Monday, December 25, 2017

Saltair Part w by Jymie Darling

The Saltair by Jymie Darling

At the ghostly after event at the Great Saltair. It was an incredible night. You can feel It in the air. Temperatures were dropping.

I stepped out of the car. Smell of salt in the air. The Saltair in front of me, a copper mine to left in the distance, the original spot of the Saltair to the right of me (approximately the same distance of the mine) and the grwat salt lake in front of all those.

I asked one of the crew to walk with me. The building did not catch my interest at all. There were no great feelings from it. The lake bed, it called out to me.

We walked up towards the edge of lake bed (now receded quite a ways in). A clear and distinct whistle from right behind us made my companion stand at attention. Immediately turning around, there was no one sight. This was already promising to be a great night.

We left to go into the building to check in and meet up with the rest of the group. I amused my host with tales of why one should never whistle, particularly at night. She was shook up. Poor Max.

We settled into the host area, and devoured some dinner.

I hosted a group of investigators but my mind was solidly outside. I just could not shake it.

I like to have all the facts and history of a place in my hands for an investigation. Not what others have found, nay, that provides a preconceived notions about what to expect. I want just the cold history. For that, I rely on Mary. Our Los Angeles group, S.C.A.R.E.D. (Southern Californian Allied Reseachers for Evidence of the Disembodied) run like a well oiled machine. I like to think of us much like the cast of Criminal Minds. Mary is our Baby Girl. She can find you all the info in a deep scrub.

I shoot Mary a text. Earlier in the day, she gave me what I needed to know about the building...including it was not even on the original site. I tell her that I am drawn to lake bed.

Within minutes, baby girl is sending Google shots, info, and more.

There is a perfect triangle. An island that continues to catch my eye out in the lake bed. I know it is there as I can make out an outline. The copper mine. Copper being an excellent conduit and mines are a source of tragedy. Finishing with the original Saltair site. I ask her about this. She tells me that it is odd as there are believed portals by a Shaman there. More than that, there is a Bermuda Triangle style energy there. The Salt Lake Triangle. Equipment malfunction. Small aircraft problems. Crashes. Boats sinking. All the makings of a perfect storm.

I ask her, what does that island have to do with it. There are a few out there but only one that matters to me. She says she will scrub and get back to me.

An interesting fact of no great importance to that night....the Donner Party crossed through here just before making the fatal turn into the high Sierras. A rock that was used as a guide still stands.

One more is a known body dump sight for years.

I take a small group out with me. I spin a tale of history.

Look out unto the lake bed. See how it looks like water? Yet, as we walk, there is no water. The lake has pulled back.

Visualize yourself coming across the grwat unknown. Tired. Cold. Thirsty. Hungry. You see this in the distance and you move towards it. More and more. Desperation takes hold of your mind and body. You drive your horses faster. You jump out and run to the water. There is none. It is an illusion. You keep going to the next one. The next one. You find yourself sinking in the sludge. If you do fond the waters is so dense with salt, it would be fatal to drink it. Some take that chance. Welcome to the highway of tragedy. Where you stand.

One of guests looks panic stricken. He begins to run into the lake bed screaming "I know it is right here. The water is right here. Everyone, we can survive."

I grimace and go after him. I catch up to him. I ask him "honey, what are you doing?" He replies "We need water." I remind him that we have cases of water in the building. He looks out to the black night of the Lake Bed....panicked. I grab his shoulders and ask him "and what if you find it? You cannot drink it, son. You will die. It is 3x the salt density of the ocean. And should you get close, you will sink in the mud. Should you get through that, you will drown in the density of the water. It is not like the Dead Sea."

He snaps out of it and agrees to go back towards the building and the group. He looks towards the old Saltair point. We here a kid scream. His friend sprints off in that direction and he follows as do I. I stop them. I tell them, there is no human in trouble. A child drowned at the original Saltair. You are hearing the imprint.

My phone goes off as I am leading the group back to the building. Keeping the two teens in my sight as they are being drawn to the lake middle.

I return into the building. I meet up with Susan Slaughter, the other guest host.

Susan and I return to the lake part 2 of this blog, I will tell you of our tale!

