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"The part we ignore…may contain the clue to the whole subject." ~ J. Allen Hynek

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Alien Grey as The Chariot

 

Among my many blogs, is Orange Orb Tarot. One of many hats I wear: tarot reader. I posted the following at my tarot blog a year or so ago:

 

Another area of passion and interest of mine,  (see my blog OrangeOrbTarot) aside from the UFO, paranormal realm, is the tarot. I was searching for various decks, since I collect them as most readers do. I have several tarot and oracle decks and came across this image from the Bifrost tarot deck.

This is a Major Arcana card — specifically, The Chariot — from theBifrost tarot deck. There is a distinctive alien grey ET figure, floating in outer space, giving the peace sign.

According to the deck’s creator, the meaning of this Major Arcana card The Chariot is:

The Chariot of the information age is the mind.  This is symbolized by both the flying saucer behind the Roswell alien’s eyes and the magic carpet at his seat.  The blood in his grail and the strand of DNA show that no matter where he travels, he will always find himself. [Tarotsmith.net/bifrostTarot]

The flying saucer is in the place of the third eye. The location is specific: Roswell.  The alien is peace loving, since he/she/it/gender neutral alien is flashing the peace sign. And, the ET is on a magic flying carpet, floating out there in the starry void.

What to make of this?

Assumptions that ET, as ‘the grey’ is a good vibe, well meaning, peaceful hippie alien. All is groovy and cosmic, flying around on the magic carpet.

Traditional, The Chariot, Waite-Coleman-Rider deck

Traditionally, The Chariot is depcited as having stars above (hence the alien I suppose) which represents the influences of the stars in this card. There is also the crescent moon. The wings have to do with Hinduism — the Bifrost tarot interprets this image using the third eye.

There are actually a few tarot decks that use aliens  as symbols. I don’t know how I feel about using a deck with this image, for myself, it seems too strange. In one sense, accessing memories of UFO encounters as a sort of tarot card reading, in order to make sense out of what happened, is useful. I try to do this for myself at times. But I don’t know about integrating both. However, it’s not a judgement. Each of us uses whatever decks feel right at the time. I’ve had decks that I’ve used before passing them on to others, decks I don’t use for readings but appreciate for other reasons, and so on.

It would be interesting to do a study on readers who have also had UFO experiences using decks with alien motifs. What would that conjure up?

Sea Poems

princess sea.jpg

 

Feeling my Pisces self today, so here are some watery poems, haiku and others, I’ve written over the years.

 


the jellyfish, soft

we talk about consciousness

white-pink minds floating


 

mermaid blue

my summer

streak


 

 

a green octopus

watches from its oblong tank

acute awareness

 


 

a mermaid tattoo

on the arm

why not


 

inside her belly

the blind fish

dance


 

jellyfish in transparent tubes

pink streams floating

are they conscious? she asks


 

Found Poem

I like playing around with the found poem structure, though I don’t stick to the “pure found poem” style, which doesn’t allow for any rearranging of text. Here’s a brief definition of a found poem from the  poets.org site:   

Found poems take existing texts and refashion them, reorder them, and present them as poems. The literary equivalent of a collage, found poetry is often made from newspaper articles, street signs, graffiti, speeches, letters, or even other poems.

 

Murder in the Blue Room

which harbor huge sea urchins

the worst is yet to come

found poem: t.v. guide, 1980s, l.a.


 

Flying Saucer Poetry

Saw  this link on UFO Updates on Facebook. From the Saucers That Time Forgot blog. People once upon a time did write flying saucer poetry! See, I’m not the only one.

 

 

 

Bubble Orbs and Dream Messages

August 15, 2019, Yachats, Oregon

As usual, looking up at the night sky for UFOs, — the daytime sky as well. Lots of UFO and Sasquatch activity on the Oregon coast and coastal range. But other than that, I wasn’t thinking of UFOs in particular. Hadn’t even been on-line because the wi fi is so iffy on the coast, and I  wasn’t reading any UFO books. (although I did have many with me, as well as notes on various UFO expereinces. My go to take along when I travel. Still, I hadn’t even looked at any of my notes or books.) The dream I had last night was just so damn intense. Interesting how the emotional  impact of a dream takes on such importance, no matter the subject or actions in the dream.

