The majority of Americans or European Americans enjoy this little thing called, White Privilege. I will call it Wasicu Privilege or Colonial Privilege. Anglo Americans are all super privileged because we are on the receiving end, as recipients, of a centuries old unjust and illegal occupation – enjoying the fruits of our labors in the Stolen Lands of First Nations! The are still here, surviving and still fighting for a real voice in that system which gives them no actual representation in 2020. That is privilege, my friends! That’s the truth as I see it in YOUR Empire of Lies and Denials that continue to benefit YOU. Welcome to the same old America!
In my early life, not sure exactly when – some source of intelligence came to me when I was a child. It was not traumatic. It was nothing like being abducted or taken against my will and I was not violated and nothing questionable was committed against me. I have a definitive connection to the Universe outside of our planetary world here on Earth as a result. Whoever they were, wherever they came from; somehow they were involved in my upbringing. I have to give credit when it is due; they had profound influence during my development. There is no other way to explain why I am on this UFO/ET Road, now. I didn’t wind up on this path obsessively until 2013 – when I started witnessing real UFOs in the sky, especially one that was a triangle craft in close proximity on the boundary of the Jicarilla-Apache Reservation Southwest of Dulce, New Mexico in 2014. These events caused earlier memories and recollections in my life to resurface. They are basically telling me, “We Are Still Here!”
Like Humanity, there is good and evil throughout our history with examples like Hitler and the Third Reich, and righteous individuals like Jesus Christ. All these individuals were prime sources of influence on mankind and polar opposites of good and evil. We often blame Lucifer, the Christian Devil as being the source of these evils, and Lucifer is also an Intelligence. The ones I speak of exist both in human and non-human form and when asked whether these intelligences are good and noble or evil and hostile – I respond that they are all the above. Like humanity, there is all sorts of good and evil in all of the Creator’s Universe and I attribute the “Most High” of the Intelligences as the Creator – or what Christians would call God and Muslims call Allah!
We are not alone in the Universe and I think the Creator intended it to be this way. We are being visited and influenced by other intelligences whether they be of light or darkness; there is a balance along with the many shades which accompany these BEINGS. Some of them use technology that is far more advanced than what is available to Humanity’s disposal. Some of this tech has been gifted to us as well, only to be locked up in secrecy.
All I know is that I am barely scratching the surface and I have a lot to learn and there is a lot that I do know about but do not fully understand yet. I have seen some some of these Intelligences, beings, and some of their technologies. I’m comfortable acknowledging this in a very grounded way. Their influence in my life has been very positive with no malevolence but there is a lot of it steeped up in uncrackable mystery. I get a feeling that in due time, more information and knowledge will come to me along with many others who have had these experiences or events that are closely related.
In my teen years I was backpacking solo into the hills. A few of my friends thought I was either suicidal or crazy but I was quite the opposite. While I was out there in the desert, or the mountains, all by myself, powerful things happened to me. These experiences changed my life forever, and the course of my destiny. It made me who I am today. There’s an Mormon adage/scripture that says; “By their fruits, ye shall know them,” and these beings brought about changes in my life that were for the better. Sometimes these episodes left me spooked, startled, completely at a loss and deep in fear but when I came to grips with the experiences, I quickly realized that these events were teaching and preparing me for who knows what? It was something that is coming at a future date. The truth is though, I am an artist, photographer and writer because of these beings and intelligences and their visitations.
