THE MISSION ACROSS THE U.S.
Part 14: An Urgent Call From Our Native Ancestors!
July 31, 2013
Now that we are getting to the end of this series of articles, I began to put pieces of the trip together. This missive has quite a bit of history included in it to reveal how divinely lead this mission truly was. I am still amazed!
We would be leaving our new found "home" today and I slept restlessly because of it. I did not however think the final call would come in so emphatically. It jolted me out of my slumber and I hopped out of bed knowing something major was in store for us today.
The messages came flooding in as we packed the car and walked the dogs in preparation for another long day on the road. We had planned to go straight up the 270 North to the 70 through Arkansas and eventually hit the 40 west but a diversionary command was relayed to the contrary. We were directed to go north-west immediately and against our wishes, leave Arkansas sooner rather than later. We felt a bit "incomplete" since we knew there was something else that needed to be addressed in another location in the state, but that would have to be shelved for another mission, due to the urgency of the messages at hand.
There was a literal "distress call" transmitted from an American Indian Chief somewhere northwest, and I can tell you he was anxiously awaiting our arrival. The prompting was so intense that I felt panicky, a desperate urge to reach our final destination, which of course we wouldn't know the location until Spirit directed us appropriately. We were after all on a "need to know basis" once again.
We wanted to make sure we revisited the property that Pam saw the 3 temples on from the days of Atlantis. We swung by there first, did a small ceremony focusing on the land, our vision, and our future project, and then locked it in with our "keys". It was another very touching moment, as we felt the Beings of Light participating in the experience.
We had such a strong affinity for this piece of property. As we looked up, we felt the communication of our ship, as this interestingly shaped lonely cloud hovered above us. It was truly another magical day!
We knew this must be a huge clearing, as we began to experience difficulty breathing shortly after the "call", feeling pressure in our solar plexus' and third eye, and receiving incessant communications from Guidance. Instantaneous bleed-throughs of activities from other timelines began playing in front of me like someone watching a movie. I was immediately taken back to the Civil War period, watching a group of soldiers, about 7 or 8 of them, on horseback causing a ruckus wherever they went.
The lead guy was about 75-100 pounds overweight with a ruddy complexion, a reddish-brownish beard, short hair balding at the top and greenish eyes. They prided themselves in being the infamous "rebel-rousers", causing panic everywhere they traveled. In fact, Spirit was showing me that wherever they went a "red alert" would go out throughout the surrounding area, warning of their arrival. They had become so paranoid that they killed many unjustifiably because they suspected their disloyalty to the South and the Lost Cause. Because of this lead man, I was shown another vision of 5 men hung erroneously for being traitors.
They would arrive in town, stirring up a frenzy amongst the townspeople, instigating a frenzy of fear and "the call" was put out for someone to pay for all the pain and loss going on at that time.
After quite a bit of research I found and confirmed that James Ingram (Ingraham) was who I saw. He was described as "the leader of a notorious band of bushwhackers infesting Benton and Washington counties in Arkansas", commanding this company of desperadoes who murdered and plundered Union men indiscriminately. He and his Confederate guerrillas became notorious for horrific ambushes and murders to the point where "numerous detachments of loyal Arkansas troops were sent after Ingraham, but he always evaded them. At one time or another, Ingraham kept almost an entire Union calvary regiment clanking around over the mountains in search of him.
The Federals wore out their horses in fruitless chases but Ingraham and his band seemed to have an endless supply of fresh, swift mounts."
"Bushwhackers could be either unionists or rebels, but the Union army gave them official status as a type of illegitimate Confederate guerrilla. Little more than a year into the war, the unionists found themselves stymied in many parts of the South, including Arkansas, by the ferocious resistance of guerrilla fighters. While recognizing the right of a belligerent to use uniformed partisans for scouting purposes, the Union army condemned the broad range of brigands, freebooters, marauders, robbers, and war-rebels that had associated themselves with the Confederate cause. The lowest of all such insurgents was the bushwhacker, whom the Federals dismissed contemptuously as "an armed prowler". Thus, the name came to embrace any type of skullduggery. For instance, a Union general accused "bushwhackers" of cutting telegraph lines between Fort Smith (Sebastian County) and Fayetteville (Washington County) in 1863. In retaliation, he ordered one bushwhacker hanged from the nearest telegraph pole of every cut wire... Among the best known Confederate bushwhackers in Arkansas were James M. Ingram (or Ingraham)..."
