of the main University building. The rules about this 1From the book, “A Prayer for Owen Meany”, by John Irving

were laid out clearly. Under no uncertain terms was I to write about or create artwork beyond anything that had already been published about the ley lines in England. Con-sequently, I made this performance and visual art in Brighton from a personal angle and one of questioning consciousness, rather than physical “place.”

Back in the states, in 1990, I had shown only a few pieces from these journeys, which I had created in Brighton, England, during graduate studies at Brighton Polytechnic. This was at Union Hill Gallery, owned by Martha McDermott. Those pieces were direct from the first and second journeys of 1988. Shortly after, I began working full-time managing graphic design production. One of my favorite creative people worked there and we became friends. He lived in my neighborhood and encouraged me in fine art.

Another significant person in my own neighborhood was a gallery owner. Martha Mac Dermott introduced me to Jerry S. Vegder, owner of Gallery V. Jerry loved my work. He was a gem. I had some large works and a few studies for paintings there until 1994. I’d been working full-time and raising two boys. These were the years of my hus-band working 2-10 PM and seeing very little of the boys. Rough years.

I was fortunate after my second son was about 1-1/2, to leave work full time. I would have three years to paint images I was remembering from these shamanic journeys and dreams. Thus, fortunately, there is a record.

________________________

So... what were these memories and why has it taken so long

to understand them?________________________

I could not have done these paintings if I had not also discovered that these memories are locked into the tissue along energy meridian lines in our bodies.

Black Bird (and Julia1)

I had watched her all summerFrom the fieldWhere I playedHer starkness frightening meTo the boneSo exacting, her gardens,She made me fear adulthood

Her black hair, so fine in tight bunBared brow... strengthened her jawlineWhich I knew bestFrom behind,Where I stood

I cushioned a frail black birdWith field grass in a boxSo...alike...they seemedAnd with heart echoing through ribsRan up the broad stairsKnocked three timesThen flight backWhere I hid

Door creaked, then She stoodLooking down...And black bird should have flown in fear, tooBut it lay

She must have stroked the poor thing ten timesBefore looking up, to my surpriseDirectly into my eyes

And there, in her tearful gazeMet I, her heart...Amazed. — Margaret E. Gill

1 Julia K was our neighborhood scary lady when I was age four. That autumn I learned who she was.

name of artist

Spaceship recalled

Concurrently, quantum physicists had discovered that although adjacent cells perform identical functions, they are each individually capable of storing separate memories. It was in 1999 that I read an article of these “cellular memory” findings. By this time, of course, other quantum scientists were working on effects of thought on particles within a vacuum, based on the theory that “thought creates.”

Many of my deepest memories of former lives and my current life were uncovered after having deep tissue massage at Lisa H’s chiropractic office, or other types of massage: Reiki, Shiatsu. Some of Rhombi’s tribal information was revealed in imagery from deep tissue massage of back and rib injuries after a car accident in 1990.

One of these memories, accessed in 1994, is of me going into that spaceship that came to our house in Appleton, Wisconsin in 1961:

I went in with someone holding my hand. The room was very large, with one side having a taller wall made up of many monitor screens, possibly 40 in all. There were several people standing together on the left side. One of them was much shorter than the others. After meeting them, this shorter man asked me most of the questions about myself, joking around a little bit, but I could tell this was a group of scientists. This man eventually asked me to make the image move on one screen. I did.He asked me to try a few at a time, and I did this, too.He asked me to do other things. Eventually all the screens were activated by my mind, at 100% accuracy and they wrote notes about it.They were all very kind.They all marveled at my creativity with these images.They led me out again. I remember leaving the room and walking down a hall with some shorter beings, very sweet. I don’t remember going outside the ship, or going down to the ground, or back to my yard or into my house. I did not even connect it to the event in 1961, because I thought I was at least 10 inside the spaceship. This was later disclosed by the short man — a US Army Command Sergeant Major — that I was 6.

After I remembered this event, I also remembered details of living in Rhombi’s world.

Faces appear

Although I did not intend to conjure the facial features of those I had loved in my past lives, it became clear after one year of painting or drawing almost every day, that these faces were part of my soul’s memories. They began to be seen by my consciousness only after somebody else pointed out the facial features.

In 1995, I had the good fortune of being the featured artist in a group show, allowing me my own exhibit space adjacent to the group exhibition at the Muse Gallery. This was located within the popular contemporary neighborhood of Westport in Kansas City, Missouri. My show was called, “Body Wisdom: A Journey” and was up from Nov 3, 1995 to January 27,1996. Reception of this show was surprisingly good, given the strong presence of the alternative spiritual view of reincarnation written into the narra-tive of the Rhombi visits, presented alongside the paintings.

In 1997 I met Linn, who owned the Crescent Springs Healing Center. She invited me to show my works in her central room. “The Bodyspeak Exhibit: Healing Journeys” opened February 6, 1998 and ran through March 7th. This exhibit included more of the subconscious or “soul-paintings” of familiar faces than any thus far.

During the opening of this show, a woman was standing in front of Transformation, with tears streaking down her face. This piece contains the memories of the tribe depicted in Rhombi’s Visit II. This story is locked into the cross-hatch created for this piece, at least, that was my intent. I had seen others cry before this piece, while it hung in my home. Deborah Dickson Campbell, an art critic for the Pitch Weekly newspaper, reviewed this show in the February 26-March 4, 1998 issue. She has a keen eye, and saw many of these faces, and she wrote, “Few artists today recognize the power of art to educate and heal, but UMKC and KCAI alumna Margaret Gill-Benlon does just this.”

Unlike those former surprises of finding a face within a color field of brushstrokes, one painting manifests a different process. My intent was to paint myself as a girl-child amidst the dream of Rhombi’s world. This is in Raising the Pearl. I had sketched a girl-child with vine charcoal numerous times within that space, always dissatisfied with my drawing and rubbing it out with a cloth. My friend, Brenda, came over that evening. She saw the girl-child instantly upon entering my studio.

I do recall that the very first time my soul had painted two faces into a color field of brush strokes —one angelic, one with a demonic grin— it frightened me so much that I nearly passed out during my painting critique with Biganess Livingstone when she pointed these out. That was in 1979.

Shift was in the air

It was beautifully shaded as well as having just enough contour and accent lines to de-scribe her, and her arms were crossed in front of her. All I needed was to add color. This was my soul drawing through a body that knew this face, while the ego was scrub-bing away the images, one after another, that the ego had drawn. The intent was also known by the soul and the body. It was only my ego making the mistakes.

Torso Interiors contains another level of awareness of these faces. Most of these were realized by the time I had this exhibition at Linn’s shop in 1998. It wasn’t until 2012 that I realized the identity of the very faint, centrally located boy face, but it was sev-eral years after the show before I first saw his face in my painting. Since then, I always thought it was a younger brother during the lifetime of the first Rhombi visit. He was the one making a musical instrument before we travelled up the mountain. Then in 2012, the main writer of the forum for which I used to write articles had told me that this face was my soul brother, currently living in Germany. He shared a link showing this person in a very popular music competition TV show. I got big rushes of energy up the back of my legs, gradually working up my spine to the shoulders. This told me “same stomping grounds.” I do not know if that man was correct, but I still believe the boy is my soul brother, not just in one lifetime.

In 1999, I met a young man, Kerry Godwin, at an event in my town. He had been look-ing for me. Someone had told him about my paintings at the last exhibition. He was in-terested in this “Transmutational Shift” to the 5th dimension, in which humans are not supposed to have to go through death to ascend up to the next level of existence. It has apparently never happened before, but according to the Mayans, this had been prophe-sied to occur at the alignment of the Galactic core with our solar core and many of our planets. We were already seeing a staggering increase in the appearance of crop circles with geometric and serpentine shapes that were interpreted similarly, and created by the alien races that are the ancestors of humans. We are already within this alignment period as of 12-21-2012, the beginning of this “Awakening”.

Kerry wrote in the Shawnee Journal Herald, on August 5th, 1999:

The earth has shifted, and a window has opened, allowing artist Margaret Gill to enunciate a vision.

Her works of art are more than lyrical enigmas. These demanding windows she strives to interpret impart wisdom, uncanny narratives of a time

By January, 2003, I was not doing many paintings or drawings. But I started writing the stories about Rhombi’s tribes that I’d uncovered through massage and subsequent dreams. Then something happened, affecting me deeply.I remote-viewed the Columbia shuttle disaster 4 days prior to the explosion of Febru-ary1st. Here is how this unfolded:I was in the orthodontist’s office, reading a TIME magazine while waiting for my son. In my remote view, the Columbia shuttle story was about the cause of the explosion. The crew had “found” a mind-boggling energy source and tried to enter the atmo-sphere with this little thing, which caused the explosion.