And, before this: I was having trouble sleeping. Not sure why. Mini migraines past two days and that’s unusual, I don’t get those on the coast. Had my sleep mask on. Felt something small get up on the bed; felt the pressure. It was definitely a small creature; it  kneaded the bed by my side a little and settled in.  At first I thought the movement  was from an earthquake. Or, that an animal had come through the open window, which of course makes no sense. (We were on the second floor.)  Then I got it: my cat had visited me. We left him at home and I was thinking of him, he hates it when we leave. Mango had sent me a ‘I miss you” message.

 

orbpixabay.com.jpg

UFO Music in a bubble

This dream was very intense. Throughout the dream was clear and strong message that I must remember this.

I’m standing in front of a large window. Black as black night sky. No stars. I hear music, but it’s not coming from where you’d think. Meaning, when we hear something, regardless of the kind of sound, it sounds. . . ‘normal’ it’s coming from somewhere. The sound might be odd, but the fact you can hear it isn’t. Hard to explain. But this sound, wasn’t in my head, and wasn’t from out there. It was from. . . another dimension. Inside a bubble  The best I can explain this is the sound I have heard in a few hauntings. Voices, EVPs, laughter, very clear, but not from . . . here. Not in my head, not from, say, the other room. But from another place. Another space. 

The music  I heard was classical, very nice. But not from here. Then white letters appear on this window, against the black sky. The dream itself is almost in black and white. Sentences  appear; “UFO. are REAL” and all kinds of other statements about the reality of UFOs. For emphasis some of the words get larger and move closer towards me. They — the aliens — are clearly communicating with me. And they want me to tell others. I can’t see these aliens, but their ship is clearly outlined in this dark sky. A very large ship. The words keep coming. The music is a part of ‘them’ — and it’s clear. Aliens (or at least these aliens) come from, not from outer space or within the earth but another dimension right next to us. All around us, all the time, they’re here, in bubbles — that’s how they travel. They’re aware of us and wish we could be aware of them. Some of us are. Most are not. 

And then, further information: these “bubbles” are related to the orange orb I saw, as well as other orbs. The message I received was: “These orbs (including your orange orb) are a part of this. We are UFOs. We are here. We are aware of you.”

Then theses aliens tell me I have to get the word out, and to help me,

I told my husband about the dream as we were driving back from the coast into Eugene. I mentioned that the emotional intensity, the importance of the dream, goes beyond the content. He said “It sounds more like a communication than a dream.” I agree. 

Sometimes dreams are “just” dreams. Other times, they are truly more than that; messages from the astral. From spirit. From . . . more. 

An added note: I love listening to the ocean while I’m going to sleep. Both nights we were on the coast, I tried very hard to ignore other sounds: my own snoring, my husband’s snoring, traffic from the highway, the occasional barking dog, people returning to their cabins. That night, I had finally succeeded in tuning out everything except the ocean roar, and had more than one “mind post card” — the brilliant silver tops of the waves jumping into my mind’s eye. It was intense, sudden and magnificant.

 

you can’t try for crazy

you can’t try for crazy

it just comes

natural like

and born of ….

well, you know:

drugs,

 trauma, 

loss,

 hurt, 

fear, 

sensitivity,

 psychosis, 

nightmares,

 poverty, 

perpetual poundings small and velvety soft

not being believed

finding yourself lost, without a map, a light, a sense of direction

feeling cold

pain —

that’s literal pain,

undiagnosed pain

told it’s all in your head pain

seeing the unseen, through the veil, within the fringe,

the shadows, the orbs and glows

hearing the voices not inside the head but

in the ether, up and to the left

that inside-an-empty-tin-can sound

crazy comes, stays, visits, stays awhile

sometimes it leaves

mostly, it stays

 

regan lee/4/2018/eugene, oregon

Green Warty Entities and Capes

Several years ago, I contributed to a blog: The C Influence. Sadly, it is no longer active. Many people contributed to the blog, Rick Phillips among them. Here’s something I wrote for one of my blogs at blogspot.com and cross posted by Phillips at The C Influence.

TCI has a bevy of great thinkers and writers – here I present Regan Lee with The Shaman’s Cape(Rick Phillips)
————————————————–

This was originally published on Binnall of America’s website on my bi-weekly Trickster’s Realm column on 12/26/05 and reposted on my Saucer Sightings blog, which is an archive of my own UFO sightings and encounters. The article has been edited for this post.
————————————

The Shaman’s Cape

About twelve years ago I was visiting friends who were house sitting for a mutual friend of ours. The home owner traveled to Mexico frequently on business; he owned a store in Oregon, and brought back folk art, books, and ceramics to sell in his store.


