Chaze
Jedi
I may have one of the most unorthodox ways of discovering life altering information. And a lot of it has came to me in the least likely of places, in the most unexpected of times. My life has been one hell of an adventure up until this point, and everything that’s happened to me was leading and preparing me for what the future was holding.
Now I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea of me. But I will be completely upfront and honest with you. I didn’t grow up in the healthiest nor friendliest of environments. Broken home, poverty, violence, drugs, no father figure through adolescence, you name the stereotype and you can probably attribute it to my upbringing. As anyone who has lived this knows, this is just a recipe for disaster.
I wasn’t always an honest person. I didn’t have positive influences in my life growing up, and I’ve done some really terrible things. I was emulating who and what I was around.. In other words, I was merely a product of my environment.
And because I oh so ignorantly carried out these life choices that came attached to sufferable repercussions, in turn refusing to align with my immutable self, (that I wasn’t anywhere near aware of at this point, because I was pretty good at ignoring those “gut” feelings) this led me on a collision course with incarceration.
And thankfully it did. Because little did I know… I was headed to school.
I’ve always been an avid reader. And even at this point, I had an incredible fascination with history and politics. More specifically South American politics, but only because I was tantalized by the numerous revolutionary movements that had taken place there. I wanted to be like some of these revolutionaries. I wanted to go back into the world and make a difference. Defy oppression and exploitation. Free my people from the invisible chains of classism. And with me being behind bars, I had NOTHING BUT TIME to think, contemplate, and get some reading in on how to accomplish this. (I was going to be the iconoclast.. My idealism seeing no boundaries..)
So here I was. Burning through more political science, history, and biography books than the Library of Alexandria. I spent the first 4-5 months staying in this particular department of learning. I was determined to discover the “right” methodology of doing politics, and when I got out, I was gonna go out into the world and become a revolutionary.
Yeah, here comes the reality check..
A few more months in, and the more I studied, the more I realized that there wasn’t any specific political structure nor ideology that was suitable for everyone. The world was too diverse, with so many differing levels and modalities of socio-economic problems and tyranny and oppression that there wasn’t a “one size fits all” solution to these problems in the political arena. I was frustrated. I felt like I had been wasting my time. And if I had been, then what’s the purpose of all of this? How could I make a difference? What the hell am I here to do?
It was almost lockdown. I was standing at my bunk, holding the dictionary. Frustrated and desperate, I closed my eyes and began to pray. I asked to be shown a sign, something, ANYTHING to let me know why I was here, what’s the meaning of life, and what I was supposed to be doing.. And as I opened my eyes, I also opened up that dictionary. The first word I saw was KNOWLEDGE.
Chills. From head to toe. Head.. Vibrating. Felt like a child trying to hold on to a jackhammer. Overcome with this overwhelming sensation, racing through my thoughts trying to figure out what this meant, one of my buddies from in there walked up and interrupted me. “Hey, I think you should read this. Just don’t get caught with it.” It was a book by Zacharia Sitchin, “The Twelfth Planet”. (They were real tight on what we could and couldn’t read)
Now mind you, in this era of my life, I have no idea who Laura is or the fact that she even exists. Know nothing about her work, know even less about the subjects she covers, and I was so enamored in a materialistic and narrow point of view of the world, that I wasn’t ready for what I was about to read. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the famous saying by the C’s: “knowledge protects..” Well this was my introduction into some “higher” learning.
Aliens. Okay, so we’re all slaves to some aliens. They “created” us. I’m already having a hard enough time dealing with being locked up, but now you wanna tell me that I’m a slave to some ALIENS?! Now I’m on the phone talking to my peoples—probably sounding like a lunatic—and practically begging for every book ever written by this man to be sent to me. And they were. And I read all of them.
For the remainder of my time on the inside, this was what I was focused on. I needed answers. I needed to know that this man was crazy, and I was crazy for even thinking this was a possibility. But the more I read, the more I HAD to know what was really going on.
In February of 2014, I was released. A free man again, with wider eyes opened, and an unwavering determination to figure out what was going on. Now I can access the worldwide web again, and get my hands on some more information. Bill Cooper, John Lear, William Bramley, Dr. David Jacobs, Karla Turner… The web kept spinning, and I kept getting caught up in it more and more. I wasn’t sleeping, I couldn’t think about anything other than this, yet I couldn’t make any sense of it either… The more I read, the more questions I asked.
This continued on for quite some time, up until the point that I was ready to give up on it. I was driving myself mad, and honestly, I was scared. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Forget all that, I’m gonna drop it and go back to being a “normal” person who doesn’t concern themselves with such trivial things.
Nu uh. Nope. Something else had something entirely different in store for me.