Four days later, after the actual explosion, I was stunned and confused. I drove back to the office to find the magazine. No pages were missing, and of course the story wasn’t in there, but the cover was the same. I did a little research back then, but never found that exact story in print.

I remote-viewed the Haiti earthquake on MSNBC 4 days prior to it happening. I was fully awake, just busy with a graduate paper, so I’d taken a break midday for 10 minutes and turned on the TV. Chris Matthews was on, describing the horrors of the crumbled city. I felt very sad for those people, and said a little prayer to their souls, then went back to writing my paper. I vowed to stick to my work and not watch or read any news until I was finished.

My husband returned home from a video shoot out of town 5 days later. He settled down in front of the fireplace with the newspaper while I was getting a snack. He mentioned something about the Haiti quake. I replied that I was surprised NBC hadn’t called him to cover that story. He replied, “Well, they might...after all, it just happened yesterday” he said. I actually accused him of being out-of-the-loop if he thought that it happened yester-day. “Are you crazy? That happened last week!” I replied. He had to get up and prove to me that it had happened only the day before. I watched MSNBC, but it didn’t come out quite the same way as in my viewing. Close enough though.

In the same 4-day manner, I’ve remote-viewed the news of deaths of Kurt VonneguJr.,

that has passed, and a time that is coming... the series of work since the dream are disquieting but beautiful depictions of the human spirit. The dual natures of the works embody layers of images that quickly convince the viewer of the perils of ignoring what we can’t see with our eyes.

Charles Schulz and many others. I’m an artist, so these guys were important to me. There is just no way to check every thought or experience. I felt so bad about Haiti that I called a woman who is known for seeing future events. I asked her which authorities you should call when you see something like this, but it’s not yet happened. She told me it was no use. They would just tell me they had no seismic activity to indicate there is any need to begin necessary evacuation efforts. Either that or outright exclamations of wasting their time with another nutcase.

I get her point. So what exactly is the use of seeing something before it happens if nobody believes you?

I wrote 13 chapters on the Rhombi chronicles. Most of this was her tribe, and a few meetings with other tribes. I did a few more paintings, but these are illustrations.As more and more words were set to paper, less and less sure I was of the direction this was going. I had allowed my ego to take over this project. It’s natural to want to fit into the society in which one lives, but this cost me the heart of Rhombi’s story.

I had been trying to find out if this story happened on earth in Africa, but much did not fit. Then I started researching mythic lands: Mu, Lemuria, Atlantis. There was some of Rhombi’s story in each of these, but the judgement at the end of the day came about finally in 2012. I needed to journey again. I needed to get better acquainted with my soul, talk to her, find out more of my own history and resolve some things before we journeyed.

In this journey, I went to a pristine earth. Supposedly this land we are living upon is a mirror-earth, full of dark manipulations affecting our minds, psyches and wrought within timeloops keeping us here in a never-ending recycling of lives under the rules of karma payback over lifetimes— not within the same lifetime. The man who wrote this theory thinks this original earth is 180° from the earth we are on, opposite side of our orbit. I do not agree that is real. But shamanic journeying is. Astral travel is. The purity of the original earth without manipulations to our perceptions exists right here. It is a matter of clearing the veil of deception.

Out of this came the day I was introduced to my soul mate. My journey took me to a

seaside beach at a property with a stone wall. The same man who had stood with the taller species upon the UFO ship sat quietly upon this wall, quite a bit older, chatting with me. Suddenly he looked over his shoulder and said, “Ahhh, look who’s here... hello my friend!” They shook hands and hugged. We were introduced, and then hung out with our mutual friend.

I have been in communication with him since then. Together we journeyed back to Rhombi’s homeland. It is not on earth. We needed to flatten our bodies to the floor to make these journeys. It is like the wormholes shown in “Contact” the movie, except that the pressure is so great that you cannot sit up. You cannot even hold your head up. You best not eat anything for 6 hours prior to making these journeys to this land. It condenses everything in your intestines. We were there sometimes for 5-6 hours, and at least once for 12 hours, and kept water handy.

When we arrived, there were always many beings to greet us. My soul would talk through my body. I always got the gist of what was said. We would travel to a different location corresponding to an area depicted in one or more of my paintings. In this way I have cross-references regarding each of the seven tribes. An unexpected outcome: We found out that there would not be permissions to tell the entire story on earth. It is far too dangerous. Even though I know this artwork and writing is not for everyman, I must communicate this to those beings who will hear.

Because of the raw details we received on these journeys, I also shelved the 13-chapter Rhombi Chronicles story. My ego had mashed it to fit Lemuria. African mountains, hot springs areas and other major landmarks were named in it, making it unpalatably false to me in the face of these new journeys. I was set straight on where these pyramids are, and how they built them without written language, where the hot springs are, where the red soil is, etc.

Some very fine details that I had initially found during those Rhombi journeys long ago are still the gems that made later journeys worth the risk in the first place. For that reason, I must thank my teacher, Shadow Hawk of Kansas City, for providing me with the training in shamanic journeying in the early 90’s, inclusive of the warnings for each level.

To Dance

Just because it’s a higher dimension we are traveling, does not mean that everyone is nicer. Quite the contrary. There are some real dangers out there. But I will include some of those gem stories of the seven tribes in this writing. Shadow Hawk’s tape is called, “Drumming For Journeying”. Side 1 is Shamanic Journeying: Instructions + 16” [minutes] drum-ming. Side 2 is Shamanic Journeying [infinity symbol] 25”. I am currently playing this tape as I type here, on October 2, 2013. My husband’s college roommate introduced me to David Shadow Hawk, and we took this class in 1991. After this class he would occasionally have a group drumming journey out at his house in the prairies of Kansas.

Prior to 4-8-’88 there is one piece that did not involve journeying, but had faces: To Dance, from 1982. I did not see faces until I photographed the art, and I promptly scribbled over these faces with graphite, still afraid of this phenomenon. In the lower right piece, between the two bodies are several faces still evident. One is a baby boy.

To D

ance

(trip

tych)

mixe

d med

ia

29.5’

x 21

” 15

.5” x

5.5”

21.5”

x34”

Jan

uary,

1982

Yoga was the catalyst for “remembrances” through union of body, mind, and spirit, evolving into a form of dance before my time. I had no idea how I knew these moves. The first piece, upper right, was of me intuiting that this form of dance would spur clearer memories. Then in January of ‘82 in Chicago, my friends and I got snowed in. Instead of helping Maryanne with an exhibit downtown, we all trekked the two blizzardy blocks to her studio. Though not my in-tention to tread upon the “secret dance anguish” that stifled my very soul, that is what came out in the two larger pieces.

In June of ‘82 I completed a plaster sculpture on this same theme, Seated Woman. This fear of what I would find out through releasing these memories locked in my body was natural ego protection, to be sure. But the soul has a way of presenting opportunities to reconsider what must come out.

Seated Woman Plaster 10” x 14” x 7” January, 1982

Parasystole DreamFour nights after my first son’s birth, I had two lucid dreams or journeys. The first was about a glorious life filled with love, honor, compassion and cooperation. The second was about massive, violent death. These journeys brought a new perspective. They brought me to an understanding of the nature of existence, which, I knew then, must be guarded and shared carefully.

Prominent in these dreams was a beautiful petite woman with dark skin, strong in stature, and wise for her years. She was a Seer for seven tribes. I had subsequent dreams about her tribe and the six other tribes. At times I viewed her in the dreams as apart from me, but for brief moments I was able to sense her emotions and physical sensations as though they were my own. Her name was Rhombi.

When I sought understanding of these journeys/ dreams late in the following year, 1989, I went to a spiritual woman, Diane, whose reputation was stellar for her vision accuracy of current life issues that were steeped in past relationship residues. I had no idea whether Diane could help me find out who this dreamt woman represented, whether she existed at all, even though I fully believed she did, and where her planet orbited. I had thought for quite a few months, while in England, that Rhombi’s world existed in another dimension only.

Diane surprised me by first saying that I was this woman... that I had a multi-colored aura, having a peacock feather patina... and that these journeys were to a time and place long forgotten. I am certain Rhombi is somebody else.

Most importantly though was this message to me from Rhombi:

This is not a gift to you... you have earned it.

I will go ahead and tell you of the first two journeys, followed by the art that came after them. Then I will fill in the details scantily of each tribe as I and my soul family are allowed. This way all are represented in the readers’ minds as they gaze into these paintings. I did not use my drumming tape for these journeys, although I did hear a drumming/ pulsing sound.