As I was wandering around the home looking at his extensive book collection, I noticed a large cape hanging on the wall. This cape was very unusual. It wasn’t made of any type of cloth, but seemed waxy and stiff, with little “horns” or large thick thorns protruding from it. The cape was a darkish lime green color. While the cape wasn’t made from any cloth like material and didn’t look like it’d be comfortable to wear — certainly not practical — it was obvious this was a cape indented to be worn.


I touched the cape,rubbing my fingers on its smooth surface, being careful of course to avoid those white yellowish stud things that were clearly sharp enough to really hurt if touched. I appreciated the cape for its history (whatever that may be, since I didn’t have a clue) and was drawn to it for some reason — I couldn’t stop running my hands down the cool smooth surface. Even while I was attracted to the cape, I felt uncomfortable around it at the same time; I didn’t like it. It was big and ugly, a sickish green color, and subconsciously, it annoyed me. It just seemed out of place.


I had planned on staying to visit with my friends but suddenly felt extremely tired. It was the middle of the afternoon and a beautiful day, but I had to get home — I was just so suddenly exhausted. Fortunately I didn’t live far, just a couple of miles. Yet riding my bike home on that beautiful day was so damn exhausting. I was losing focus; as if I were coming down with the flu yet I didn’t feel sick, as in ill, just … unexplainably tired.


As soon as I got home I headed right for the bed, flopping down and grateful to finally make it home. Almost immediately I began to leave my body; one of those OBE states that happen to me spontaneously and that I haven’t been able to control since I was a child. I wasn’t asleep, but not awake exactly, yet I was consciousness of the bedroom, the open window, the sun coming through the screen and other mundane things. At the same time I was paralyzed but felt myself rapidly leaving my body. I could hear the sound of whistles and flutes coming from a distance away, then getting closer. These musical sounds were not coming from outside (like a neighbors house or stereo) but from whatever place my astral body was going towards…


The next thing I knew I was in a deep sleep. I remember visions of chanting and signing, the flutes and whistles again, the cape draped around someone, a man. I couldn’t see his face. We were somewhere in the desert, or some rural country area. It was night and the stars were numerous and very close to the ground; I could touch them if I just reached out far enough. This was no dream; it was as real as this moment now, sitting here typing this. The memory of the desert ground; so hard, with dusty brown bits of soft dust, the coolish night air, the smells of earth and night, the music of flutes, bells, chanting. I was next to this man in a cape, his cape, face unseen, doing a jerky kind of wheeling, turning movement beneath the stars.


When I woke up, it was dark, and I felt as if I’d been poisoned. Not actually physically sick but I mean, I felt as if someone had given me some kind of sleeping pill or drugged me in some way. It took me a very long time to get back to reality. I felt sluggish and my tongue felt thick. This feeling lasted for a couple of days.


A day or two later I found out that this cape was from Mexico and had belonged to a Shaman. It was used in special ceremonies. I hadn’t mentioned this to my friend; it was the other way around. He had told me, quite spontaneously, that he was told that the cape was used for magical purposes that involved whistles and dancing, and was performed out in the desert, away from towns and especially the Church. How or why our friend managed to get this cape I don’t know, except that was a collector of what we call folk art and folk religious items. To those that participated in these dances and ceremonies, those are just labels used by outsiders.


Desert Visitation: The Green Warty “Man”


This incident happened about twenty-five years ago or so. I was sitting on the bed reading. I wasn’t in bed; it was still early. I was simply on top of the covers, dressed, reading my book. My husband was in the other room. I had what I call a “mind post card,” — it’s an experience that happens every so often, where the picture, absolutely vivid 3-D full color image, is “inserted” into my mind with a sharp suddenness. It’s as if someone had literally slid a postcard or a slide of an image (and very often a moving image) into my head. I don’t know where it comes from, or why it happens. Usually it’s a telepathic thing: a preview of something that occurs later that day, or within a day or two. This time however, it wasn’t a prediction of something; it was a “visit.”


This “mind post card” was of a dirty lime-green being with warts or bony stubby nubs all over his body. He had two little stubs or buttons at the top of his forehead; not horns or antlers, but the suggestion of such. I just “knew” that this being was male. It wasn’t human, but it wasn’t animal. It was maybe closer to human than not, but definitely not human. He was sitting in profile to me, squatting down actually. We were out in the desert — or, he was. At this point it doesn’t matter; it was as if I was transported, or his whole world superimposed itself onto mine. I was there with him/it. We had entered each other’s realm of existence. Somehow I had been transported to his desert, and his desert had moved closer to my world.


