RattleSnake Fire: a memoir of extra-dimensional experience “...points us to encouraging possibilities... of expanded cosmic consciousness ....” -- Ralph Metzner, Ph.D., Psychologist and Professor Emeritus, California Institute of Integral Studies, author of Green Psychology and Foreword to RattleSnake Fire
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Excerpts below from Foreword, Preface and chapters: From the Foreword by Ralph Metzner: Within the multiple layers of American society, and under the radar of mainstream media, there are shifting secret alliances among and between covert governmental, corporate, military and criminal gangs with partially overlapping conspiracies and agendas – but all concerned with enhancing the wealth and power of their particular “special interest” groups. It is significant that Jean Eisenhower’s journey through the murky, paranormal shadowlands begins when she, the idealistic young former minister’s wife, is working as a media activist for a radical environmental group advocating for sustainable forestry, a group which is being violently attacked and simultaneously framed by rogue law enforcement entities allied with timber industry interests. She finds herself under surveillance and subject to weird and terrifying altered states with obvious hostile intent, that challenge her idealism, her worldview, her religious convictions and ultimately her sanity. In her ten-year odyssey through the psychic undergrounds she encounters experiential evidence of the secret government mind-control experiments known as PSY-OPS and MK-ULTRA, even while trying to come to terms with memory flashbacks to childhood sexual abuse. ...But beyond the crumbling edifice of the modern worldview and its associated domination and exploitation politics, lie possibilities of expanded cosmic consciousness and a renewal of ancient ways of living in harmony with nature and our fellow humans. This book points us to these encouraging possibilities. From the Preface: “Extra-dimensional” refers to the conjunction of our world with non-physical or other dimensional realms, including: ~ those understood by many as the “spiritual realms,” inhabited by God, angels, demons, ghosts, etc., ~ those realms understood by ancient cultures and people of New Age persuasion, realms inhabited by animal spirit helpers, divas, faeries, elementals, archetypal beings, and others, ~ the realms from which beings called “aliens” and “ETs” visit our physical realm in craft called UFOs, and ~ possibly the realms of “black budget” operators, who some say are more technologically advanced than they let most of us know. Survival, for any living being, requires that its perceptions of its environment be clear. In every culture until the present few hundred years, especially in highly “educated” cultures scorning “superstition,” humans have always been aware of and conversant with other realms. I believe we in the “First World” need to regain some formerly inherent perceptions and wisdom that we’ve been trained not to acknowledge - or, if we have acknowledged them, we’ve often been met with ridicule, so that our opinions and information are often not heard. We’re on the cusp of an opportunity beyond survival - to evolve and be welcomed into an extra-dimensional new world. Some welcome and some fear a Brave New World. Whether we become micro-chipped citizens or creative spirits of the “heavens,” I believe, is up to us. But we can only make that choice in wisdom if we see clearly what our choices are. From Chapter One: Black Budget Psy Ops? Oakland, California, May 2002. I slept on a futon on the floor beside a baby grand piano in the living room of a couple I didn’t completely trust. Trust was a difficult thing in those years and still is to some degree. I’d been asked to do media work for an historic federal trial. The FBI and Oakland Police, after twelve years of legal ploys to keep it out of the courts, were finally being tried on charges related to, but not including, the car-bomb assassination attempt on the life of an environmental activist colleague of mine. One night, during the first week of the trial, having just fallen asleep, I woke and lifted myself off the futon in confusion - my entire body seemed encased in a cocoon of vibration. I imagined a government van with electronic equipment across the street, aiming a powerful beam of some sort toward me. This idea did not come to me out of the blue. Years earlier, I’d read in the daily paper - and laughed along with everyone else - that Evan Mecham, then governor of Arizona, had accused the FBI of using a beam “to mess with my mind.” I’d seen the movies, along with the rest in our culture, of government-employed electronics geeks in vans keeping surveillance. I’d read about higher-tech dirty tricks, I’d had my home bugged for holding Earth First! potluck meetings open to the public, and I’d experienced this non-violent activist colleague subject to an assassination attempt by someone the FBI refused, in twelve years, to investigate. For a moment I was terrified. Then, I relaxed with the idea that this was not strange, but familiar, and even comforting. Oh, this… I said to myself, in happy anticipation, and lay back down to slip into oblivion. On awakening the next morning, I wondered why I’d thought it familiar or comforting, and concluded, with no small amount of dread, it was probably government psy ops. “Psychological operations” was a major part of COINTELPRO, code for Counter Intelligence Operations, an FBI project, begun in the 1910s to crush the early labor movement with spies, lies, disruption, disinformation and even contract murders. It had been called to the attention of Congress in the 1970s and, for being contrary to our public right to protest, was supposed to have been shut down, but most historians of activism believe it was only moved to the underground. Psychological games, most activists felt, continued to play a role in driving away supporters, and I assumed higher-tech work was still being done and I’d been a target of some new wizardry. From Chapter Two: Vibrations Return I was shocked alert by a laser-like light that seemed to hit me between the eyebrows - so bright, I saw it through my closed eyelids. Wanting an assuring explanation, I scrambled for one, and