I will go ahead and tell you of the first two journeys, followed by the art that came after them. Then I will fill in the details scantily of each tribe as I and my soul family are allowed. This way all are represented in the readers’ minds as they gaze into these paintings. I did not use my drumming tape for these journeys, although I did hear a drumming/ pulsing sound.

I will go ahead and tell you of the first two journeys, followed by the art that came after them. Then I will fill in the details scantily of each tribe as I and my soul family are allowed. This way all are represented in the readers’ minds as they gaze into these paintings. I did not use my drumming tape for these journeys, although I did hear a drumming/ pulsing sound.

I will go ahead and tell you of the first two journeys, followed by the art that came after them. Then I will fill in the details scantily of each tribe as I and my soul family are allowed. This way all are represented in the readers’ minds as they gaze into these paintings. I did not use my drumming tape for these journeys, although I did hear a drumming/ pulsing sound.

VISIT I: Rhombi

Rhombi was living on a remote island that felt similar to eastern Africa, but the land was not in Africa. This land was far distant from earth. A protective energy shield seemed to radiate around all the people of our peaceful tribe. We tended a strange and beautiful creature, like a Llama with horns, but charged with the mystical spirit of a unicorn.

These beasts were valued by our tribe for their fur, for the milk they gave and for their horns which shed yearly. Horns were used for making tools, musical instruments and pipes for herbal smoke. “Caught” horns were used for shamanic journeying and other rituals. A few elder women used horn splinters to make small needles, used in healings.

The most peculiar product of this beast was its tears. Once harvested, the tears were used as medicine for many ailments. Tears were combined with herbs and plant juices as an elixir for youth and strength. When combined with plant oils and a milky sap from dense forest trees, the tears quickened healing of skin in a lotion mixture for these small, brown, beautiful people.

It was early morning on the island. It appeared that all the tribal men and women were bustling about, carrying out their shared tasks intently. One man, very close to me, mentioned that he would take Masa, one of the lead beasts — and his favor-ite — and was ready to begin the journey. Another young man, either Rhombi’s or my brother or son, sat nearby engaging a small group of children in putting the final touches on a musical instrument carved from bone. A woman and her girl-child rolled up woven reed cloths with special food for the occasion. Everything being done today was for an annual journey.

As we began herding the docile beasts carefully up the mountain I noticed an overwhelming sense of joy exuding from all, human and animal alike. Two days later, after reaching the plateau, the ceremonies began. At midnight, by the light of the

The Light

moon on the eleventh day, the tear harvest commenced. The beasts’ tears were collected into small flasks by women and their students, then gathered by others. Many nights later the ceremony would be given to express gratitude to the beasts for this harvest.

The people were patient in fulfilling their duties, always mindful of the beasts’ well-being. The horns would soon fall, but their mystical properties dissipated at the touch of hand prior to their shedding. This was known by every member of our tribe through stories of “catchings”. If an attentive or intuitive member caught a shed horn prior to its fall to the earth, much laughter and glee emitted from others working nearby, for the harvesting of these “caught” horns was considered a sign of very good will from the feminine and masculine powers of the Creators.

Awkward leaping methods employed by the catchers sent other tribe members into a frenzy of anecdotes, animation and gut-splitting laughter. Witnessing these sporadic, festive “catchings” across the entire plateau was music to my soul.

While some people gathered and sorted the horns, others combed the beasts, gathering the tawny fur speckled with gold and silver strands into their wraps. The beasts were delighted by this ritual, lighter for the giving and afterwards jumped playfully about.

During thanks-giving at moon’s end, the catchers were honored in a parade through the tribe, so the children could touch them, while the singers, pipers and drummers played the heart rhythm of the tribe. Through the fingertips, it was believed, the God’s and Goddess’ great energy that was bestowed upon the catchers could be shared and, thus, multiplied through the tribe. Most importantly, since the elderly had also climbed up the mountain yet another year, they considered themselves worthy and honored to be called children, still. In this manner, the result was that EVERY finger of EVERY person on the plateau touched the catchers. The intense energy multiplied to rise at the outer rim of the crowds around the catchers, entic-ing spirits of the dead to join in these festivities. Animals and birds came in closer to see the catchers and to enjoy, take part, and witness the sharing.

Music from the lips of our singers and fingers of our drummers married in the autumn air above and around us all, swirling the tribe’s heart-pulse in spirals that reached the proper stars. This music was sung through the body — not from it. It came up through our feet, through every layer of our bodies and every level of existence and traveled into the galaxy, touching the hopes and hearts of all that could hear and feel it. We were all thoroughly, intensely, ever grateful to be alive, just then.

Stillness of the SeerAcrylic on Board

13-1/2” x 10”2004

The Dark

VISIT II: Parasystole

I traveled deeper into the memories of this tribe, while hearing a pulsing beat in my ears that welled up from all around me, traveling through my body. When I began to see this land, this planet, this home to Rhombi’s people again, the colors around this planet were subdued in brilliance compared to the first journey. Gradually I started seeing the difference in the angles of the geometric forms swirling in the outer reaches of the planet’s atmosphere and orbital space. These were angled sharp-er and swifter in movement, undulating as forms transitioned through the series of platonic solids interspersed with other serpentine forms. These were interrupted by a third type of wave made heavy by the dragging interstices, like sludge ether or dark matter from unfinished thoughts. Pulses of chaos.

Everything had changed. The tribe was gone.

The island itself had been assaulted. It seemed that all growth was bent, broken or stifled for a time. The beasts had been shaved. Their horns were cropped to within half an inch of their heads. They had been beaten and stampeded to force them onto the ships. Many had fallen and were being butchered on the spot.

The fury within me welled to unfathomable proportions at my inability to stop this slaughter. I was not in human form during this part of the journeying. I was much larger than the beasts and hovering as near to the planet’s surface as possible, yet aware of perceptions from a multitude of perspectives upon every scene.

An army of men in drab clothing zealously herded the remaining beasts onto waiting cargo ships along the coast. The beasts were nothing but shells, for with their tears drained their souls.

The vitality of the beasts’ tears diminished until they became as poison — staining the skin black below their eyes. As they wept, they made no sound of their own. Their mourning and desperation was instead manifested in all other life forms that witnessed their imminent transport.

A barely perceptible stir occurred as the ghostly ships left the island. Though intending the beasts for trade, some of these strange men grew faint at heart in fulfilling the beasts’ fated doom. The imminent slaughter was spoken through the vigor-ous swimming of the fish alongside the ships, in the undulating blackness of birds hovering above, and in the distance, thick weeping of the primates. In the ships’ wakes, and spreading outward to surround this armada of death ships,

thousands of dolphins were screaming of the horror.

“Was the sea more fierce today?” the men wondered.

When the ships reached the harbor of the mainland, the hum of horror crept slowly under the traders’ skin, festering there by stares from the inland people, from the gathering blackness in the clouds above and the incessant whistling of the wind.

With a tsunami’s force, word was carried to the fenced stock. Beasts of burden, sheep and goats burst through the barri-ers, trampling and scattering wares in every direction — an explosion of chaos as the energy spread. That energy vibrated through the tiniest of insects, birds, animals, trees, rocks and the inland people in a shockwave that was visible as it struck each particle of life. It oozed from every cell. Like drops of lava it burned into the traders’ conscience.

I became aware that this energy was countered by a palpable, deeply vibrating, humming tone entering my spine at the base. As I watched the chaos on the mainland, I was aware that the people of Rhombi’s tribe had faced their deaths bravely. Some in this tribe whom I had known had chosen to hold their lover’s hand as they leapt off the mountain cliffs to certain death, with a promise to find each other in the next life. Others had attempted to flee the invaders, yet others were fighting bravely to preserve the lives of children they had hidden.

The low vibration became a deep chant, coming up through Rhombi’s planet, traveling to earth to my sleeping body and en-tering into my feet. It traveled through my 3D body, becoming a roaring in my ears. As though in doubt, I denied its mean-ing. In utter confusion of its source, yet aware of recognizing it, I noticed that the energy of the chant within the journey meant more than my current understanding of dreams, and determined, I began to search for the vortex.

Back into the dream. Back to the planet via the sensation of a severe compression of bodies... until I could become like a wisp of smoke. Back to the time of the waiting cargo ships in the harbor.A sea eagle heard my query and called out to me. From the cargo ship, I entered into flight after him, toward the island home from which the ships had traveled. Onshore, in the sky, the branches swaying directed me onward, left, right, right, left, left. Then a bird, barely visible in the foliage of the canopy above, flying quickly through forest, led me through tunnels and dark-ness with mist sliced by my racing bodies, intermittently a single, solid form, and a series of flowing prismatic undulations of color and clouds swirling forward.