Trolls by Jymie Darling

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Lesson Learned

by Jymie Darling Last year or maybe it was the year before...why I cannot remember is not a mystery (thank you military traumatic brain injury), I did a ride in the Veteran Ride at a horse show. I made no money. I made nothing more than any other rider did. I got a participation medal. It was for the wounded warrior project. I was in a dilemma. I have none of my old uniforms. Like nothing left from those days. I have some ribbons I was awarded but they are in pieces a bit. I went and got a uniform. I ordered my name badges. Got my unit patches. Two days prior to the event, they arrived....wrong. Unit were colored and names were wrong BDU. I flipped. I went in and I talked to the rep at the DAV and to some VFW friends, I talked to anyone who would talk to me at the VA, both patients and my therapist. Background...I just lost a few AMMO friends...cancer, heart and suicide. I was a mess losing them. An absolute mess. They were my first friends in Area 2 of Nellis AFB. Yes....AMMO worked Area 2. Know why you do not know? Because up until recently, that base was classified. Most of what I did there....STILL CLASSIFIED. Sorry your pathetic POI requests cannot get that. Nor the rest of the duty I did after I took a small break from uniform and returned in another branch for a small tour. Boo fucking hoo. Everyone said (including the old vietnam vets)...fuck it. Wear what you have. Fuck it, really. Who the fuck is going to cry regs in a charity event for the vets but not military sponsored. And if they do cry....they need to kill themselves for being such babies about it. And trust, there were losers in uniform that will cry at you sweetheart. Fuck them. They are proving what losers they are. Usually the ass lickers and shit eaters. I liked that. I use that phrase now. My therapist said, do something to honor my friends. That would make me feel less helpless, less hopeless. So I did. The medals that are being spread around the web as stolen valor by the ass licker, Shawn Armstrong and the shit eater, Marie Bargas...they are on the horse. They are not on my chest. DAV said, use all the medals of your fallen friends and yours but NOT ON YOUR CHEST...I riding blanket? YEP. I said...oh lord, I do not even remember mine and do I use the combo of the reserve to the active between my branches? GOOGLE. That was the advice. GOOGLE. So I did. Google got it wrong. But it was right as far as I knew. So I was attacked for it. I did not feel like full answers to total strangers who need to get a life or stop breathing in theirs. Miserable human sludge (2...a whole 2 people). My answers were either edited, taken out of context and/or completed fabricated on their mission to attack a 100% honorable AMMO USAF troop and made it their obsession. I want to be mad...but really, you must be so pathetic that all I can do is feel pity. So there. I do not owe a further explanation. I will not give one. This is in it's entirety but I am sure for Marie Bargas' websites and blogs...that mentally unhinged cancer of the community will twist it. Ass lickers and shit eaters. Oh...for my as I want and when nobodies of the world ask me to explain myself or they will make their mission to destroy everything about me, my horse and my businesses...answer: Ass licker or shit eater?

The Occult can Eat a Soul

As I sit and think back on all the nonsense and insanity that I have encountered with my 25 plus years in the occult community as one of the most respected spiritual advisors and the attacks that have continued from the handful of full on mentally unbalanced. I also served a lot of people and gave them good advice and great sound influence. This is one case and one case that I lost a good person into the clutches of a mentally unbalanced woman, Marie Bargas. The Case of Cole Prime. Now, I felt sorry for Cole for a very long time. He showed up like a lost puppy at my store. He was young. Confused. As much as I had empathy for him, it was his kids that endeared my to his family. They often showed up at my events at Panpipes Magickal Marketplace. Always so pleasant. Cole had extreme ideas but they were always grounded in reality. For years I knew and loved him and his family. Then one day, after I left the store and went into retirement...I created a group on facebook for the Los Angeles community to have a forum to speak. It was going well. Jake Richardson claimed he could make the weather change and that he could bring world peace...but did not want to. For his safety of ridicule that was being lumped on him...I took him from the group. He continued on my I deleted him. He is a super sensitive guy. Extremely good looking but super sensitive. I know he does not understand my reasoning but I felt more like a mother hen at that moment as I have ALWAYS felt like a mother hen to him. Cole jumps on one night. He begins talking Matrix. People are egging him on in a "look at this idiot" kind of way. I jumped privately to a few friends on the group and asked me to help me figure out if he was okay...THIS WAS NOT LIKE COLE. He started talking about paranoid delusions of being tapped. When pressed, he went further into a whole rant on holograms and how his family was against him and they were spies and possible holograms. I asked where his wife and kids were. In the public forum. My phone blowing up with people freaking out that he will hurt them. He said they were locked in their room and he had it with her treason. That she was poisoning the kids. Look....I do not know if she was. That is not my business. Technically, relationships...not my fecking business. However, when it looks like something is about to go bad incredibly fast, I would feel remiss if I did not act. So I contacted her. She was terrified. My advice...and my only advice at that time was: call 911. Find a place to stay tonight safely. Talk to the police. This is not like Cole. She did. Cole called me. Scared. I know he thinks that I betrayed him...I told him..when the cops come, talk calmly. Cooperate. Let the wife and kids leave to feel safe and this can all be worked out. Cole has fallen into the trap of believing a full psychic fraud named Marie Bargas. She is one of the most manipulative liars in the community. She believes herself a PR agent and I can share the horror stories of those that she has tried to convince to hire her, including myself. The joke is...everyone thinks she is a fraud and just keeps her close so that they do not deal with all the false websites, fabricated evidence and lies and threats that she continues to do to those that call her out. I called her out. She creates over 15 websites about me and has it spread by the people she cons. I still worry about Cole. I think he needs a grounded influence. I think he is in one of the biggest fluxes of his life and it is called "Transgender". Please Cole...Please honey, you are not crazy. You are not out of control. You certainly put that forward right now...but you are really just lost and confused. I wish you would have stayed put with grounded forces. Marie is a user. Marie is paranoid and possibly schizophrenic. She believes herself a pallidin healer waiting for Cthulhu to come. THIS IS NOT SANE. THIS IS NOT REALITY. Find some ground, dear Cole. You always know how to reach me, luv. visit my sites: Babylon Gardens Apothecary Jymie Darling The Pagan Paradigm