I used to use this website called Issuu where I could find books online. I was looking for something else to put my focus into, and try and break out of my “delusions”. And as I was scrolling, looking for something of a completely different nature, serendipity did what serendipity does and I saw this book. “High Strangeness”. Here went that weird tingling sensation all over again, the same one I felt after my prayer while incarcerated. I didn’t like where this was going, but I took it as a sign… So I clicked on it.
If I thought reading all the previous works on this subject was mind shattering, then there isn’t a word, a phrase in the English language to describe to you what was happening to me as I read this book. You can’t even put it into syntax. I felt like I was mentally and emotionally breaking, with memories of my past—strange, anomalous, to outright paranormal—that I had buried so deeply into my subconscious suddenly resurfacing and FORCING me to acknowledge that these things had happened to me, and that I was led to this body of work for a reason.
I probably read some of those passages in there from the transcripts a hundred times, over and over and over again, sweating like I was wearing a bubble jacket in Nevada during summertime. But I had to know more. Who was this lady, how could she produce something that invoked something so strongly in me that I couldn’t focus on hardly anything else other than the information she was bringing to light?
Back online I go. Search, search, search… I need every book I can get from this woman. So here comes “The Wave” series. And there goes my idea of ever being “normal” again.
Eventually, as time passed and more life lessons were to be learned, the stars decided to line up for me and inevitably lead me to here. Which is more than what I needed, because I was driving myself crazy out here in the real world trying to find someone I could discuss these things with, much less relate to anyone about. I honestly thought I was mostly alone in my little world, and I was having so intense of a paradigm shift that I couldn’t see that something had been slightly nudging me out of my false reality, and into the scope of what simply is.
All from a little prayer I said, asking to be shown a sign about what’s really going on and why am I here while ironically being imprisoned. But now I could see the real prison. And I also understood that maybe I could still be that idealistic, iconoclastic revolutionary that I so passionately desired to be… But in a different way. I could be someone who challenges others to think. Challenge others to question. Challenge others to be something more than they formerly thought they could ever be.
And although that’s still taking a shot in the dark, it’s simply a part of my innate nature. I’ve always been rebellious, but now I have a reason to be. A real reason. And not so I can impose my views/current understandings (nor anyone else’s) on to others, but so I can challenge those around me to consider rethinking their own ideas of self and reality, question their own existence on this floating rock, what they’re truly capable of, and then build themselves up upon that foundation. To me, THAT’S revolutionary.
Either way, I’m thankful for that epoch of my life. It’s taken me exactly to where I needed to go. It led me to Laura, her work, all of the work shared on here, and it’s honestly altered my life for the best. So much chaos led me to so much more order, and gave me life again.
Some of us have to find the light in the darkest of places.
Now I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea of me. But I will be completely upfront and honest with you. I didn’t grow up in the healthiest nor friendliest of environments. Broken home, poverty, violence, drugs, no father figure through adolescence, you name the stereotype and you can probably attribute it to my upbringing. As anyone who has lived this knows, this is just a recipe for disaster.
I wasn’t always an honest person. I didn’t have positive influences in my life growing up, and I’ve done some really terrible things. I was emulating who and what I was around.. In other words, I was merely a product of my environment.
And because I oh so ignorantly carried out these life choices that came attached to sufferable repercussions, in turn refusing to align with my immutable self, (that I wasn’t anywhere near aware of at this point, because I was pretty good at ignoring those “gut” feelings) this led me on a collision course with incarceration.
And thankfully it did. Because little did I know… I was headed to school.
I’ve always been an avid reader. And even at this point, I had an incredible fascination with history and politics. More specifically South American politics, but only because I was tantalized by the numerous revolutionary movements that had taken place there. I wanted to be like some of these revolutionaries. I wanted to go back into the world and make a difference. Defy oppression and exploitation. Free my people from the invisible chains of classism. And with me being behind bars, I had NOTHING BUT TIME to think, contemplate, and get some reading in on how to accomplish this. (I was going to be the iconoclast.. My idealism seeing no boundaries..)
So here I was. Burning through more political science, history, and biography books than the Library of Alexandria. I spent the first 4-5 months staying in this particular department of learning. I was determined to discover the “right” methodology of doing politics, and when I got out, I was gonna go out into the world and become a revolutionary.
Yeah, here comes the reality check..
A few more months in, and the more I studied, the more I realized that there wasn’t any specific political structure nor ideology that was suitable for everyone. The world was too diverse, with so many differing levels and modalities of socio-economic problems and tyranny and oppression that there wasn’t a “one size fits all” solution to these problems in the political arena. I was frustrated. I felt like I had been wasting my time. And if I had been, then what’s the purpose of all of this? How could I make a difference? What the hell am I here to do?
It was almost lockdown. I was standing at my bunk, holding the dictionary. Frustrated and desperate, I closed my eyes and began to pray. I asked to be shown a sign, something, ANYTHING to let me know why I was here, what’s the meaning of life, and what I was supposed to be doing.. And as I opened my eyes, I also opened up that dictionary. The first word I saw was KNOWLEDGE.