I entered a foliated passage through brush and fog. Suddenly, I was in the form of my solid body, standing in a clearing of soft, lush, green grass, swayed by soft breezes in occasional beams of sunlight through the forest trees.

Out of nowhere a door appeared. My body was in the form of my current incarnation. But there was something different about the life in this clearing. I felt as though the grass, trees and soil were of the same life as my body and I sensed the feel-ing of the sunlight on my leaves... my blades of grass surrounding me and the door. The door itself was alive, and of the same vibrations of energy as the air I breathed in, my lungs panting from the exertion of this flight from the harbor. My breath eased gradually to match the energy all around me. The vibrations stopped. The door opened.

Down a long dimly lit corridor I walked hesitantly until at the threshold of an awesome columnar room. In the center, sus-pended from beyond the clouds and shining deep into the earth, were thousands of gold, silver and leather strands. Loops of carved wood hung from some of these, and all swayed gently around a huge beam of yellow-white light.

I puzzled over the familiarity of the humming sounds which emanated from the light. It resonated through the fibers as the volume increased. With piqued curiosity I walked slowly around this temple of light numerous times, listening for meaning in the chant. Each time around, it became louder, and clearer. Louder and louder it rang in my body, while the gentle swaying of the strands inside the temple of light gradually became thrashing, much like trees’ limbs in a violent storm as you watch from below.

All at once, instantly, I found myself in the center of light. The chant was deafening. The temple had become a tower of whirl-ing fury until...I began to feel the meaning, I began to remember. My bodies were calmed. I began to shrink as time passed while focusing on the meaning of the chants. I became a tiny resonating fiber in one of the strands. The chant became my own breath which welled up from the core of my being and struck the tine of memory from 28 centuries before this massacre...and I knew them again. These beings were the descendants of Rhombi’s original tribe, invaded by a foreign species.

This chant was the collective spirits of the missing tribe. They had been massacred for their piety, for their belief that there was no separation between themselves and God/ Goddess/ Creators; that they were co-creators with the prime creators and

“We must begin to understand the universal language” — Rhombi

that everything — plant, animal, rock, planets, stars, universes, and every being within them, and the very air they breathed was this same energy source speaking to all that is.

Rhombi’s tribe’s spirits moved and learned through use of these bodies, migrating to a distant land. Some of these were re-born again as similar beings to the massacred tribe, many centuries later. Some of these migrated a great distance. Some of these found caverns beneath the surface of our planet and lived there in a separate world. But all remembered their history.

I also began to examine the deeds of this foreign species, and the issues over which they organized their existence. Deep at the core was darkness... there was only a tiny glowing ember of the promise of life... but there were no threads of light con-necting their hearts. Gradually I saw that in their angry, guileful faces over-hardened by use there existed fissure cracks that were letting very faint red-orange light emanate through.

The skin was thinning between these two worlds.

The chant became a trickle of light that crept through obstructions in my body, through an eternity of apathy and ambiva-lence, until it lodged in my throat. My consciousness, a tangled, gnarled mass of barbed wire straining against the force of history, would not allow this energy to move. I began to resonate violently in the gold, silver, leather and wood as it swirled furiously, faster and faster, louder and louder until the parasystolic map carved its way through my body, mind and soul, through the history of all that ever was, yet stopping at my throat instantly with my fear of letting go the old paradigm. Like a single blood cell blocking the passage of life through the constricted vein, my consciousness locked down. Is this what fear does? Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.Then, one liquid tone... at the eye of my throat, oscillated through a cell wall and broke into the cell, instantly crystallizing it with a pure azure blue light. It continued and another followed behind it, one by one, dismantling these old paradigm walls that separated physical cells in my throat from the energy of spiritual communication — and crystallizing each cell of my body forever, the colors changing according to its use in communicating body wisdom. And as the growing throng of voices rose up through my body and sang through my throat, the dissected parts of my consciousness fell away to reveal the expo-nentially expanding awareness of it ALL — All darkness and fury, pain and hatred; all love and beauty, innocence and light; ALL language of tongue and without chanted its memory through me.

The chant became my own words, spoken through the union of wisdom with my soul and my body. At first just a whisper, “my house” and again, recognition, “is your house”...of spinning in the vibration and light as I struggled for a separate self. I thought of finding a way to stop this process and climb out of this thing... this gigantic column of light... I fran-tically thought perhaps I could just run down the corridor and find my way back through the forest to my bed where I was sleeping... go back to my small life and forget about this.

But the whispers became strong voices, repeating “my house” in EVERY language, “is your house” speaking through me…and my ego realized that this energy is mine, it is my spirit, my essence, not just the tribe I knew, or the beasts, just like the dolphins were screaming for them, or other lives I’ve lived...they are coming through from all points of earth and beyond... from all points of my existence with Rhombi’s tribe and planet...and from all that EVER was...and though we are individuals with unique histories — manifestations of our own choices,we have never made a choice that did NOT affect every other BEING in existence...we are all connected, and share as one “MY HOUSE”…and this is my home planet, and my earth “IS YOUR HOUSE” screaming through meMY HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE... MY HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE...MY HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE!!! End Of Journeys —

If one who lives here cannot or will not see that what we do to others we do to self, that what we do to one, we do to ALL, then they haven’t yet awoken. The act of doing cannot ever be erased. Even the contemplation of an act has spread its energy to all that is. Making the choice to do it returns this energy to its maker. This is the Breath of Life.

Knowing this is at the very base of an emotionless mind — the first lesson of our survival.How it is used by most determines nothing for eternity.How many have been affected determines everything, positive and negative.How we measure what has been determined affects policies,unless we wisely use all of our knowledge — body mind and soul.

Journeysend

Transformation was inspired by the tribal dream, Visit II, in which the vibrational frequency resonating through my body informed me of transformations that must be made within for humankind to survive this ascension alive. It began the dissection of all that I knew, filling me with information from billions of voices in all languages, distilling to the idea that we are — body, mind and soul — as ONE.

Transformation (Diptych) Conte Crayon and Charcoal on Paper 72” x 70.5” 1988

Soul Family/Groupnotes

The undertone to the steady pulsat-ing beat during this journey was a spiraling sound undulating around the main tone. This correlated to pulsating images — snapshots of human history lived wrongly — based on the deceptions that humans had all come to accept as reality.

When I drew these lines, I thought of all the arms and legs of all that ever lived, and what they were doing, what they were learning and teaching. Tribe 4, Ari’s, is in the mountains. They are the pyramid builders. They did not need written language to do this. They are the body knowledge beings.

The marble in their buildings is alive, pulsing in the veins. One of the seven tribes are the first to have tamed these beasts to have symbiotic relationship with our kind. Tribes 4 and 5 got their starting herd from them, and learned the ways of their language.

To the right are the notes from my soul and my soul family, from the journeys back to our homeland to correlate the reading of these paintings. The crosshatched edges of both the head and foreleg depict the limits of this tribal portion of the story being told currently to our kind.

If one of us views these drawigs, they may notice the sensations around their nape of neck toward the left shoulder especially. This is followed by the tingling from the ground upward into the lower legs. After this is a pulsating rhythym emanating from around the heart in waves that seem to reach crescendo and move up the spine in a bright flash upward through the crown.

We1 ask that all those from Ari’s tribe and the Pious tribe of the mountain range try to find each other to heal.

Not all the lessons for working with these beasts had been taught.Not all was as it seemed.Nor was it possible to foresee all that was to happen there.

Some may feel the pull of a dual coriolis spinning energetically within their bodies. This appears to be proper healing movement of energy.Expect some jerking movemments through the mid-back, followed by flashes of visualization from those days. Assist each other through the unfoldment of those memories. We will establish connecting points for sharing the knowledge directly, as more and more awaken.

1 soul family and others helping to write this story)

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Rhombi meetsfish spirit

Rhombi had just traveled from Tribe 1. They lived near the sea on land that had steep cliffs near the water’s edge. Generally quiet beings, they held knowledge of subtle ener-gies. They were also very attuned to the natural world, whales and other sea creatures.

Rhombi was a Seer for all seven tribes and had spent most of her life traveling, to serve the needs of everyone. She traveled to Tribe 2 — The Forest/ Fish Beings — for learning from their elders, and interpreting their visions. Most of the medicine that came from these foothills, deep forest trees and plants, was very important — it was shared at gatherings of all seven tribes.

Occasionally, the travelers for education in various disciplines brought medicine to the tribe being visited. Methods were taught by at least one of the medicine students that traveled with each group.

Tribe 2 were also ex-cellent fishers, know-ing well the lakes of this region and were blessed by Makkar’s understanding of fish ways — having been taught to all.

