WELCOME TO RUNNING NAKED IN A STATE OF GRACE | Going To Try & Explain the Unexplainable...Here We Go
1997 | At 47 I escape being trafficked to Costa Rica to inaugurate a very exclusive members only "niche"
JonBenét/mature woman market by someone I had just begun to date in Albuquerque, Kirk, but trusted as he was an old friend of a sibling.
We did not know he was a member of a depraved cult, like "John of God" depraved, "Daddy likes to watch" depraved.
There was sophisticated programming, Project Monarch AND Delta, a "Killing Eve" Honeypot...how did I know how to handle the recoil from a .44 Magnum? Shoot Skeet like Madonna's Ex Guy Ritchie, blasting each puck from the portable clay pigeon thrower set-up in the Nagual desert...To "obey" to the degree of sitting in a locked car, in the garage, during a hot New Mexico Summer, for hours?
What Kirk & the cult did not know...What I didn't know, was that we'd been joined by a formidable entity, my protector, from another dimension, another time...another me...
There are still huge gaps of just nothing while they were prepping my multi-faceted sex-kitten marionette strings...did they know the strings had been already officially...ritually, set in place over 67 years ago by the head of The Knights of Malta and Operation Paperclip at our place in Sands Point, NY? Could any of us have known that the switch for two volunteers from my "Pack of Four" had been turned on by a higher power and they were bringing their best game?
Five, exquisitely dressed as a tiny Geisha - Halloween night, year my younger brother had been found dead in the Spring I'm delivered to 
one of the larger estates and escorted into a massive dimly lit office overlooking the Long Island Sound, Halloween's Full Blue Moon watching, a man who looked exactly like Groucho Marx sitting, waiting, behind the huge antique desk...
We sized each other up for quite a while, or it seemed like it, my beloved Jamaican chauffeur Cecil clearing his throat as though waiting for a sign...
"Groucho" must have seen something in my eyes lit by Grandmother Moon; Cecil drove me home and I was given a hot chocolate...
At the core of my trying explain the unexplainable is that in 2008, ten years after my Albuquerque adventure, a very advanced Harvard educated Medicine Man, we'll call him EF, had me informed that it was important for me to Manifest The Sage - the entity referenced above - once again...Apparently working with Evil is one of Sage's tested skills...Hence the request, as it is EF's position that we have entered times of a serious nature.
She is not having it so far...has her own bat-shit drama going on...You, the visitor, will be part of the alchemy to bring her back for whatever the destiny thing is.
I invite you to join me in this improbable journey... to test the bounds of quantum theory like the movie
"Everything Everywhere All At Once"...Because if MY story is real, then YOU TOO have a pack watching your back: What I'm trying to put together here at Running Naked is an uncharted map to help us nuke our pedestals so we get access to our THREATCON DELTA portals. Sounds crazy, but surely by now we can agree the truth IS stranger than fiction: A few treasures on our map...
EMDR light therapy to reach trauma stuck in the right hemisphere;
Bob Monroe and his Gateway Process, tested by the CIA, can with time launch you into the higher dimensions, and illustrate that you are not alone but head of a pack of five that came in together...
Parmenides of Elea, and Peter Kingsley - Whom I believe is a current manifestation of Parmenides as I am for Sage - the pre-Socratic master of dying before you die, complimenting Monroe's method.
A LITTLE BACKGROUND | "Night of JonBenét" | Turns Out To Be Last Night in Albuquerque
Kirk had excitably launched my JonBenét Alter, which turned into such a disaster for him, first when JonBenét refused to give his friend "blow-job"...the trigger word... then secondly escaping the condo by Running Naked in a State of Grace before Kirk was able to sodomize her, his "Daddy Likes to Watch" triumph...Sage tight in with her...
"RUN!" she yells in our ear, "RUN!!"
as they up-gear my 47 year-old-body to sprint down the hill to across the busy six-lane expressway stark-naked and barefoot dodging the crazy drivers rushing home to their evening fix, an astonished Kirk now watching the show from his hill-top deck...
AND they bring back the teenage wrestler witness "John", ensuring Sarah's survival from the Cult's ultimate punishment, hunted at the DuPont lodge in Taos. Anneke Lucas in her video below only choaks up when talking about this.