I then realized that we were literally clearing the stuck overwhelming grief, panic, and atrocities that hovered over this area, but it was regarding more than just the deaths of the soldiers of The Civil War as I initially thought. We could now connect the darkness we were clearing as multi-timelined. Through more investigation, I was saddened to find the immense amount of senseless massacres and lynching that occurred throughout this region was initiated because of one man's decision. In June of 1862, a general named Thomas Hindman unfortunately authorized the formation of partisan bands to harass Union forces in Arkansas.
They didn't need any qualifications or a moral compass and in fact, this single decision fed a proliferation of degenerates and lawless bands of bushwhackers into the "business" of murdering, terrorizing, and stealing indiscriminately. It was also the precursor to the beginning formation of the Ku Klux Klan. Here is another account of how bad these "bushwacker bands" were:
"The street patrols robbed all houses systematically. At the gate to each residence two or three men waited on their horses. Others dismounted, strode up the walk, spurs jingling, and knocked. If, the door was opened by a man he was shot down, if by a woman, she was ordered to deliver all money, watches, and jewelry in the house. Then the dwelling was set on fire. Any man who appeared from the smoke was killed. The women stood with their children, helpless and horror-struck. An occasional heroine ran recklessly to her spouse only to feel him killed in her arms.
Through it all no woman was harmed - for the bushwackers adhered to a code. As the houses burned, women were allowed to salvage rugs, curtains, prized furniture and keepsakes. Occasionally a man escaped from his house by hiding under a carpet as it was carried out. Others saved themselves by crouching under their wives' hoop skirts."
Now you may wonder why I am adding this into my story. Well, to reflect upon our travels over the last month and the constant interweaving of The Trail of Tears, The Civil War Trail, and the Slave Trade and Lynchings as part of our landmarks on this mission, it became very apparent that we were cleaning up multiple horrors. You can imagine how excited I was to read such detailed accounts that lined up so well with a "message" I had received from Spirit. As I dug further, I was amazed how there is still such a deeply rooted obsession for Americans with the Civil War. In fact one article stated that preconceived notions of the people demonstrated "how poisonous and polarized memory of the past could become," often abetted by willful ignorance of such historical truth as we know.
Finally, it is astonishing that so many white Southerners are still "fighting their war by other means," living in a misremembered past, nursing old grudges both real and imagined. For those folks, the words of a black basket weaver at the Market in Charleston can serve as epigraph for this fine book. "They can remember that war all they want," she said. "So long's they remember they lost." Such deeply entrenched wounds had to be cleared in order for this country and this planet to move forward on the ascension path. We were pleased to know that we were vibrationally dispelling the deep and ardent anger that consumed this part of America for a multitude of races.
The American Indian chief began to directly communicate with me once again, clearly revealing himself with a weary, saddened face as a single tear fell down his right cheek. He continued to tell me he was awaiting our arrival and that his people were "ready to return home." By this time we had arrived in Wister, OK and could feel the tug on our sorrowful hearts building. Whoever we were meeting, it was apparent that this was a massively needed clearing and activation. More visions flooded my third eye with scenes of people running for their lives, being chased off their land and literally hunted down like animals I am sorry to say. The Chief stood there with a feather straight up on the back of his head, dark brown skinned, sad and hollow-eyed as he watched the scene with me.