Makk

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Heading 1When Rhombi met Makkar, known as Fish Spirit, the energy in both of them opened up sto-ries buried in their souls’ blood. In the South, many generations earlier, the Rhot-Huran birds living high in the trees had spoken to an el-der of Tribe 7 — on the prophecy of four special beings born in the same year of Simsi-ki/Hushtaa1. Here were two of them meeting for the first time, both having developed their body knowledge.

1 Every 144 years, the predominant currents

brought Simsiki, a solid year of gentleness. More

births happened during those years than during

any other time. This was usually followed by 10-

12 years of bountiful harvest.

Hushtaa was their name for the 39-year cycle:

loud, roaring winds; low, black clouds and green

sky; thrashing currents and rip tides that wiped

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The Journeysprophesy

Simsiki/Hushtaa cycles were very rare and special, happening only every [5,616] years. It is the year of perfectly balanced opposing forces. The tribes had expected something amazing to happen in that year of perfection, as it had always been. It so happened that during one of these cycles the Rhot-huran had spoken of four possible Seers amongst the newborn of various tribes that would be born centuries later in the same year of a Simsiki/Hushtaa.

The Rhot-Huran birds had also brought news of an impending journey out of necessity, from a series of natural disasters for a Northern tribe, and the elders prophesied from signs that this journey would be led by one of the four Seers.

The elders used signs to calculate the year. Over the centuries, sign-tellers continued to corroborate the year, and shared this prophecy at gatherings of the tribes. Very rarely would the sign-teller need to consult the Seer, “the chosen one” who would channel the spirits and speak their voice. It was thought to be a duty by every person to de-velop their ability to read signs and intuit the truth. They understood that sometimes their minds, for want of something, would block the truth. Only the Seer, who prac-ticed their given gift for walking between the worlds could see the path needed for the sign-teller to rebalance the winds of their mind.

Often, truth is like the life of a tree beginning with a seed, growing roots and a trunk, branching out, out, out to a wide canopy of leaves. The wind pitches the leaves and smaller twigs easily; the large branches with considerable effort, and very seldom actu-ally moving the trunk as well. But the roots stay still. This is what the Seer was to the tribes: its stillness.

When the Simsiki/Hushtaa year finally came, the entire mountain range, savannah and forests were abuzz with this news. As the bellies of the pregnant women would grow, so would the tribes’ interest in their dreams, their babies’ soul songs, their animal signs and their health. Naturally, these women were glowing, each one believing she carried one of the four special children.

These are the four: Hannuktu, Rhombi and her twin Ra-An-Tu, Makkar.

Elder With Rhot-Huran: A Prophecy of Journeys 13.5” x 10” Acrylic February, 2004

Rhombi was the strongest of the four Seers. While all the four Seers trav-eled to the other tribes, Rhombi traveled one-third of her adulthood.

Makkar was a sweetheart, a very empathic being, and quick to bring laughter with his prankster ways. His strength came from the core knowledge of this planet and the ancient fish. His parents knew this from age three.

Tribe 2 lived in an area of the foothills where large veins of minerals and crystals striated through precipices of sharply angled rock near the base. The soil striped in this region near the mineral veins was dark pink in hue, between dark olive-green. Tree species of this region included Pine, Elm and Sycamore — sources of strong medicine.

The “windows” shown in both of these art works indicate an indefinite period of specific events for transformation and self-evolution that would become instrumental for the other tribe members’ spiritual development.These triggers were dependant upon series of events which were at times delayed or expedited by the successes and failures of other human-like species. Communication between us was silent of words, but pulsated through bio-photons of love frequency. These “windows” into the soul’s history can be seen by those resonating at the same frequency ranges.

Rhombi and Makkar’s meeting affected the fabric of their souls by the information shared through these windows. Both beings carried with honour these access points to the coded body knowledge information, so they could share with their tribes when it was propitious for tribe mem-bers to learn it, and they were both also metamorphosized by knowing it all those years. Patience was one of the messages that came in the codes. There would be influences of verisimilitude that could cost many lives if these four beings did not hold fast to the truth. Communication between them was finely tuned, anchored deeply in the source of energy that ema-nates throughout All-That-Is. Nothing could be betrayed between them.

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Stillnessof the Seer

And so, the journeys came to be. The seed of truth was given by the creator, witnessed by the spirits of all who had lived before on this land, and by all the unborn yet to share a place in this family.

It was at once germinated by the Seer, who stills themself to the state of equal receptivi-ty and creativity, becoming a vibration with the truth. It is this vibration which reaches past all thought back to the origin of the cre-ator’s thought and simultaneously resonates forth through him/her to manifest as some-thing known by feel uniformly in the people.

It came to life through the roots and fed every leaf and branch. The tribes, living as a tree, came to understand which branch-es, leaves and fruit were to be pruned and transplanted to the Isles of Hopha in the Seer’s vision.

This part was known from the prophecy: the journey would split apart one tribe into two. Centuries later, it was clear why two of the Seers were born as twins.

Rhombi’s special skills were needed to de-liver the tribe to the islands location to call home. When the tribe needed to split, Rhombi’s sister Ra-An-Tu, also a Seer, led the remaining tribe for the Western Journey to a new home.

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At one point the tribe was faring poorly for lack of food, not being familiar with this land. They traveled along a river that had nearly dried up. While still on the trail, Rhombi felt something messaging her through her feet and up her lower legs. She waded into the muddy water of the dying riv-er. There in the very narrowest and deepest parts of the muddy river were thousands of fish. From this wondrous finding of food, Rhombi was called “Woman with Fish Spirit.”

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There You Are...Waiting For a Sign, at left, was inspired by tribal dreams after the initial Parasystole Journeys. This male figure spoke of the importance in abandoning other plans, in order to make art that addressed my dream/journey experiences. The pre-requisite was to begin diving headlong into deep-seated fears.

Although I resisted zealously at first, heading to England for graduate studies and all that would entail, this figure and his “familiar”, the stag oryx, presented themselves in the most unexpected of places — in shadows of performances in England, in light refrac-tions of photos of other subjects, in the folds of drapery, etc. Finally I made this piece in February, 1989.

This piece was lost in England for two years, then repaired and reworked in 1994, when signs pointed to showing it.

Three months after initially creating this drawing, I tested the spirit world. I gathered gold chains and hung them on a board along one plane, then intended to photograph these while swinging them back and forth, while asking spirits to show me that this male figure’s request was real. The photo is shown at right. Although I have not met anyone on earth that resembles this person, finding this image repeated made me feel guilty for doubting his existence.

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Testing the spirits

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At left is the art work with notes from my soul and soul family. This is from sometime between February and April, 2013, after we journeyed back to recapture and check information that was read in the original drawing.

Tribe 5 are the Mountain Range Tribe. Their lives were depicted in the Parasystole Journeys. Their history was important, especially for Tribe 7, as they prepared to set out in search of a new land to call home.

Indicated below “at eye” or “at mouth” are the areas my soul and soul family read the stories of Tribe 5 in this drawing. Tribe 7 information was in the bottom portion of this diptych. Imme-diately after a 5-minute reading of this smaller drawing, my soul and soul family went to read the story within Torso Interiors.

Tribe 7 were seafarers with magnificent ships. They had suffered attacks, some of which is indicated in Torso Interiors. See page 52. [More to be said about this — must ask incarnated tribe 7 member for input]

Sacredgeometry

Shortly after returning to the states from England, I had begun work on the phi ratio studied in classical architecture and Renaissance Master paintings. A visit to the Louvre and architecture in Paris proved these elements abundantly worth the trip.

I do not recall whether I had another journey, however, I was suddenly aware that I had seen a “Map” of Parasystole, full of coded, holographic, geometric images seen in the light temple. So this initial sketch is included in case some information was not conveyed in the final piece.

These voices I had heard in the humming and pulsing while I had become a tiny particle in the beam of light. They spoke of the most poignant events moving the tribe along its collective evolutionary path of enlightenment. Beginning with phi, geometric forms in brilliant colors started to solidify in the air around me. These suddenly began to unfold, flipping open the sides of forms to become part of tetra-hedrons or simplify to loose rectangle shapes or cubes. Some were very large, then showing tight rows of tiny lights representing a flat facet on the form.

I began to understand these forms to represent time periods of evolutionary break-throughs in thought and increasing transparency in the energetic exchange of in-formation. With that were others that stagnated and congested, slowing the energy to a crawl pace, and eventually beginning to flow again. This piece is a map: coded keys of shapes and colors representing necessary shifts and awareness required for ascension from 1989 to the shift event. Each part locked and unlocked in its meta-morphosis to becoming the coded key. While this is just a 2-dimensional drawing, it is instilled with these processes for others to read and benefit.