If you read through this journal and go through some of my poems/pros written years ago, the words will shed more light on what it is I’m talking about.
by Nathan Cowlishaw
I have noticed how many UFO Buffs get interested in the topic for a short while then get bored. Since 2013 now, I’ve been steadily dedicated to Ufology because of three unique close encounters that I witnessed with UFOs (or should I say intelligences?) that began in 2013. This didn’t make me a buff – it forever changed me into an obsessed researcher and the phenomenon haunts me these days. These incidents changed my life for better or worse. I believe my friend, Travis Walton’s story and many others who have either endured or were enlightened by these events. Many of these people are telling the truth and my experiences are going to stay with me in a very strong way for the rest of my life because these sightings forever change reality and the soul. It really doesn’t matter what other people might think or how they judge others like myself with their neolithic “flat earthed” prejudices because the bigger picture of this reality is eternally more infinite than many of us will ever comprehend. As an LDS Mormon, I never realized I would be proclaiming to see God’s face in this phenomenon and I’m not totally sure how it’s all tied to the religions of our planet but I believe the Creator himself has a hand in it. Millions of people are seeing these objects and a chosen few are witnessing ETs in person. I believe it’s both Universal and Inter-dimensional and I’m definitely seeing the smoke rising on the fringes of the reality of Mankind.
These days, I see other people posting deep things on social networks like Facebook, and I start to think how vain it is to put important content or anything with a more serious personal tone on a place like a corporate social network. Have we become such frail and hollow beings that we no longer find independence? This is why it is important for me to have a journal and a space to pen my more personal and intimate thoughts with a maturity that no social network is worthy of.
While stating the obvious above, here’s what’s on my mind…
I cannot change who I am for anyone but can be supportive and caring and understanding of someone else who is different. Yes, I have my struggles but the Creator knows what’s in my heart. We all have a purpose and a mission in this life. I’m trying to make sense of mine.
I would like to find someone who is wise beyond their years, with a deeper spiritual awakening about the world, and the universe and all of creation, but doesn’t care so much for our secular society where all the mundane norms become overbearing. There would be a strong affinity between this individual and me that comes loaded with absolute certainty neither of us could deny; something confirmed by a Higher Power. The Universe/Multiverse is infinite and I am aware of it as I dwell in the corners of God’s imagination. Love is simply being content and grateful for what God, the Creator, has given you. Love, through all of it’s expressions works in mysterious ways with an intelligence that even becomes eternal.
Writing a journal through these technologies enables a sturdy place for record keeping. Every day, the internet is being recorded and archived for future generations. Keeping this record let’s those who read it in the future know what was going through my mind, historically. Really, though, sometimes a serious thought and introspection is worth writing and then contemplating on.
I was inspired to say something meaningful! I’m happy in my own skin as I have matured over the years while facing the music. As an individual, my happiness comes from within and my desires and needs have changed over time. I’m still young, with so much life ahead. I hope the Creator helps me determine a destiny and guides me on where I need to go and lets me know what needs to get done.
I spent a day in the silence of our ranch, reliving some those experiences that still lurk on the outer edges of time and space. A supernatural wind howled and groaned, pushing cloudships across blue sky, and causing the empty ranch house to creak. Alone, I felt an intense euphoria as if something from the deep hills had come to pay me a visit! There’s a canyon nearby, Win Canyon, and Braffits Creek trickles down the left fork. The brush and undergrowth chokes the creek bottom, all the way up into the aspen and pine forests above. Braffits Creek may not seem like much, but to our family, it is somewhat sacred. We have stories that originate from there; even I have had personal experiences while hiking and exploring the area.
Braffits Creek is truly a strange place… My uncle and I came out of there late one summer night, with experiences that are hard to describe, like a child’s footprint in the middle of a mud bar near the creek, or the crazy laughter of an unknown animal rushing through the dense bushes. How do you describe those experiences? Will folks ever believe? In so many way, I’ve allowed those amazing experiences to fade into history.
The stars stand bold against trees. The fire is dancing. The smoke drifts in my direction and soaks into my skin. This is a quiet moment in the Great Basin; where the little people roam the night. These individuals are knee tall. They move through the juniper mountains like ants. I can hear their whisperings, as they work in busy networks… preparing for what may come this way, someday… The thunder storms of summer claim these valleys and the thunderheads are in control. Bolts of lightning draw near, and slam the earth. At night the sky seems to clear, but the storms are like power houses, and linger late into the night.
