In 1956, I was born the 4th and last child to a couple of poor and dysfunctional parents that lived through the great depression in the southeastern part of the USA (Oklahoma and Louisiana).  My father was a heavy duty mechanic, working on the large equipment that built roads, and we just happened to be living in Logan, Utah on that particular February day.  We moved around a bit more, before my first memories of this life, which happened to be at a small house at the end of a cul-de-sac, with a large lot of roses and a small grove of walnut trees next to it, in Pomona, California.  This is also the house that my two older brothers died, my mother fell into a distant state of depression, and my sister and I spending Christmas in a foster home during my 3rd year on this planet.  I really don't remember how long we were "wards of the state", less than a year I think, but we eventually went back to this extremely depressive and progressively violent home.  Needless to say, the extremely psychic and empathetic being I had come into this world as, chose to become the "invisible child".

We began another period of moving around, following the extensive interstate highway and "infrastructure" projects that the government implemented during the 1960s, living in Nevada, Oregon, and various places in southern California between my ages of 5 to 10.  At the beginning of the school season of my 10th year, my mother convinced my dad to buy a home and start leaving us behind while he went traveling around the country himself, building roads, bridges, and dams. They bought a small house, in a new housing tract, that only built one long street out in the middle of farm land in Moreno Valley, California, because the developer squandered their funding and went belly up.  This one long street was nestled up against the northern hills of the valley, surrounded by barely and carrot fields, orange groves, and horse, turkey and chicken farms.  I have many fond memories of long hours walking and "pretending" out in this wonderful wide open country.  My sister, being 4+ years older than I, found this isolation and the physical and psychological abuse going on at home seriously oppressive and left home at 16, when I was 12.  She had been the only person I felt close to and this was another very devastating time for me.

On a more personal, and less "demographic" level, I was a very "aware" and creative child.  I spent long hours making toys from "trash", taking things like old magazines and shoe boxes and turning them into paper dolls and doll houses.  My sister and I were very close, though we are complete opposites in disposition and temperament.  She spent many hours teaching and exposing me to everything from high-school mathematics and science subjects she had a passion for, to yoga, meditation, and Ann Rand and Kurt Vonnegut works and philosophy.  I have always been a vivid dreamer, but as a child I constantly astral traveled, lucid dreamed, and would often find myself in "other places" both in the dream state, and upon waking.  My sister had me begin to write my dreams down when I was 9 years old, thinking it would help me sort out the vast and sometimes confusing events and symbolism in my dreams.  Other beings, that I called angels for lack of other terms, and various animals would came to visit me regularly in both my dreams and waking life.

Another other thing my big sister introduced me to was the wonderful world of marijuana and LSD.  Both of these drugs suited me very well, because of my rather nervous and high strung nature and my innate ability to "walk between worlds".  I am one of the few people I know that actually feels whole and complete in all ways when under the influence of LSD and other psychotropic drugs.  By the time my sister had left home, I was fully entrenched in the drug culture of my time.

Unfortunately, once my sister left home, I was no longer able to continue my role as the "invisible child".  My sister had (has) always been very confrontational by nature, so she was also the "target" of most of my father's wrath, second only to my mother in "victim hood".  When she left, I was granted all of his attention.  With the advent adolescences and this increase in "attention" of my father, my grades and attitude progressively declined.  I eventually had had enough and left home myself at the age of 14.

I began hitch-hiking around the country, "crashing" at various people's "pads" or sleeping out on the ground along side the highways and roads I was traveling.  In this time period, I traveled from California to Florida and back once, up through Arizona into Utah and Colorado once, and up into Washington to where my sister was currently living.  I also met both the best and the worst of humanity, with people willing to feed and cloth me, as well as rape me and steal my meager possessions.  There were a couple of times that the authorities caught me, and even sent me back home twice, but this didn't last long.  In my eyes, it was much better to take my chances out on the road, than with my violent and depressing parents.  Eventually, my parents gave consent to my living with my sister in Washington, sending me off, then selling their home and leaving themselves to live in a travel trailer.  My sister and the man she was living with were ill equipped to take care of themselves financially, let alone a teen-ager, so I didn't stay long and began traveling again.

While I was living with my sister, my mother had left my dad again, one of many times she tried to escape the violence, and started living in Reno, with my grandmother.  After traveling around for a while, I decided to go visit her and spend Thanksgiving there.  During this visit, I met a cousin of mine for the first time and instantly fell in love with him.  We were most definitely soul mates in every meaning of the term.  This made me vary uncomfortable for social and ethical reasons, because not only was he my "blood", but he was twice my age (15 years older) and currently married.  I stayed for a couple weeks and then just "disappeared" one early morning, to travel around some more.  I got caught by the authorities again, but this time they had no "home" to send me to.  I told them that my mother was living in Reno, but she was in no position to take me. But my cousin was in a position to take me and made arrangements for me to come live with him and his wife.  The state of California was more than willing to get rid of me, so off to Reno I went.  It didn't take very long for my cousin's very rocky marriage to completely crumble with me in the mix and within less than 6 months, he left her, we moved into a small place together, and my life as an "adult" began.  I was 16.