First thing next morning I was put on a plane home in terrible condition, cuts and bruises from Night of JonBenét, but carrying the pony stool I'd sat on, placed there by "Daddy" Kirk, wearing my lace dress, pouring mug after mug of drugged water over my head, my hand rising on its own, Sage trying to save me from becoming complacent in preparation for sodomy..."BAD GIRL!" he'd yell.
Kirk was rushing my crazy ass back home, Kirk now being a frightened, unsuccessful kidnapper...ex-programmer handler cult member...sweating bricks...What would I remember and share back home, when I'd been prepped for Costa Rica?
I am still drugged and ragged pieces of the programming humming. Put in the public nut house with no blood test being taken as family believes Kirk's story I'd had a psychotic breakdown. At least I got to host Murtagh and know how to handle feral dogs if living on the streets.
AFTER ABOUT A MONTH my passport and drivers license arrive in the mail, initially held by Kirk for the "transport" to Costa Rica; With this irrevocable proof of their
plan, was able to wean myself off the nasty antipsychotic Depakote meds, tell my freaked-out family what had really happened, finally put together "The Police Report" over a weekend holed up at the rustic Inn of Saratoga...and begin to ponder the photos I'd taken, to de-code the mysterious notes, in the little journal I'd taken,
the
shocking memories...
"Angry Daddy" Kirk ordering JonBenét "clean out your butt good with a sponge roller to get ready for "Daddy"...you know how he likes it."
Kirk ordering "JonBenét" to lift her legs over her head when brought to the sofa...little girl voice saying "Daddy have to go potty"...then my, our, Running In A State Of Grace to escape certain sodomy.
Have no recollection of being programmed...the being put into a trace state, nada; just the "water" from the frig with something from the freezer added - Three times Sage had JonBenét pour the mug/drug over her head - and something in a pipe...Angel Dust?
My family would never speak about it again; They had followed the advice of someone of envy, who got pleasure from the situation...who escalated it...Chained to a gurney and rolled out of site...
TIMELINE |
1997 | Visiting Albuquerque from California where two fierce past-life entities - Sage & Murtagh - dimension jump in/out of my psyche during extreme triage;
2000 | Home in California in a near suicidal state take a deep dive into John Bradshaw's Inner Child videos;
2008 | Home in California
Brilliant over-sexed twin teenage sisters in Montana on their father's massive cattle ranch begin a correspondence after being obsessed fans of my ex pirate site "Unleashing the Wench", leading them to ask their Harvard-educated Medicine Man/Shaman friend, as a favor, could he help identify the mysterious Native American Indian women "Scout" from my 1998 events?
They spent the night inside a circle he drew around them all...he smoked a pipe stuffed with something from his pouch...at one point during the night he says 
"She dances with the handsome man in the moonlight on a big silver ship"...then back into his private reverie...
Advised Lady of Guadalupe was my protector, that "Scout" was "The Sage",
and to prove that what he was saying about Sage was true, that he knew about my Mother & her Captain, when Princess Diana was with them during the day trip she took in 1987 on "Uncle" Captain
Lawrence's ship the QEII. Hull was black, but running deep, to the Shaman, from above on a moonlit night, it presented as silver.
2018 | Settle in New Mexico only to find out that my new home is ON THE STREET where Coronado massacred Sage's TIWA descendants with the diabolical help of Aztec mercenaries, but seeking GOLD rather than the bone-marrow of the Ancestral Pueblo culture where Sage's descendants are fighting THAT battle; The Twin Sisters & Shaman cease all communication.
2023 | Go public after 25 years, realizing Robert Monroe's empirical reincarnation testimony as the only possible narrative construct after watching Outlanders and "Everything Everywhere All At Once"
SHOWTIME | Sage Calibrates From Riding Shotgun to Driver's Seat...From Audience to Director to Star
I'd done something odd while getting dressed to be introduced to GuruSan at "The Meeting"; He has a giant winding 
dragon tattoo sunning on his arm, the spooky right-hand trainer/enforcer wearing a beast of a Sikhism white turban above her undulating eyebrows and cruel eyes...Oh Holy Shit.
After about 1/2 hour sent to the car for over 2 hours while Kirk confers with them as I'd managed to introduce some chaos during their assessment of my "suitability" as a rare "fetish" ca$$h cow in Costa Rica.
I was supposed to be under Kirk's tight control, via programming, MK-Ultra, in retrospect...but I had secretly slipped on a pair of La Perla silky thigh-highs under my Cavalli jeans prior to taking off to the meeting...he had no idea; it was not protocol for sure...he was in charge of how I "presented"...until now.
