On April 4, 2009, I was minding my own business driving my car in the back roads of Mt. Shasta, taking a break after a day of consultations. I had just left Olympia, Washington under the gaze of the extraordinary vista of Mt. Rainer, and had stopped at Yreka to spend the night. I had decided to work for a day before going on to the Sacramento area where I was returning. I had just spent three months supporting my daughter as she recovered from a weakened condition while continuing at school.
The last thing on my mind was anything but mystical. Lily, my dog, and I were so far away from anyone on that back road that curved in and out of views of Mt. Shasta. As I rounded a curve, the base of Mt. Shasta began to come into view, and abruptly I heard them. As if a radio station had suddenly come on with several stations bleeding through at once, voices poured into my head. “Bring 13 people here on April 4, 2010.” “You need to be here for 5 days.” “1B34” (I later found out that is the scientific name for a structural component of a protein). Maps were coming into view in my head; locations flashing in my mind.

I stopped the car. I couldn’t drive with the bevy of sounds, sights, and feelings that were solidifying in my mind, my heart, my body. I knew that at least some of the beings I saw above me in the sky were related to the being who had previously visited me; one who had spoken with me through my mind in 1993 in Virginia. I had always wondered if they would contact me again. And here they were with OTHERS. I was so startled by the meeting that I could barely take it in. Usually, I get some warning that I am entering a dimensional gateway; that I would be participating in an event that goes beyond the locale of our everyday existence. This was out of blue, fast, and intense.
I was fascinated by seeing them in the sky. They were trails of bluish white tracings that if I try to focus, even now in my memory, would fade into the warm spring sky. They appeared more solid when they were voicing. It wasn’t as if they spoke, they voiced. As they voiced, they illuminated.

As the reoccurring echoes of instructions continued, there was no sense of that it ever occurred to them that I would decline. Bellowing across the sky, pounding my more than resistant mind, a landscape of request began to occur. Beings representing a connection with the higher realms of existence were contacting me, but not just me… these higher realms that had once participated with human being in creation are contacting many people right now.

There have been times throughout history when these events occurred often and with high intent. Read the Old Testament if you don’t believe me! I call myself the Reluctant Prophet. Imagine having to suddenly explain to people that a host of heavenly beings are expecting them to show up at a certain date and “would they come?” You can see that the belief factor would weigh heavily. Also, for many humans, we do not get how important we are, how much we matter to the rest of reality. Some humans either think reality is between our ears or between New York Avenue and Go on the Monopoly® board. The Idea that We, Humans, actually matter in the scheme of things, is radical at best, and downright silly to the more “levelheaded.” But there I was, day interrupted, listening to more information than I could comprehend, in the presence of what draws people to Mt. Shasta and the amazingly Beings that come through the portals there.

That there is more information than I can understand is now no longer true. Since April 4th, an amazing synergy between others and me has begun to occur. Unpredictable connections and understandings are beginning to presence this meeting request in more and more of a congruent manner, and the landscape of co-creation is beginning to be more and more available. This is the short version.

Regarding all of this, I have set up a conference call for those who have asked to come and for people that are interested. I know that more than thirteen will be coming to this undertaking. I know that we don’t know who the thirteen are, and that everyone who knows to come can come. Then we will meet the criteria set forth by the Beings and be a collective group of people interested in the connection that will exist there. I know it is monumental, and what it is about cannot be written effectively. If you would like to hear more, Please join us in a free call.

The call will be November 16, 2009, 5pm Pacific Time. The following will be addressed:
1. What are these Beings asking of us and providing for us?
2. Why it is called The Mimzy Project and why that is significant?
3. Details on what coming to Mt. Shasta will entail.

Please call 1-916-983-3221 to register or metapointsreality@yahoo.com

A Moment of Unity

Shivering hands, shaking body, alive with the energy of unity! I have walked out on the porch from a blessed meditation wide and deeply laced by a half hour of heartfelt soul-pulsing sharing.
I feel so alive, energetically languaged by the aliveness of energies coming into me…so many forms and textures, though somewhat disturbed by a shallower mindless reluctant tapping.
Dealing with the semi-irritation of the disconnectedness of the “working man”, I slide my mind into the charmingly incessant beeping of the chickens.. a beep quack mix of persistent furrowing for food. The sonar interaction of the cackling chicken with the plunk of the earth’s response caught me in the rhythm of food no, food yes, food no, food yes… chicken earth tapping so different from human tapping.
As the chickens moved into a surprising silence and time stood still, I wondered why, only to be drawn into a sudden tensing as sounds like gunshots pounded against the skin of my sensitive soul.
The foreign life threatening sounds of possible gunshots interrupted the calm of the rustling leaves and the hesitant soft chirping of the birds who had found their way to this rustic elegant simple farm home whose broad porch built around trees I was sitting on. Perhaps the birds were concerned the thud explosive sounds are gunshots too.
The earth has such peace in its transition. The scalding summer sun is mutated by the shifting relationship with the earth. As the soft brightness falls across my arm crossing my crimson dress with green leaves, I feel like a human floor, part of the deck and the while rocker, all of us striped in light and shadow by a molten ball millions and millions and millions of miles away.
How do I speak the language of unity, the pulse of creation that brings the unitive eye to the points of connection….metapoints?
The thick grey double tree with mottled pathways of lush moss traveling up its bark until the moss covers the branches showered me with soft weathered leaves, the last of the life force flowing through my subtle energy bodies before coming to rest on the white arm of the rocker, the pillow I rest my hand upon and the crevice of my neck that is in unity with the dress that rests upon it. I have been leaved!
As if in response, the wind, my primal force ally, sweeps my skirt up and the leaves off onto the floor. Are the leaves and wind, I wonder, in a magical dance, playfully vying for my attention? The unitive state deepens. The sun is warmer on my arm as the wind takes a breather from its shenanigans. I feel the unitive energetic information, an organic conversation you might say. I pay attention. The non-thought sentience of unity informs my cells, restores my vital force, so this body can get what it needs to end the interruption of illness it has had to bear.
I, a willing participant, join in gratefully knowing that the ways of the wind, the sun, the earth, and the trees has sorted out life long before I came along. To let my body know how much I relish complete vitality I bring my imagination to the single grey seated swing below me hanging from the ever so tall double tree. How did they ever get it hung from so high? Rubber wrapped around the tree protecting the bark from the chain held the weight of my imaginary venture to sit in the swing. In my dimensional shift from the porch to the swing, I looked up at the nice white rope I clasped getting ready for me swing. The white rope stopped shortly above my head wrapped by sturdy weathered rope that probably belonged to the original swing. I tucked my long calf length dress between my thighs and hiked up the cloth so I have full use of my legs and I push off gently letting the metapoint of myself, the swing, the air, and the ground move in oneness. Gradually I shift back to the white rocker on the porch, my body appreciative of my imaginative message to it. I look down. The swing was slightly moving in response to the activity of life around it and perhaps even to the imaginary being that sat for a moment in its seat. I suppose in the eternity of existence I am still in that swing. I suck in my breath, smiling in the knowing that in the oneness lies the wholeness and the completeness of life.
I have moved the rocker back into the shade now. Here comes the wind again. Leaves are raining down on me. The sun caresses my foot thanking me for not taking on more than I need. All of our vital forces are laughing now. We will not forget.