His people feared for their lives and rightfully so. They endured atrocious deaths, visions of men riddled with bullets, mothers savagely raped then killed, and children scalped. The government affiliated soldiers didn't even keep the children alive because they thought of them as diseased. Tears poured down my face onto my shirt as I attempted to make sense of such bludgeonry. The Chief had remained in spirit, waiting for us so he could clear the memory of all of his kinsmen and family that had been desecrated in this area. Steven picked up speed while I blankly looked out the window, transmuting the immense pain that came through me.
As we traveled down the 40 west, past Henryetta, another message came in. A huge sign stating "FREE WILL" flew by us, reminding us that this was the core of our mission and activation. We had seen another sign back in Mt. Joy, AR with the same announcement in front of an old 1040's church and it gratefully snapped me back into my courageous, fearless self. I have to admit the sadness was overwhelming and I was still processing it. To consider a civil war that brought about battles amongst neighbors, families and states, they actually termed The Civil War as the War To Make Men Free. What hypocrisy!
As we neared our final destination, we continually saw many signs and statues honoring The Cherokee and the buffalo. Immediately, I got downloaded with another vision of buffalo and horses being slaughtered and it hit my solar plexus so badly, I thought I was going to get ill. We were literally clearing one battle and skirmish right after another as we continued west through this blood-shed memory infested battleground. A sign popped into my sight entitled the General Tom Stafford Space Museum, and I was once again reminded by Spirit that we will soar to new heights through this new activation.
I decided to google his background, and found that Stafford was cited in the Guinness Book of World Records for the highest speed ever attained by man during reentry (whether I believed he actually landed on the moon or not). It was another nudge that we would invoke positive change for this planet at a meteoric rate, locking a new timeline in place once and for all. This gave me some solace.
More signs of the Heartland of America revealed themselves, as Steve and I nodded to one another in intuitive acknowledgement that we were about to clear America's broken heart once and for all. I once again began to sob, knowing that the release was as much a part through me as it was with me. Messages flooded me again with realizations of the multitude of wars and conflict that consumed this part of the United States. In fact a professor was quoted as stating that "nowhere was America's Civil War more intense or its impact more severe than in Indian Territory, present-day Oklahoma. Every able-bodied male in the area fought either with the Confederacy or the United States, and many fought with both. Death and destruction prevailed for four years." LeRoy H.Fischer Professor of History Emeritus at OSU.
I thought it was heart-wrenching in Arkansas only to find Oklahoma was excruciating. I would venture to say that most of us don't realize that The Indian Territory occupied most of present day Oklahoma state. This territory was actually slated for the relocation of Native Americans, who originally consisted of the following tribes: the Plains Apache, the Caddo, the Comanche, the Kiowa, the Osage, and the Wichita. It is said that their communities were thriving with new built roads, ferries and river steamers connecting Oklahoma towns, both the east and south.
Newly created governments and constitutions were boasted by the Tribal leaders. Numerous American Indian tribes began arriving who had withstood the desolate and brutal trek of The Trail of Tears. They included the following relocated clans: The Arapaho tribe, The Cayuga tribe, The Cherokee tribe, The Cheyenne tribe, The Chickasaw tribe, The Choctaw tribe, The Creek tribe, The Delaware tribe, The Ioway tribe, The Kaw tribe, The Kickapoo tribe, The Miami/Peoria tribe, The Missouria-Otoe tribe, The Modoc tribe, The Ottawa tribe, The Pawnee tribe, The Ponca tribe, The Potawatomi tribe, The Quapaw tribe, The Sac and Fox tribe, The Seneca tribe, The Shawnee tribe, The Wyandotte tribe, The Tonkawa tribe, and finally The Yuchi tribe.
I list them all here for each of you to honor and remember, for "native" also means "belonging to a person by birth" or "of a father". America's meaning is even more poignant, that of "home ruler." Our ancestors, our true "rulers" of this place we call home, are the Native Americans... and this bleak time in history was the catalyst for herding them all to a territory plagued with tragedy and suffering due to no protection from the aggressive Plain Indians and Confederates.
As I continued to dig deeper, I was absolutely stunned to find that some of these same Indian tribes who withstood their own enslavement kept black slaves themselves to run their farms. Many yielded to the pressure and demands of giving away their divine birthright to the White Man, their land, in exchange for guns and other "much needed supplies".