thought, Lightning? But I’d sensed being hit directly between the eyebrows, and memory had it coming at a precise angle, not through the sliding glass door, where I might convince myself it had been lightning, but through the eaves and wall above and to the left of the door. My memory was also clear that it had been circular, about a pencil’s width, with a precise, not fuzzy, perimeter. Like a laser. Suddenly, I realized I was immobilized, which filled me with utter terror. I tried to pray for protection, but my speech center, including the part of my brain that creates silent speech, was mostly incapacitated. I was able to drag the name Jeeeeeeee-----zzzzzzzuhz through my brain, but my mind seemed frozen and unable to remember the name of any other helping spirit I had, which added to my fear. I could accept my body immobilized - but my mind?! From Chapter Eleven: Breakdown It was distressing to find myself listening to someone, wondering what I was supposed to do with my eyes, whether I’d looked at them too long and maybe it was time to look away - But for how many seconds? What was normal? Then I’d recognize the other person’s nervousness, obviously wondering why I stared at them and looked away with timing that was all wrong. Then, of course, I’d lose track of what they were saying, and couldn’t respond appropriately. Over time I came to understand this was a necessary step to healing: Before we can accept new patterns, old ones must fall away. But the falling away of such basic skills was private, painful torture. From Chapter Twelve: Visions of Self Amazed, I stood up to see how I might feel different. Standing still, to sense the subtleties, I realized I felt the same, but I perceived the world new. Slowly, I walked toward the kitchen, and saw everything seemed to have not only greater depth and dimension, but life. Even the old kitchen cabinets resonated - just as I’d theorized years ago - but suddenly I could see it. Everything was deeper, more colorful, more alive! I loved the world! And years later I’d often say, “Nervous breakdowns! I highly recommend them!” From Chapter Twenty-eight: Heart & Home I began to experience my heart as “congested” - the best word I could find - and for a month I described the varying sensations as resembling a brick in my chest, or a half-brick, or a sliver of a brick, et cetera. My Naturopath asked me about stress in my life, and I was not happy to hear myself begin to tell her about, not only the child abuse, but also MKULTRA. I wished I could leave it behind and not risk people thinking me strange. When I told her, she was sympathetic to the child abuse, but unfamiliar with MKULTRA, which didn’t surprise me. I knew fully well that I took a chance being thought crazy or a conspiracy nut every time I told anyone about these issues in my life, so I tell very few. But I continued, as it felt important to educate this doctor. After she asked questions and listened to my answers for about a half hour, she finally listened to my heart. Registering disturbance on her face, she took off her stethoscope, listened again, and finally asked if I heard music. When I said no, she listened to my heart for a second time, then repeated some of the former behaviors with an increased look of distress. “Maybe it’s my implant, picking up a radio station,” I offered, making light of what I thought a real possibility. If there was one put in my nose and another in my vagina, another one in my heart didn’t seem much of a stretch. She looked at me seriously, but made no comment. Not mentioning the music again, but seeming to listen in a distracting environment, she said she could hear a swishy valve and referred me to a cardiologist. I didn’t feel like pressuring her, so never asked if the swishy sound was heard with music. Over the next few days, I wondered if whoever, aliens or government, might have put an implant in me might have overheard our discussion and whether they would, or had already, made an electronic correction in their implant, so that a cardiologist would never hear any music. I’d never know, since the cardiologist was scheduled for many months out, and I’d soon effect my own shamanic cure. From the Afterword: Mack noted in Passport to the Cosmos that researchers Norman S. Don and Gilda Moura reported in the Journal of Scientific Exploration that “when an abduction is being relived or remembered, a frontal-lobe hyperarousal pattern is found by electroencephalogram (EEG) similar to that seen only in advanced spiritual meditators.” Obviously something unusual is going on, beyond anyone’s imagination or fantasy, which warrants our respectful attention. Since contactees speak passionately of Spirit and responsibility, it behooves us not to dismiss them in favor of debunking and corporate hypnotism. Opening our eyes to another world is difficult, I know because I stayed blind to parts of it, at least, for most of my life. Even after I thought I was aware, I continued to think it was a meaningless coincidence that I’d had ET contact and was also harassed by elements within the government, I thought, for being an environmental activist. It seemed unfortunate and embarrassing because both were ridiculed (contact called impossible and government harassment paranoid), so I kept both mostly to myself and was thereby effectively silenced. Rob Brezsny writes in Pronoia: the Antidote to Paranoia, This is a perfect moment…because you and I are waking up from our sleepwalking, thumb-sucking, dumb-clucking collusion with the masters of illusion and destruction. Thanks to them, from whom the painful blessings flow, we are waking up…. As heaven and earth come together, as the dreamtime and daytime merge, we register the shockingly exhilarating fact that we are in charge of creating a brand new world…. As we stand on this brink, as we dance on this verge, we can’t let the ruling fools of the dying world sustain their curses. We have to rise up and fight their insane logic; defy, resist, and prevent their tragic magic; unleash our sacred rage and supercharge it…. In the new world we’re gestating, we need to be suffused with lusty compassion and ecstatic duty, ingenious love and insurrectionary beauty. ~
A shamanic initiation through America’s dark underground
and into the multi-dimensional cosmos