Following is the final art work and the image with notes written in the spring of 2013, by my soul and soul family interpreting the drawing. An investigation into the creative process reveals the workings of left and right hemispheres of the brain through fMRI’s. The new synapses are the “creative process”.

Acceptance of these unknown, dark voids that must be traversed to seek truth involves the will. It is original experience in the methods used by the higher self to assuage the ego’s fears, and to involve the will to let go, thereby traveling forth via new synaptic connections of creative process.

Map ofparasystole

In this society, too often, women receive messages that they are only capable of biological cre-ation; that there is no need for them to attempt non-biological creation. It is particularly alarm-ing to see the development of the “New Right”, devaluing creative expression, resulting in creativity separated as a vestigial sector of this society.

This makes me wonder why. Is this because visual language is a facet of body knowledge, and without body knowledge it is eas-ier to manipulate those who use only their consciousness (ego) as intelligence?

What happens on earth, especially at this “Event” window beginning in 2012, affects many similar planets in this entire existence. It is the Andromedan scientists that found evidence of severe manip-ulation by certain species involved with the earth humans, through contracts with the military-indus-trial complex.

These were investigated among the Galactic communities. They found the foundational struc-tures for mind manipulation and other controlling strategies extant throughout. The projected date for these manipulations to lock Ma

p of P

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in and take complete effect of con-trol was 357 years. The focal point of effort was earth. It is why there are now contracts with other alien species to allow intervention on this planet. Without this, the manipula-tions would not be able to be stud-ied and dismantled throughout our known existence.

www. Exopolitics.org has archived one of these contracts. They have also recorded comprehensive documenta-tion of real vs. unsubstantiated UFO contacts and abductions. Most in-teresting is a document called “Iden-tifying the Motivations & Activities of Extraterrestrial Races. In this are two lists of alien species, based upon whether they are directly involved with the Military-Industrial-Extra-terrestrial Complex.

It begs the question: are people like me, and others who work toward helping humans, the property of our governments? How do we find out the parameters? It seems very appar-ent to me now, after 50 years here.

It is very clear that this creative process is and must be, by design for control, the main focal point to target. Just don’t draw outside the lines TOO FAR. As indicated at right, same as all these images, very little information was written about tribes 1 & 2 in my soul & family’s notes.

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Sacred Tears 51” x 47” Oil on Tygerrag March 1990

Sacred tears

At left, in Sacred Tears and Harvest (see next page), an energy field is indicated: see the horn in The Harvest; and in Sacred Tears it begins at the eye of the beast, at which the soul of the woman is already preparing the beast for extraction of its tears.

Energy runs along the spine to back legs and down to the ground. These were the areas my soul and soul family studied and discussed with me.

At the right are these notes on tribes, written in the spring of 2013. My soul family spent several hours around the eye of the oryx and the chest of the woman. Au-tomatic drumming ensued after reading the energy field.

This painting was inspired by the mountain trek story of the first journey. At left, I am including this initial sketch of Sacred Tears since there appear to be elements not used in the final piece which may be necessary to communicate a code. My soul and soul family spent considerable time around the eye of the oryx. The final piece does not have any of those markings. There are also markings in what appear to be dwellings.

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The Harvest Oil on Canvas 30” x 40” 1990

In The Harvest, above, the female figure is a depiction of a “catcher”, imbued with the good will of the Mother-Father Creator for her attentiveness, propitiousness and care of the beast amidst a dashing move to capture the falling horn.

The catchers of this tradition would later parade through the crowd at thanks-giving, being touched by everyone in the tribe. In this manner the tribe outwardly displayed to children the sharing of energy used throughout all areas of their lives, from survival by sharing the meat of the kill, to spiritual rites that spoke to inhabitants of planets in other star systems, other species and the creators.

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The image of Wound, at right, came from a short lucid dream about Rhombi’s sister Ra-An-Tu. She was creeping forward stealthily, ready to spring. Grandmother energies surrounded her. Suddenly she was hit in the gut. I witnessed the giving of life. Then I saw this energy visibly rip through her body.

Moments later, I felt what it was to die this way. Like a black hole suddenly at the center of the will — the life force being exploded throughout my entire body.

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Sisterwarriors

Sister Warriors is an extension of Wound, after I found more of the details about Ra-An-Tu, a very cou-rageous hunter. If I have room I will include the legend of courage on her first hunt.

This piece commemorates the sheer power of her will. Information of this battle and others fought by her grandmothers and their women-kind was told and encoded into the holo-gram depicted in the lower right.

Egyptians used this symbol, condens-ing it to create their Ankh, although much had been lost in translating it. I had initially seen this symbol in a dream on June 5, 1991: I was at an antique sale of modern day, and found a large pendant with this exact design. It had silver, Lapis Lazuli and unknown red stones in it, which were not coral, but a brighter crimson to burnt sienna color range.

The smaller circular design was not embedded, but floated on the sur-face as I examined the pendant. It appears to have been either a precur-sor to this larger design, or perhaps representing a different stage in a transition of spiritual connection to All-That-Is.

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The central Black & White figure represents Tribe 6. They were living at, or fighting a battle at, the base of a mountain range near Tribe 5. They had discovered the medicinal quali-ties of the oryx tears. When the tribes gathered together for “naming” of the adolescents’ talents, this medical information was also shared. Its tech-niques, recipes and processes were taught to the other tribes.

The Red figure is from Tribe 3. Due to natural catastrophes affected their homeland, they needed to seek new land to call “home”. This was prophesied by a Tribe 7 elder with a Rhot-Huran bird (bottom left), about connecting with this tribe.

Tribe 3 brought rituals of gathering tears and other medicines from Tribe 6, to a new homeland chosen for the same plateaus on mountains, and easy to climb. Mineral springs and waterfalls were plentiful throughout the new homeland. Mineral-rich red soil was also found. This new home was the Isle of Hopha surrounded by other smaller islands.

Blue Figure is Tribe 7: The Boat Be-ings. They lived on the southern rim of this planet. Natural catastrophic events also forced them to seek a new home. They traversed the Southern Rim, entering the central Western

Heading 1

side, near the savannahs of the splintered group from Tribe 3, that had jour-neyed to this new home. After this migration, these two tribes influenced each other greatly, advancing the tribes’ spiritual and energy work as a whole. Both tribes had formerly been isolated, but this synergistic relationship between these tribes benefitted both.

The journeys and minor migrations of other tribes was read and communicated to me from the painting, “Raising the Pearl”, by my soul, my soul family, and the larger soul group members representing the tribes involved. Other paintings that depicted parts of this legend were Map of Parasystole, Sacred Tears, Torso Interiors, Race With Animus, and Arc of Animus.

While it was truly wonderful to learn the information in these paintings — holding the key events that led to the seven tribes’ transformation and evolution — there were certainly some harsh realities and deaths that I remembered. My as-sumption is that the download of information in the undulat-ing geometric forms during a subsequent journey contained the details of such tribal journeys and trials. Certainly there were also flash memories of things humans have done to each other, from the end of the second Shamanic journey, which are affecting me now as well.

As I print the high-resolution images of these paintings and drawings, more of these memories surface and hit my heart with great force. I am able to to sit with these for awhile, and transmute to joy through my body, upward from my heart through my crown, and downward to my feet, anchoring this in earth. It is all about growth, enlightenment, and a broader awareness.

Now it appears that others have painted from dreams and journeys, with similar themes. I have met some of these art-ists. I believe there are some who have memories from their dreams/journeys of the same history as the Rhombi journeys, so I am interested in gathering with these people in order to corroborate these historical events.

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In Ghost of the Ring Dance studies at left, the inspiration was a shamanic journey for myself to connect with fragmented parts from past lives re-garding a soul mate and soul family. For the first time, these dog images came up, representing my spirit help-ers, holding me together. At times they may seem antagonistic, yet their insights are needed when I am stubborn with my ego’s perceptions or intents.

Parisystole Amongst Burials, at right, depicts heartrest, and the circles represent various people whom I had the fortune to know before they died. The year prior to this painting had been the joyful birth and welcoming of my second son, after having mis-carried a girl-child. This year of ‘92 was extremely tough on me. Perhaps a year of just sorting things out.

The fact is, that some of these life events are deeply scarring, from which we don’t recover quickly. Sometimes we do not recover to a satisfactory state of mind and peace within. But no matter what, if this is buried, it will rise again to be exam-ined, giving us the opportunity to fully heal and go forward as a more whole being. In my case, it is exactly what is happening now, by examin-ing and healing myself from those events of 1991 and 1992. Pa

risys

tole A

mong

st Bu

rials

66” x

48”

Pa

stel o

n Pap

er

1992

Race withanimus

Race

With

Anim

us

49.5”

x 54

”

Oi

l on C

anva

s

Nov

embe

r 199

3

Jungian influence made me re-exam-ine the concept of ascension without death. Just how conscious are earth’s inhabitants, of the impending ascen-sion energy shifts in this galaxy?