My cousin's and my relationship was doomed to fail from the beginning, because of social stigma and the age difference, but it lasted for about 6 years.  We did go through the "ceremony" of marriage when I was 18, but the state of  Nevada would never "recognize" us as married.  He taught me how to take care of myself and think in both a logical, yet free manner, by encouraging me to work and progressively improve my work status, get a GED by the time I was 18, how to handle a checkbook and a household budget, how to cook and clean, how to work on my own car, how to love and be loved, and huge amounts of  "academic" information from physics to philosophy.  I will be eternally grateful to this man for all that he gave me, and was for ever changed from my time with him.

My cousin and I parted ways when I was 21.  We were never allowed by societies prejudices to openly acknowledge our relationship and there was never any hope for me to have children.  These and the small issue of our age and "style" differences finally wore us down. 

My life became rather "wild" again at this point.  Living in the 24/7 city of Reno, being of legal age, and having the "restraints" of living a rather conservative "normal" life removed, I began drinking and partying on a pretty regular basis.  I met a man that was a carpet layer working on the employee lounge at on of the casinos where I was working as a cocktail waitress.  He boldly asked me out to a concert at Tahoe, and I accepted.  This was the beginning of a short, but very intense and insane relationship with this man who I discovered midway into our time together was actually a hit man for the mafia.  After loosing several jobs from not showing up after "all-nighters", destroying my car in a single car crash in one of my few sober moments, and becoming extremely depressed and slashing my wrist in one of my many inebriated moments, I convinced this man to let me leave town and let me go live with my sister in Seattle.  I know I was "watched" for quite some time after leaving him, but they finally realized that I was not telling anybody the limited information I could even remember in this "blur" of a time in my life.

I lived with my sister, her man-friend, and her son for about a year.  Her man-friend was a mechanic for a cab company in the Seattle area, which was based just up the hill from a office job I started working at.  I would walk up the hill and hang out with the "cabbies", while waiting for him to get off work and give me a ride home.  I got to know many of these "wild and crazy" guys and began my "wild and crazy" life all over again.  In the middle of all this madness, I met a young man that was the ex-brother-in-law of one of the cabbies I was hanging out with.  They all lived in a kind of group party house.  I eventually moved in with him and we lived together for the next 8 years.

My life with Jack was one of both wild partying and calm living.  Jack was a "gentle biker" who worked as a "glazer" for a large stain glass company.  He was funny, hard working, beautiful (in my eyes), and one of the most "calm" people I have ever met.  During my time with him, I started going to a community college and studied art, got pregnant and lost a child, finished college, finally went to treatment and got sober, started commercial art school, and lost my dad to lung cancer, which led to me moving to Oregon to take over his land and house.  During this "wild and crazy" time, I completely lost my dreams.  Maybe I was still dreaming, but I sure wasn't remembering them and this hurt me deeply.  After I got sober, Jack and I discovered we couldn't get past all the terrible things I had said and done in my drinking years.  We stayed together for another 1 1/2 years after I sobered up, but as soon as my dad died, I knew it was time to move on.  I was 29.

I moved to a rural area outside a small town in Central Oregon to begin a new life in the tiny little house my parents had built on 5 acres of "high desert" covered with ancient juniper trees and sage brush.  My mother had left my dad (for the last time) several years earlier, moved into town, and divorced my dad after nearly 40 years of abusive marriage.  I had fallen in love with the "quiet" of the area, and the thought of owning my own property.

I hadn't realized how much of my substance abuse was my way of trying to "tune out" the "psychic noise" I have experienced my entire life.  Most of my years in Reno, where lived outside the city proper in a very rural area.  All of my time in Seattle was right in the middle of the city.  Even in early sobriety, I was so busy "staying sober", I hadn't realized how "cluttered" my mind was from others thoughts and pain until I had a chance to get away from it for a while.  This became painfully obvious to me during a short period of time I spent working for an old friend of mine in Reno, and living in down-town Reno, after not being able to find lasting work in this beautiful little town in Central Oregon.  After a short "stint" in the absolutely insane and "psychically noisy" city of Reno, I went back to Central Oregon, with someone living in my house, paying my mortgage, and started sleeping in the back of my truck out in the forest.