BOOM something had commandeered my Psyche's Port 80 in order to put those stockings on, reclaiming back 
enough of the programing so I could operate - we could operate - with enough sovereignty through what I believe is the "switch" of the Claustrum...the Grace Portal...to circumvent the programming, to grok to some degree what's going on around Us and to Us, a witnesses to a degree when not being programmed...what a dangerous tool hypnosis is.
So Kirk comes looking for me after being in the bathroom too long, walks into a Fellini film, a silent Sarah draped over the huge ornate tub like a wayward temple priestess sporting expensive thigh-highs and nothing else, arms out like a cross...THAT level of chaos...brilliant...
The Sage had entered the stage with the panache of a Molière.
NEXT MORNING I type up a bat-shit blow-by-blow journal of the event on my Mac, so freaky-do it almost makes me cry every
time I read it. Hmmm as I write this I'm recalling that every so often he'd hand me a pipe to smoke or glass of "water" that may have had PCP, Angel Dust etc. in it, HAD to with the three-ring circus my mind had
become...
Still parsing my behavior between the programing, his drugs, audio hallucinations like John Huston and Danny DeVito discussing Monroe and Bardot, only using horse terms, and the Sage channeling/reincarnation events.
I've untangled the web to a degree, but boy would I like to hog-tie these people and jam-in a loaded needle of sodium pentothal while twisting their naughty bits till I hear them squealing like a pen of pigs, ready to reveal all that their programming still denies me. Hear Kirk on the phone a number of times with GuruSan that next morning trying to not execute "Plan B". Ominous.
SHE'S WITH ME when finding the large pelvic bone on the banks of the Rio Grande, surrounded by toddler-high tipi mounds, smoke hole at the pinnacles, frantic with activity...I maneuver the little ant town like an expected guest to retrieve my party favor, cradling the bone like a child.
I take it to Kirk who is quietly talking with his ex-police friend Jason by the car and ask if he will let me take it home to his condo; As I am walking away I hear him say "She fucking found it"...The ability to track must be one of my advertised skills;
SHE'S WITH ME the day after, when I'm apparently alone in the house, sporting an exquisite vintage pareo, freshly tanned, a massive amethyst necklace draped around my neck 
for a little modesty, and my new JonBenét hair...ready for Saint Tropez, or rather, Costa Rica uniform for the fetish-crazed pseudo-pedo high rollers?
I cross the comfort of the air conditioning into the hot like Hades small high-walled patio with the gravitas of Maria Callas, slowly dancing barefoot, immune to the steaming sharp white rocks after abandoning the small cement pad, Bone my attentive audience as I am rapping sarcastically like an angry Auntie about Indian males' love of the hootch, throwing in a few staccato stumbles to emulate a drunk;
First time I'd heard the ancient TIWA dialect from my lips...she is badass...there are probably hidden cameras for the "marketing"
SHE'S WITH ME Night of JonBenét...on the pony stool, on the couch, in the bathroom, when sprinting across six-lane Tramway Running Naked in a State of Grace to avoid being sodomized by "Daddy"...in the garden of Odin & Wolf - the garden was crowded...
Odin, howling in old Germanic his Rune Song..."Hung I was on the windswept tree; Nine full nights I hung, Pierced by a spear, a pledge to the god, To Odin, myself to myself, On that tree which none can know the source"... Sarah & JonBenét, Wolf (you heard me), Sage and the poor homeowner...
Then when running across Comanche to the teenager "John" who saved me from being hunted (Plan B) at the DuPont compound called
"Ramana" in Taos, next to Geraldine's Hill.
There was a locked gate at the entrance to the upper meadow...I made note of the combo lock when we visited to be debriefed what to do during the weekend by Marguerite, the caretaker, who also wore the big white turban as the scary lady at Gurusan's. Kirk volunteered our taking care of the compound; the lock combo is in the Police Report; Rumor was the neighbor carried a gun and hated the DuPonts.
This is where I was to be hunted as I was deemed too "independent" to work the Costa Rica Elite Brothel scene. Apex predators are in a class of their own.
SHE'S WITH ME when I returned home, pacing back-and-forth in the sisal carpeted great room, off the charts drama describing the end of times if mankind did not evolve in her guttural dialect freaking the hell out those witnessing this...
I thought it was a great speech...it was the trigger to take me to the mental ward...no insurance so not 5-star.