Chills. From head to toe. Head.. Vibrating. Felt like a child trying to hold on to a jackhammer. Overcome with this overwhelming sensation, racing through my thoughts trying to figure out what this meant, one of my buddies from in there walked up and interrupted me. “Hey, I think you should read this. Just don’t get caught with it.” It was a book by Zacharia Sitchin, “The Twelfth Planet”. (They were real tight on what we could and couldn’t read)
Now mind you, in this era of my life, I have no idea who Laura is or the fact that she even exists. Know nothing about her work, know even less about the subjects she covers, and I was so enamored in a materialistic and narrow point of view of the world, that I wasn’t ready for what I was about to read. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the famous saying by the C’s: “knowledge protects..” Well this was my introduction into some “higher” learning.
Aliens. Okay, so we’re all slaves to some aliens. They “created” us. I’m already having a hard enough time dealing with being locked up, but now you wanna tell me that I’m a slave to some ALIENS?! Now I’m on the phone talking to my peoples—probably sounding like a lunatic—and practically begging for every book ever written by this man to be sent to me. And they were. And I read all of them.
For the remainder of my time on the inside, this was what I was focused on. I needed answers. I needed to know that this man was crazy, and I was crazy for even thinking this was a possibility. But the more I read, the more I HAD to know what was really going on.
In February of 2014, I was released. A free man again, with wider eyes opened, and an unwavering determination to figure out what was going on. Now I can access the worldwide web again, and get my hands on some more information. Bill Cooper, John Lear, William Bramley, Dr. David Jacobs, Karla Turner… The web kept spinning, and I kept getting caught up in it more and more. I wasn’t sleeping, I couldn’t think about anything other than this, yet I couldn’t make any sense of it either… The more I read, the more questions I asked.
This continued on for quite some time, up until the point that I was ready to give up on it. I was driving myself mad, and honestly, I was scared. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. Forget all that, I’m gonna drop it and go back to being a “normal” person who doesn’t concern themselves with such trivial things.
Nu uh. Nope. Something else had something entirely different in store for me.
I used to use this website called Issuu where I could find books online. I was looking for something else to put my focus into, and try and break out of my “delusions”. And as I was scrolling, looking for something of a completely different nature, serendipity did what serendipity does and I saw this book. “High Strangeness”. Here went that weird tingling sensation all over again, the same one I felt after my prayer while incarcerated. I didn’t like where this was going, but I took it as a sign… So I clicked on it.
If I thought reading all the previous works on this subject was mind shattering, then there isn’t a word, a phrase in the English language to describe to you what was happening to me as I read this book. You can’t even put it into syntax. I felt like I was mentally and emotionally breaking, with memories of my past—strange, anomalous, to outright paranormal—that I had buried so deeply into my subconscious suddenly resurfacing and FORCING me to acknowledge that these things had happened to me, and that I was led to this body of work for a reason.
I probably read some of those passages in there from the transcripts a hundred times, over and over and over again, sweating like I was wearing a bubble jacket in Nevada during summertime. But I had to know more. Who was this lady, how could she produce something that invoked something so strongly in me that I couldn’t focus on hardly anything else other than the information she was bringing to light?
Back online I go. Search, search, search… I need every book I can get from this woman. So here comes “The Wave” series. And there goes my idea of ever being “normal” again.
Eventually, as time passed and more life lessons were to be learned, the stars decided to line up for me and inevitably lead me to here. Which is more than what I needed, because I was driving myself crazy out here in the real world trying to find someone I could discuss these things with, much less relate to anyone about. I honestly thought I was mostly alone in my little world, and I was having so intense of a paradigm shift that I couldn’t see that something had been slightly nudging me out of my false reality, and into the scope of what simply is.
All from a little prayer I said, asking to be shown a sign about what’s really going on and why am I here while ironically being imprisoned. But now I could see the real prison. And I also understood that maybe I could still be that idealistic, iconoclastic revolutionary that I so passionately desired to be… But in a different way. I could be someone who challenges others to think. Challenge others to question. Challenge others to be something more than they formerly thought they could ever be.
And although that’s still taking a shot in the dark, it’s simply a part of my innate nature. I’ve always been rebellious, but now I have a reason to be. A real reason. And not so I can impose my views/current understandings (nor anyone else’s) on to others, but so I can challenge those around me to consider rethinking their own ideas of self and reality, question their own existence on this floating rock, what they’re truly capable of, and then build themselves up upon that foundation. To me, THAT’S revolutionary.
Either way, I’m thankful for that epoch of my life. It’s taken me exactly to where I needed to go. It led me to Laura, her work, all of the work shared on here, and it’s honestly altered my life for the best. So much chaos led me to so much more order, and gave me life again.
Some of us have to find the light in the darkest of places.