The Animus spurs me to create. But I have a body that’s sensitive to many on this planet. So it is time-consum-ing to sort through which of these sensations are mine for transition/ transmutation from 3D to 5D and which are the others’.

Events involving this “shift” caused necessary measure of earth inhabi-tants’ readiness for this, beginning between 12-12-12 and 12-21-12.

In Race With Animus, at left, my soul and soul family were alarmed by the reading of the clouds in this paint-ing. Very few earth inhabitants had acknowledged the upcoming event as anything other than another Y2K false alarm. Much had been hidden, manipulated, or distorted to appease the masses, while other events had been stalled by “darks”.

However, upon reading the 1996 painting, Arc of Animus1, and the Red Trees2 triptych, they discovered that where I live has similar trees that are gathering the data. These sycamore, maple, pines and spruce had all

1 see next page.2 see two pages after this page.

originated on our planet. The data read from the live trees in Spring of 2013 indicated that con-sciousness of earth’s inhabitants is catching up with their souls’ and bodies’ knowledge of the shift to 5th Dimensional existence. Obviously, I have no scientific data gathered to corroborate this. Perhaps somebody else has taken the temperature by polling.

Above are the notes from soul and soul family written on tissue over the print. I knew this painting was potent. My intent was strong. This time it felt like I was truly aware of setting aside my ego while painting. All of these notes reflect similar findings in other paintings as noted.3

3 Sister Warriors p. 40, Sacred Tears p.37. see reference page to locate other images.

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On an overcast day, I was walking home from class at University in the Fall. I was looking at the ground while thinking. All at once I noticed the brilliant red leaves of a red maple tree on the dark green grass next to the leaf-covered sidewalk. I looked up and was hit with the most pervasive presence of the huge maple tree in all its splendid redness — in the crown and blanketing the drip zone of its canopy — against the backdrop of three oriental spruces.

I painted several pieces trying to capture the essence of that feeling. Nothing worked.Finally one day I just made theses canvases and started painting. I may have dreamed about flying.

Ancient red tree

Red Trees Oil on Canvas triptych 30” x 74” 1980

Leaped

“The secret of flying is love of the fall” — poet Frances Phillips

Raisingthe pearl

This painting was Solar Plexus and Creativity/Sexuality chakra work. Solar Plexus is “one’s will” —get-ting your work out into the world. The Sexuality/Creativity chakra is female/ male balance within, required for non-biological creativity.

As I was stunted in these areas by being taught that the intuitive voice was superfluous, having lost a girl-child was a stimulus to focus on this. It was necessary to regress back via shamanic journeys and crystal healings to that point in my life and then reteach my inner girl-child of her worth.

My name means, “The Pearl”. Originally, I thought these roots around the oyster shell represent both the energy that bleeds imper-ceptibly out to others when one cannot impose boundaries in or-der to create; and it represents the slow growth of roots (as we grow into full self) and their penetrating quality. New meaning was learned last spring.

As the girl-child within relearns and grows, with her boundaries intact, this enables the woman to give out energy to others with-out depletion. Woman must feed herself first.

Raisi

ng th

e Pea

rl

37” x

32”

Oil o

n Can

vas

199

3

When my soul and the soul group read this painting in early April of 2013, I was very surprised to hear their reading. This was the first major realization that there was more than meets the eye in these paintings.

After this, we began deep inves-tigation of all my paintings since 1988. This piece was the sec-ond-most-studied painting.

At this time, there were references to a healing ship, since I had suffered some damage to my emotional stor-age. There was a loud crack sound, and I fell to the floor, exhausted. This was different from shamanic jour-neying... there were long periods of literally having my body pressed to the floor by the pressure. At left are the Spring 2013 notes.

This painting was de-scribed earlier as having a figure painted by my soul, since I had requested assistance for the “dreamer” figure. My ego’s idea of this image was quite different than the dreamer figure that appeared through the scrubbed-out burnt um-ber of previous attempts.

This was being painted concurrently with Race With Animus, and numer-ous studies for that, so the finish date is unclear. Possibly, it was finished before November 1993.

Torsointeriors

Images in Torso Interiors began emerging after a series of pains in the torso and upper thighs manifested very quickly, trig-gered by meeting someone with whom I sensed many past lives. Our initial attraction to each other was overwhelming, but we did not succumb to the sex-ual urges, or compromise my marriage to my husband.

Beneath the veneer of interests in quartz crystals, becoming stronger as time lapsed, was the desire to know why we had met at this time. Due to the pains that surfaced, I realized I needed to face specific issues/memories stored in my body. The impetus to continue searching was the realiza-tion that this soul connection occurred many lifetimes over similar issues of love, desire and my betrayal of another female soul.

Ultimately this was about set-ting the heart free by speaking the truth — without expecta-tions, unconditionally — on the question of whether or not we were soul mates. We talked at length about this specific lifetime in Rhombi’s story, from Journey I. Although this was a

Torso

Inter

iors

60

” x 52

”

Oi

l on C

anva

s

1

994

difficult experience, we both eventually agreed that we were not meant to be together this lifetime. He called it agapé love.

In spring of 2013, my soul and soul family read this painting, finding that this was about Tribe #7, and at least one being from another Tribe. See notes at right.Evident in this piece are a number of faces from the Rhombi Journey.

There are also “familiars” that had been with me during my past lives. These familiars appear during the act of paint-ing without my intent to paint them:

Ancient bird

Lion

Panther

Gorilla

Horses

Wolf

Snake

Tortoise

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The April 8, 1988 Rhombi Journey I seasonal trek up the mountain is de-picted in this painting. Strong over-tones of the feminine ritual-building drive by the timing of the moons may be an influence from this peri-od. There is importance in ritual as a basis upon which individuality rests; from which it develops in harmony with others: family and friends, com-munity, animals, plants, planets and elements of this existence.

The underworld and mirrored moons of the upper world are repre-sented here also. The timelessness of attending to things of these worlds in comparison to the linear timeline of the solid body world creates joy and extreme satisfaction of experiences.

Yet we are not to yearn for leaping to these worlds. Earth inhabitants do not know what the work is, or how it is accomplished once we are no lon-ger of the solid body. Perhaps some things are not so easy to work once we leave it.

But this 5th dimensional shift we are currently making allows some skills we once dreamed of using. There is much to learn. On the way, to be in joy, we must bring ourselves fully to the “NOW” moment, rather than the past or the future.

Flesh

ing O

ut Bo

nes B

etwee

n Moo

ns

44” x

29” O

il on C

anva

s

19

94 (F

emini

ne H

erita

ge)

From Parasystole Journey II, this painting at right, Gate, depicts the moment that I transitioned from a spirit body into my own solid body of this in-carnation. I had flown behind a sea eagle from the deck of the ship, and traveled through the forest following another bird.

At the point of finding the grassy meadow, I was clearly at mid-level journeying. This painting shows my recognition of vibrant energy while ap-proaching the door. I was realizing that the blades of grass began teeming with life...the same life that ran through grains of wood in the door, the veins of my feet, the veins in marble at my homeland and even the sounds I heard.

Gate is also record of 3rd Eye and Solar Plexus work, according to channeled information via my friend Stephen M. This has to do with trusting one’s vision as truth, and acting upon it to further the beauty of truth. This is a journey to the under-world as instructed by the map of parasystole.

I was to convert the fear of change into joy by looking into the deepest, darkest hidden doors within and connect to the vibrational frequency of the fears. This while holding on — keeping still — even though all of me wanted desperately to run away, until I could feel that this frequency was ex-actly the same as joy. 1. “The secret of flying is love of the fall” 2. Fear’s power is to use it —anonymous

The fears surrounded having to explain the tribal journey experiences, which may make me appear insane to peers. I am the gate to bring forth this reflection of my consciousness, soul and soul group’s experience by painting.

Gate

Gat

e

3

1” x

20”

G

old

Leaf

and

Oil

on C

anva

s

1995

Eye ofthroat

Eye of Throat is throat chakra work. This was from a journey to meet the soul of a person so feared when they crossed my spiritual path that I nearly abandoned it.

My throat was painful and the issue feared was voice and its power. By voice is meant expression and its power through both art and words.

Summoned from the very depths of one’s experience, the paradox is the vulnerability of the jugular vein and the very sap of life be-ing so near the surface, juxtapositioned with the power of voice being the main method of self-actualization.