SHE'S WITH ME in the pitch black lock-up room with the plastic-covered bed, psych ward, Santa Clara Valley County hospital; We did yoga-like moves that I've never be able to replicate
that were like taking a tranquilizer...this was her goodbye, her last appearance, though her superior digestive system kept my immune system humming till discharge... due to an autoimmune condition, perhaps the old trauma, I have a health issue that went away while Sage was with me, and the balance of my incarceration.
Under the Sage page is an incredible video on cannibalism in the Four Corners...One of her incarnations...what she was perhaps dealing with but "jumped" to help me.
MURTAGH SWITCHES WITH SAGE & TAKES OVER
Murtagh BOOM Appears While Being Handcuffed to Gurney - Then After the Holding Cell with Sage, When Finally Locked-up With My Nut Mates
Sudden friggin genius routine rat-tat-tatts from my mouth, a Scottish Robin Williams shocking everyone with a gorgeous brogue as the huge steel doors begin to swing open then BOOM my incarceration begins; next afternoon, after a lunch where we learn how to handle feral dogs on the street;
After lunch, Murtagh/Sarah starts a new routine to heat-up a ping-pong game between two of the more colorful of our fellow inmates, so funny the West African male attendants gather round me and start betting pulling out their wallets waving dollar bills and yelling encouragement to their favorite...very Jack in "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest"...Remember cash still in our pockets and no smart phone then?
After that I was coddled and especially protected by them till my discharge day five...did I share no blood test was taken? Blessed they picked up slack as Murtagh had returned to his life duties by the time I was being molested by one of the doctors, my attendant cursing the "shameful man" under his breath as he wheeled me back, handcuffed to the wheelchair...One of the attendants had quietly said to me "you don't belong here".
If you watched Starz's "Outlander", very similar to their Murtagh...Guess the whole gestalt is Outlanderish...it was like he was on "standby" for when Sage had to depart...here, an invite to Murtagh's Pub.
I HAVE LEANED ON BOB MONROE, founder of the Monroe Institute and The Gateway Process as his Institute's work empirically indicates we come in as pack of five past-life volunteers melding into an I/Us, with one volunteering to be the Front Man, so to speak...Turns into a Cosmic Rodeo in my particular case, Einstein's "Spooky Actions at a Distance" enabling two very unique, extraordinary past entities flickering in, perhaps through the "Grace Portal"...
The portrait of brave martyr Saint Barbara shows her four very different fellow lives giving her strength.
That the CIA secretly investigated his Gateway process to try and access the Matrix...that they did...and just his life work in general, shines some legitimacy on this mind-bending quantum chock-full of non-locality shit-show...
I've got Wave I for you try, working with Bob himself; To get in the game you've got to have some control over your brain waves...The Hum & Drum of daily life keeps us in a very low vibration.
2000 Dove deep into John Bradshaw's "Reclaiming Your Inner Toddler" videos to head-off possibly programmed self-destruct "suicidal thoughts" - programing which can feature "hanging"; Experienced the final stage where there is a very heavy scar tissue crushing chest, doctors & meds useless;
Working with Bradshaw's videos it took about two weeks for the glacier-like mass to slowly break apart and melt, little longer for my Inner Toddler to believe. Maybe this sounds ridiculous...All I know is that it saved my life.
BTW Anthony Bourdain...did not hang himself, he was not playing autoerotic games, he was managed by "hanging" - via the bathrobe belt - as he had seen things in certain locales...He would not have allowed his hung face or naked body paraded by the media...very rare, nude suicides, very rare.
No, our Tony would have his dealer's finest "horse", a beautiful note to his daughter Adriane, and head to his favorite spot...I will say he was entranced by a real Hecate, so there's that.
I'll let Professor Hamamoto share a few of this thoughts on the matter. Both Bourdain and Michael Hutchence were Freemasons...Both were close to disclosure...both were taken care of...Celebrities & Their God
Those that are part of the Davos Managing Board know exactly how it went down for a number of famous people, even a Rothschild, "Less than two hours later the maid 
returned to room 402 to make Amschel Rothschild's bed. When she knocked and received no answer she let herself in to find his fully-clothed body in the bathroom, his dressing gown belt fastened around his neck and tied to the towel rail." Ah, the infamous robe belt for the spontaneous "suicide".
Besides being Angels of Death and "anything you want" partying at the AlpenGold hotel, the Davos crowd is busy making sure everything touching us is toxic; Have you bought your new cookware yet?