He “saw” me and turned his head to look at me. He slowly grinned at me, but this was no happy smiley expression! He was a nasty piece of work! It was clear he knew exactly how I was feeling, and thought it very funny in a sadistic way. He was also a little irritated I was there — or, he was here — that we were in each other’s worlds.


I was so damn startled that I screamed. With that scream he popped out (or I was snapped back to my own reality.) And again he seemed irritated, it as if he wanted me to stick around so he could toy with me. He was mad I had screamed and ruined the fun. Such a temporary and special event gone in a flash.


To this day I remember that experience with a chill. I don’t associate any UFO experience or connection with this (although, with all the high strangeness that often accompanies UFOs who knows) and I wouldn’t say it was alien. Not alien from another planet; not even alien from this earth. But I had the sense it very much belonged here and was of the earth, and it belonged here, if such judgments can be made on these things, more than humans. I had the feeling it was indigenous to the earth.


Image: Brian Froud

Circus and Haiku: A Positive Omen for Creativity?

Couldn’t sleep last night; got up, tried to write. During the day, I was going through old files, trying to clean up my work area. Lots of files on UFOs, the paranormal. A lot of academic papers I’d written when studying folklore at the University of Oregon. (One titled: Talking Deer: The Presence and Function of Animals in UFO Abduction Lore.)Made some notes, went over pages of stuff, but, nothing. Went back to bed.

Earlier in the day, I tweeted to a haiku group that a goal of mine is to “write a haiku a day.” I started doing this a couple of years ago. Not quite one a day; sometimes a few in one day, then nothing for awhile. I carry around a little black notebook just for my writing notes and poems, haiku and haibun.

 

the New Year’s goal

writing a haiku a day

not going well

frog1.png

I subscribe to Modern Haiku. (MH published one of my haiku years ago, rejected a couple of months ago though. Try again . . . ) Aside from writing fiction; poetry and short fiction, I also write about the paranormal and supernatural, UFOs, and all kinds of weird.

I had the following dream last night, after I finally went to bed:

My new issue of Modern Haiku arrived, which surprises me, since I just received a copy and they publish a few times a year. Much too soon to receive a copy. But, I’m very happy to receive this. I also receive an unexpected zine from someone I don’t know. I wonder how they got my address, how they know about me. Both are fiction and poetry inspired publications.

In the Modern Haiku journal, there is an article by a woman about me! The title was Regan Lee: Circus. The author writes that, while not a believer, nor disbeliever, in things paranormal, she was inspired and moved by my writing. Somehow this writer got a hold of my article and she wrote a very positive review of my work.

Of course I’m excited and honored and show this off to everyone, including co-workers. I don’t care if they don’t care — though most of them are interested, and do know of my work in this area — I am so happy about this! But also a little confused. How did this woman come to know of my work? I hadn’t put this paper up anywhere.

The other zine, also from someone I didn’t know, gives me a positive mention as well. Again, I wonder how it is these people came across my work. I also wonder at the strangeness of a review on UFOs and the paranormal appearing in a haiku publication. And what does the circus have to do with any of this? (Circus: something I abhor.)

Creativity. Something extremely important to me, with me my whole life. I don’t put creativity in a box; it’s everywhere, in everything I do or think. Some may not think there is anything creative — blending into a spiritual place — about the realm of UFOs and related themes. I those areas as operating in a strong  and creative plane. Two worlds: outer, inner. Fiction, non-fiction. Mundane, magical. Not always opposites with nothing in common. Going back and forth between worlds.

Which is what I’ve been doing since childhood.  Expressing one realm to another. Maybe that’s the circus part; it can get very chaotic and silly and surreal very fast. I take this dream as a positive message to keep going, following my own crazy path.

Cartoons From the Past

Clearing off a few shelves to make room for more books and vinyl (Santa brought us a new turntable) I came across a folder of cartoons I did decades ago. Just silly things. I did a few of a character I came up with; Pongo, the Neurotic Dog. (The quality is awful, I know, not much I can do with a built in Mac camera.)

Pongobyreganlee.jpg

I don’t remember if I was aware of it at the time, but “Pongo sees his first UFO” is dated 1954, the year I was born. And a lifetime of UFO and related experiences ever since.

Another silly one, about the great Cosmic nature of it all:

substomicrlee.jpg

Moon in Gemini, never a good thing for us Pisces:

moon in geminireganlee.jpg

And finally, beware the Radio Active Cows. Maybe that’s why the aliens are abducting them.

radioactivecowsreganlee.jpg

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