Some of you have heard this opening story before, but it relates to what follows, so bear with me.
The first time I met the Zetas (benign aliens), I was dying. I was 7 years old and lying face down on the bottom of the Atlantic ocean at Daytona Beach where a powerful wave had pushed my little body. Saltwater and sand roared in my ears and up my nose and down my throat. It was quite noisy and my lungs were filling up fast.
Suddenly, a stern voice filled my head. Stand up! You're drowning! It was compelling and I seemed to automatically comply. I remember feeling no fear, just a sense of interest and wonder. Drowning is a relatively painless death. I coughed and sputtered, but got over it. Life intervened and it was eventually forgotten.
Decades later I discovered where the voice came from. I was reading Zetatalk when that same voice asked if I wanted The Lift. I recognized it as the same voice and knew beyond a doubt that it had been the Zetas who had saved my life.
Days ago, on Thanksgiving, I was drowning again, this time my lungs were filled with fluid from pneumonia. I couldn't breathe. If lungs were a freeway system, mine were Los Angeles during rush hour traffic in a torrential downpour. Impossibly congested. Snap, crackle, pop. I couldn't sleep from the noise and the compulsion to cough without ceasing. Death appeared knock-knock-knocking on Heaven's door (think Bob Dylan here).
I'm permanently disabled with Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome (CFIDS) and when my immune system "dysfuncts" I can get rip roaringly ill. Usually, not this bad though, but I am getting older.
A day earlier, my doctor wanted me to go to the E.R. immediately, via ambulance, directly from his office. I have no health insurance and suggested a more cost-effective route by trying meds first. He reluctantly, and with a stern, disapproving scowl, waved the scripts he had just written under my nose and exhorted me in no uncertain terms: "Listen, young lady, I'm a hardened, 75-year-old physician who doesn't scare easily but you are scaring the bejeebers out of me, as usual." (Hey, living with CFIDS for 24 years, I'm a bit hardened to the prospects of death, okay?)
So, my marching orders were that if, in the next 24 hours, I became worse or did not improve I was to go to the E.R. immediately by ambulance. I was percolating like a Maxwell House coffee pot. I thanked him for his concern, but I wasn't scared...but his reaction started my concern barometer to rise. Just a little.
Anyway, at 24 hours, there was a change and it seemed for the better, but at 30 hours, I couldn't breathe. Not hesitating to throw in the towel though, since it was my life at stake after all, I immediately headed out for the E.R. 25 miles away. (Well, I did take time to grab a handful of cookies, I mean, after all, if I have to go, I'm going with my boots on and fully armed!)
I took the short cut to the hospital, what is locally known as the pig path, and took further short cuts by taking 25 mph curves at 45 all the way, nearly running off the road only once.
As I flew around those dark curves on Thanksgiving evening, g-forces making my stomach try to exit my body horizontally, I saw Daytona Beach flash before my eyes and the connection was instantly made. I wondered, in a detached kind of way, if tonight was going to be the night.
They saved me then. Would they save me now? Or was it just time to move on to my next assignment? Interesting questions, I thought, speculating how it might turn out. Just like Daytona Beach, I felt no fear, just a mild interest in how it would all evolve.
Because of what I experienced, it opened my eyes to the fact that the survival of this ning is in the hands of one very fallible person. Since I'm committed to the survival of this ning and because of these recent events, I've decided that I need to make an "advanced directive" of sorts to ensure continuity in case something happens to me (and this could easily be earthchanges knocking out my local internet rather than my early demise). This ning needs to continue beyond me for the sake of humanity looking for answers in their final desperate moments while the internet is still up.
Over time, I believe a good level of trust has developed among Shadow, DesertRose, KarenLee, and me. I find them to be honorable and sensitive people, who care deeply about their fellow man and who have the sensibilities and abilities that will serve this ning well. KarenLee, unfortunately, has too many commitments at present to take on any additional responsibilities. Shadow is considering it, depending on some things. At present, DesertRose has graciously accepted my offer to become co-owner of this ning. She will continue to act in her capacity as moderator (as will Shadow) unless something happens to me, at which time, DesertRose (and Shadow, if he chooses to) will become co-owners of this ning and keep it running for as long as they can.
As for me, I will continue here in the same capacity as always, still the sole owner of this ning until the condition subsequent as described happens. If and when that occurs, I ask that you respect them as you would me and show them the same courtesy and cooperation.
My hope is that we can take this ning to higher levels and be a beacon, a light in dark places where few other lights will shine, to paraphrase Lady Galadriel in LOTR.
So, did the Zetas heal me? Yes, I believe they did. Because of the lack of insurance, I was sent home from the E.R. after getting a steroid IV, antibiotics, and a breathing treatment; and with prescriptions for steroids and antibiotics that I couldn't afford to buy. (I'm on a disability pension and Medicare doesn't start for me, because of all the fine technicalities built into our Social Security system, for another year.) The treatments pumped me up, but without the follow-up treatments I was starting to sink again.
And so it was, early on Monday morning, I had a vision, an incredible vision. It was so beautiful, and simply beyond words to describe. I was on one of their ships, in a room I've been in before. But this time it was different. I was encompassed by a pale gold light, like early spring sunshine, and lights in different patterns and wavelengths* were surrounding me, going over me, through me. I felt the warmth and the healing energy. I started levitating and was floating in the middle of the room while what felt like pure love washed my body inside and out. It started to tickle and I started to giggle. I leaned back and let myself float. What an experience! I fell into a deep sleep and when I awoke, I started to get better from that point on.
*Different wavelengths mean different colors because each color has a different wavelength and frequency.
Just so you know, “my” Zetas are the healing Zetas. They are the smaller group but are good-hearted, service-to-others humanoid aliens here to, among other things, help other service-to-other beings survive the coming cataclysms, to teach the survivors how to help themselves in the aftertimes, as well as help with the coming transformation from third to fourth density. They want you to know that. And they want you to know that you can tell the difference between them and the others. Just trust your heart. You'll know.
In closing, because of the nature of this post and to whom this post is directed, i.e., to friends and family here at earthchanges.ning of good heart, not Nancy Lieder's spies here, any of her related entitities, GLP, Zetasquawk, nor the poleshift.ning.com Admin site for their amusement, pissing purposes, or fodder for another psychotic wave of defamation, permission is expressly NOT GRANTED to the aforementioned to repost or copy this blog or use it in any way, shape, or form, by electronic or any other means, in part or in its entirety, for better or for worse, until death do us part. Amen. To anyone else, permission is granted to repost as long as it is reposted in its entirety and you give a link to this page. Copyright (c) 2010-2015 Cheryl Nelson.
UPDATE 6/17/2012...
As you know, Shadow has departed, so he is no longer part of this contingency plan.