Eye o

f Thr

oat

39

” x 30

”

Oi

l Pas

tel on

Pap

er

1

995

Tall Dreamat sunrise

At the time I jour-neyed with Shadow Hawk, I had an uneasy feeling that my spirit guides had chosen the wrong being for these tasks. But I am including these images of self as Dreamer/ Jour-neyer, since there were phenomenal amounts of infor-mation from this dream. Galvanized Dreamer, at left, and Tall Dream at Sun-rise, bottom right, were from a dream in December 1993, about these ancient lands.

In a later painting, Dreamer’s Journey 1995, the figure is in almost identical position. It was that painting which contains some of the geometrical content from this dream. Please compare this to Dreamer’s Journey on the following page.

It was in June of 2013 that I finally saw the third painting, Tall Dream of the Other, at top right. This series was a stretching of perceptions, from 3D to 4D in the second painting, stretching next to, and higher than, the 3D of Galvanized Dreamer. Finally the “Other” manifested the second mirroring of reality above 4D, but multidimen-sional with increasing energy layers above and outward from the 3D one.

Each layer enhanced the one before it. This unfolding of layers appears to reflect qualities of geometric forms I had seen in the original Rhombi Journey II Tower of Light, or during the journey following the death of a friend, in which he appeared as a white-tailed deer.

Tall D

ream

Gro

up

Mi

xed M

edia

on P

aper

Dece

mber

1993

, July

2013

Dreamer’sjourney

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Dreamer’s Journey 48” x 96” Oil on Canvas December 1995

Notes from soul and soul family 2013:

Originally, this canvas background paint was a Pollack-like painting called “Dance of Transition”, an expression of initiation, painted in 1982. It had relevance to healing, based on awareness of pain being emotional or physical trauma locked in the body. At that time, dance helped me uncover it.

These images came forth in dreams, journeys or visualization flashes after massage over several years. The un-derstanding of transformation came as if in the wake of the energy flow-ing through me during those dreams/ journeys, once those obstructions were cleared. In this way, I arranged images according to body location where these memories were stored.

The circular image on the right came to me in a dream from June 5, 1991. It spoke to me then of ancient knowl-edge predating Egypt. This knowl-edge is useful now as well as for the future of man.

In spring of 2013, my soul and soul family located areas of this painting that stored information on the seven tribes. Notes are below. See also the large print at the end of this section.

Mother’s songto her daughters and sons

Above is a sketch from early June 1989, inspired by the Rhombi Journeys. These are the figure of the fallen oryx/antelope type beast from the Parasystole Journey II, at the center of the painting, Dreamer’s Journey. In this is the chalice of woman, the ember of creativity.It is empathy and courage at the core of self, both feminine and masculine sides in balance.

The Reincarnation of Oryx 11” x 8.5” graphite on paper 1989

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At right is Mother’s Song To Her Sons. She is singing– “Come hhome Ssoon.”

Appendix

Parasystole/ par’a sis’ taly:1. beside, at, near, alongside systole2. beyond systoleMeaning number 2 is used in this book.

Systole: The moment during the heartbeat at which the ventricles contract, creating the maximum pressure on the blood vessels.

Systolic: During blood pressure tests, this is the type of measure at the moment at which the heartbeat is first heard after the guage is released, allowing the first blood cells to begin moving through the constricted vessel while other blood cells bang against the walls of the vessel at the moment of each ventricular contraction.

Parasystole can have several meanings. In this case it is defined upon meaning number 2.It is a metaphor for the answer to “Life Out of Balance”, a Hopi phrase used to visually describe modern American society, in a film called, Koyaanisqatsi: Life Out of Balance, from 1982. Its root ‘systole’ is the collective result of our society’s linear direction and its iner-tia, based on subsequent steps made during intense pressure and societal anguish. At these times the steps of ‘advancement and prog-ress’ are made according to a mono-dimensional logic following the same order and fitting within the same structure which produced, for the few, greater power and control, steeped in verisimilitude and still grossly out of balance.

However, at times these steps are made according to the unstructured, multi-dimensional thoughts of people in a rebellious act. The action bursts through the veils of compliance, and questions the dominant order of society, thereby instigating necessary change._________________________________________________________

Inspirations

My soul Family and soul Group who helped me receive and re-examine the blessing, the images and meanings in these journeys.

My earth family, who put up with me while I found and held these meanings... and for their patience when I dived into them again in the Spring of 2013 in order to share these blessings. My sister Carol, for waking me up to remember the aliens in our yard

Rhombi, Ra-An-Tu, Hannuktu, Makkar and all of the seven tribe’s members who came to greet me within these journeys.

“The secret of flying is love of the fall” —poet Frances Phillips

The Knowing Body: The Artist as Storyteller in Contemporary Performance —By Louise Steinman

Suzi Gablick, who wrote The Reinchantment of Art

My friend Carol, who read many of the original 13 chapters of the Rhombi Chronicles, for her encouragement during some of the hard-est years of my life.

My friend and spiritualist partner, Toby, with whom discovery of self and blessing of other were examined, dissected and healed in each of our lifes over the 13 years since we met, and who never once shunned the work of me.

D, for being a true teacher. For taking notice of the truth and holding his tongue until the time was right to speak it.

Se, for the hard lessons. For his patience. For his tenderness when he let it be.

Je, for his uncanny way of letting me know I am not alone, and this is supposed to be fun. For being there, no matter what.

Ga, for everything, but especially for yoga in the hospital.

Syn, for his consistency during training, even though I kept forgetting to call him “Synergy”

St, for waiting calmly. For being calm, no matter what.

R.C., the ex-NASA scientist who trained me in the Russian “timed” techniques.

Kerry Cassidy and Bill Ryan, for pushing the envelope.

The angels, who tried so hard to help me, even though I was so angry.

Artist’sstatement

Inspired by journeys or lucid dreams of a culture long ago, or perhaps existing on another plane, through which symbolism and rituals spoke of their rele-vance in antiquity, I began to recognize my personal struggle with contem-porary culture — the feeling “out-of-sync” with this society’s symbolism and rituals. This experience was not unlike a dissection of all that I had done, or become, in the context of this society. This turning inward held also the quality of its polar opposite: bursting outward — a parasystolic experience of being at a point of questioning the validity of my ego intentions vs. the raw energy flowing through me, informing me.

It is the point at which both consciousness and soul knowledge must join with the language and story of the body, which reads the energy flow. I do not think it matters whether we are astrally traveling or walking down a street in our solid body, it is reading energetic information that the soul and the ego miss.

My art is the expression through cognizant allowance of soul-knowledge, body knowledge and a higher awareness to include information from All-That-Is, to flow through me onto canvas, paper, film or other materials. It is also the intent and work of my soul, soul family and potentially other souls, having knowledge of this group of tribes. Finally, it is the resistance to editing of the parts of this work that my ego does not understand. My ego has accepted that these works are also for others — speaking to them on their own level of being — and can not possibly know what these art works mean for them.

I am often enlightened by this. The very act of drawing and painting, and lis-tening to others as they experience these works, is the allowance of this flow of information simultaneously outward and inward. The fact that I learn so much more after a painting is finished, and then, oftentimes years later, being shown by another an image representing that knowledge within these brush strokes is testament to this process.

Artreference

Sister Warriors 40

Sister Warriors Soul Notes 41

Ghost of the Ring Dance Studies 42

Parisystole (Heartrest) Amongst Burials 43

Race With Animus 44

Race With Animus Soul Notes 45

Arc of Animus 46

Arc of Animuss Soul Notes 47

Ancient Red Tree 48

Leaped 49

Raising the Pearl 50

Raising the Pearl Soul Notes 51

Torso Interiors 52

Torso Interiors Soul Notes 53

Fleshing Out the Bones Between Moons 54

Gate 55

Eye of Throat 56

Dreamer’s Journey 58-59

Dreamer’s Journey Soul Notes 60-61

The Reincarnation of Oryx 62

Mother’s Song to her Daughters and Sons 63

Detail of There You Are...Waiting For A Sign Back Cover

Detail of Dreamer’s Journey Front Cover

To Dance 10

Seated Woman 11

Stillness of the Seer 15

Transformation Diptych 21

Soul Family/Group Notes 22

Transformation Soul Notes 22

Makkar (Fish Spirit) 24

Rhombi Meets Fish Spirit 25

Elder With Rhot-Huran (Prophecy) 26

Woman With Fish Spirit 27

Stillness of the Seer 28

Rhombi Trail 29

There You Are...Waiting For A Sign 30

Testing the Spirits 31

There You Are...Waiting For A Sign Soul Notes 32

Sacred Geometry 33

Map of Parasystole 34

Map of Parasystole Soul Notes 35

Sacred Tears 36

Sacred Tears Soul Notes 37

The Harvest 38

Wound 39

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