Finally, we arrived in Weatherford, on the west side of Oklahoma City. We were literally steered like a rudder to this out of the ordinary location off exit 82. We went up Route 66 north through a weathered old town (guess this may be why they call it Weatherford huh?) only to find ourselves driving through barren lands with mammoth wind turbines whirling in the hot sun. It was an odd tableau, and the vibe was even more unearthly, as the silence was penetrated by a repetitive whoosh-whoosh-whoosh. It was as if we weren't even a part of the surroundings, only driving "through it" if that makes any sense.
As we continued motoring away from the freeway, the road turned to gravel and the butterflies in my stomach started a culminating wave of convulsions. The heat in my root chakra was cranked up as we drove onto junction 54 north. The wind turbines continued to cadence in movement and sound, as we zig-zagged from E1010 over to 1000E/W, and then onto the 2370 north. Spasms began to erupt in my 2nd chakra. The tremendous pain and suffering was beyond my composure, as I called out to Steve that this was it! We slammed on the brakes, parked the car and dogs safely under one lonely crooked tree, and jumped out of the car immediately. There was barbed wire to get past and the deliberate ignoring of a no trespassing sign, but we knew the ships were directly above us and all was protected. This was just too huge to even think twice about hesitating. The barbed fencing was old and rusted and not very pliable so we both rolled on our backs underneath to gain access to the meeting place on the other side. I could see our afflicted Chief anxious but patiently waiting and he nodded as we set up our crystals, grid, and ceremony, calling in all of our Guidance for this grand finale. We both knew this was just as significant as the other portal and stargate openings we had performed, but more comprehensive...
I continued to telepathically apologize for all of humanity, for the numerous atrocities that had been inflicted on his people. He said very little, floating up and off to my left as if to put out the call and hold the space with us. We had definitely been called to open this stargate for all of these downtrodden souls so they could once and for all return home. We couldn't believe the burst of Light and individual souls stepping into the gate, soaring into the heavens. I continued to send the Chief my unceasing love and respect and once he felt certain that his people were free, the release was immense.
I have no idea how many entered (but we have confirmed it was around 5200 souls of about 15 different tribes who returned home) but the ceremony went on for quite some time. Steve and I were spinning a counterclockwise vortex without knowing what the other was doing and simultaneously switched directions, knowing it was now complete. We held one another heart to heart sobbing and ecstatic all at the same time, knowing that these souls had finally returned home. A truck drove by right at that moment, slowing to ogle our embrace behind the trespassing sign and we knew we were done. It was time to go!
As we drove away, a large turtle dawdled across the road and I immediately looked up its meaning in Ted Andrews' Animal Speaks book. The omen was an "imitation for all blessings of heaven and earth - motherhood, longevity, awakening, and longevity." Very cool! Steve looked down and was caught off guard that we were very low on gas and needed to find a gas station as soon as possible. It was in the middle of no where so we put out the request and shortly thereafter we found service station and with relief stopped for a fill-up.
The only problem was the bank had blocked our card due to "too much out of the ordinary use" and we sat at the station for about 45 minutes before we could even gain access to our account. We managed to contact them 15 minutes before they closed for the weekend I might add... a lovely way to tie up the day huh?
We made tracks to Amarillo as our next infamous Motel 6 destination. We were all tired and so longing for some rest. It had been an amazing day but also an emotionally draining one as well. There was so much to process and so much to be grateful for. We received a message later that we assisted the following tribes return home: Cherokees, Cheyennes, Arapahos, Caugas, Chickasaws, Delawares, Kaws, Kickapoos, Miami Peorias, Modocs, Portwatomis, Senecas, Tonkawas, Choctaws, Creeks, Ioways, Missouria Otoes, Ottawas, Ponas, Quapaws, Sac and Foxes, Shawnees, Wyandottes, Yuchis, and the Kiowas. It was a moment of reflective silence...