The rest of this decade consisted of my biological clock screaming and me "picking" a man to be a father (and was married to for about 2 years after my son was born) to a child I "knew" I was to have; bringing a wonderful "star child" into this world on June 16, 1988, going back to school in 1990 and studying accounting; working myself into total physical breakdown by working full-time and going to school full-time as a single mother; having a great accounting job for about a year before I got so sick with Fibromyalgia I couldn't work any more; and loosing my job, my house, my health insurance, and going through bankruptcy.  Right after I lost my house and was living in the basement of a friend's (who would become husband #3) mother's house, I had my first "grown up" visit from my main spirit guide.  In retrospect, I know now that he was the same being that would come to me when I was little.  This began a long and very interesting journey for me of "re-awakening".

Then, if that wasn't "fun" enough, my mother died suddenly of a lung hemorrhage, but not unexpectedly, because she had a failing heart, just after her 80th birthday.  I had been blessed with the both time and opportunity to get to know the "real" mom in the nearly 10 years we had together.  She and my son had the opportunity to get to know each other.  We both miss her dearly.  She guards my son and comes to me in my dreams often.  I was given instructions the night after she died, by my guide, not to try and contact her in any way, because I would hinder her moving on, and that I would just "know" when she had finally moved all the way into the higher realms.  I had a series of dreams weekly dreams, from that point on, in which my mother progressively "moved away" from me.  There was one, about 3 months after her death, in which I just "knew" she had moved on.  He was right.

During the time of my "convalescence" with the Fibromyalgia and after I had lost everything, the "friend" who's mother's basement I was living in and I decided to buy a small trailer and begin living together.  Soon after my mother died, I decided life is too short to not follow ones dreams, so I made the decision to go back to school and get a bachelor's degree in art.  I didn't want to take my son too far from his father and I didn't want to move back into the "psychic noise" of a larger city, so I picked an Oregon state university in a small rural area in northwestern Oregon that had a strong art program.  My new "mate" agreed to the move, so we packed up and moved in the summer of 1996.  I couldn't get enough financial aid to go to school full-time without working as well and I was still struggling with staying up for more than a few hours at a time, so with the financial help of my husband, I took one class a term, and helped my son through the home-school program that he chose to follow when we moved. 

So much growth and healing happened for me on all levels during my time in northwestern Oregon.  I came into the art program with so much prior art credits from my education in Seattle in the '80's, though I had all this experience, this university would not accept the credits.  I ended up spending at least 85% of my class time working under the umbrella of "Independent Study" in several areas of study, and was able to focus more on defining my "message" and exploring methods than my fellow students.  I began formally studying Shamanism during this time as well.  This "study" actually began many years prior, but I made a conscious choice to follow this "way" and I began reading everything I could get my hands on.  I found a man that was willing to take me on as an apprentice and taught me many more things.  Also, during the summer, while my son was away in Bend visiting his father for 3 months, I spent all of my free time in the hills, meadows, and forests learning about and collecting wild herbs.  Slowly I gained strength, endurance and clarity of mind and spirit.

My husband calmly announced one morning in the Spring of 2000, that he was leaving me (which he had obviously been planning for a while, as he had an apartment already lined up).  I was pretty devastated, but managed to work out a "deal" with this always "a gentleman" to continue to support me and my son until I could finish my BS in Fine Art on a full-time bases, while working part-time.  Directly after graduation in the spring of 2001, my son and I moved back to Bend, Oregon to a new "to good to be true" job.  The job turned out to be much more stressful than I could handle, with a boss that was loud, aggressive and unreasonable.  One thing I did learn from my Fibromyalgia illness, even now that I feel 200% better, was that any amount of stress is to much stress.  I lasted two weeks, then quit.  After struggling several months on unemployment, I decided to take out further student financial aid and sign up for a second BS degree in Marketing from the same university through their Distance Education Program.  The more Marketing I studied, the more I realized how all of us are being seriously manipulated by our Corporate Government, which includes the "business" of religion and politics.  I must admit that I have become a kind of ANTI-MARKETER from this experience.

I spent the last 5 years of this "decade" living in Bend, working full-time as an Accountant, doing further study with another "teacher" in Shamanism, creating art, and trying to provide a stable environment for my son to get through the difficult, but exciting "teen" years.  I stumbled upon (I don't really believe in accidents or coincidence) information about Indigo or Star Children (or Adults), which lead to further investigation into the entire UFO and ET world.  I met many people, both whacko and wise, have made many friends, dropped a few, and learned many things.  I do see many correlations between my experiences in early childhood, through my study and experiences in Shamanism, and what many believe to be "ET's".  I know, to the core of my being, that there is SO much more to this thing we call life. 

I turned 50 this year of 2006.  My son turns 18, has done very well in high-school and is off to Oregon State University this fall to study Engineering.  I have know clear idea of what my future will bring, but I do know that I will be quitting my accounting job, selling my house and being the "Traveling Shaman-Artist" that I have been training for all these many years. (UPDATE:  At the time of this writing, I was still working for the same job I had had for nearly 6 years and was planning on working one more.  As it turned out, my employer "downsized" my job (let me go) about 1 month later, so all my "plans" had be brought forward by almost exactly one year).