You have to be careful of the little people. They are there. As I search up winding canyons, what surprises may be waiting? This is the middle of nowhere, which is a place for the remote few of us that desire such isolation. The wasteland may not seem like much to a lot of people, but they are afraid of it, and they hide in great cities. But when I visit their cities, I feel really lonely. When I journey out into the wild, it feels like I’m going home every time.
Going down dirt roads, my car eats the gravel. The dust comes in through the windows. I breathe the dirt road into my lungs, and the dust collects in the jungle of my scalp. Sage Brush, tall as trees, grows along the road and I love the smell of sage after a fresh cloud burst. Sometimes, when I’m driving across basin valleys late at night, I imagine those little people roaming around in the eternal hills. I cannot stop thinking about the mysteries of the rolling, Juniper-covered hills.
In my desert camp, I watch the fading sunset burn the low rising ridges and basin hills. Crowded Junipers greet the setting sun. Clouds ignite in orange, pink, red, and maroon, then purple. All colors silently fade without a noise, as the crickets serenade. Coyotes howl in the distance; thunder sounds somewhere far, far away. The stars come out like bold specks against the dark earth. It is not an evil dark, but a pure black darkness that haunts my imagination. It has provided many sleepless dreams.
A boy sat outside the village
looking at the grave yard at the mesa’s edge.
“What ever happened to the dead?” he pondered.
“Are they living some where else far away?”
Skeletons walking around after
the day turns to night
inspires the boy to dream of
the darkness and deepness of rivers.
“Are the dead living somewhere else?”
Out on the mesa edge he prays every morning.
He prays, waiting for the sun to come up;
to come over and talk to him.
Every night, he dreams of the
medicine that will make him dead.
He wants to go see the corpse house. Please come.
The sound is making him old.
His dream for the crimson light is fading.
“Poem inspired from a Hopi story.”
dark rain clouds
wander the blue sky
making the dream come
alive a vision of the
Then cries the raven
from its hollow in the
that twists its branches
into the ancient wind
Thunder echoes way across
the desert yonder
the eyes can see
The black rock
was the blood of
that ancient beast
that was slain so
the locust begin buzzing
and an eagle heralds the dawn
when that sun peaks
up over the rim of mountains
the clouds catch
The old man pulls up his
of no suspenders. He laughs
out with his diabetic belly
and sings of how he has
The grand kids pile out of
the truck, hollering and
shouting as grandpa sticks
his false teeth back in
while heavens above are glistening
and the happy meadow lark sings of
a beautiful new day
I am wondering through what beauty is left…
There is hardly a place to go
where man has not intruded.
Everything is changing.
I dream of what happened long ago.
What was Earth like then?
There is a divine power today,
not all is gone.
I believe that the sky
and the landscape will change.
People will have no part in it,
if they are not worthy.
Strange things come to me on the wind.
The sun in this quiet world is talking to me.
The Earth is helping me dream too.
The ravens are excited, and chatter
the news around in their little circles.
The desert is waking up,
and the ocean of silence is telling me.
So I have learned…
“The mountains are the last things that are remaining old and undisturbed, but even now we are building things into them. I still can go in them, camp out and watch the stars; sleep and dream in the night by an old fire; and wonder some where else other than this realm of confusion. It truly is something simple, easy, and very righteous. It is being alone and hearing the voices of the past…”
I composed this in my late teens, around the time I turned eighteen and was graduating from high school. You could say I was pretty lucky to graduate, considering I sloughed a lot of high school. If it hadn’t been for my mom’s steady motivation, I would’ve might’ve been a drop out. When I turned sixteen I took advantage of having a driver’s license, I spent a lot of free time in the hills. Friends used to go with me a lot, but they soon dwindled and went their seperate ways. I’m passed tweny now and the years are starting to slip by… Still those places that I love are still there. They sing of the past. I am going to post pieces of writings from earlier in my life, and include them under their own category. You will see them filed under Time Warp… They are quite simple, maybe even repulsive… But that was me six years ago.