Tell me a million times, how much the skin on my face means to your fingers, as you glide them softly from the brow above my eyes to the hollow beneath my lips, then kiss me.

And how you love the image of the water dripping from my toes making ever radiating ripples in the pond as we sit on the dock just before sunset.

How you love to watch my hair blowing in the gentle autumn breeze, like the sweeping silken branches of the weeping willow tree, behind me on the shore.

How you love to see the sunlight that shines off the water, sparkling its brilliant reflection into my eyes, on my face, and on my body, like an exotic fire dance.

Tell me, oh please tell me, as our rapid breath slows, taking in the smell of the earth around and within us how much you love me, a million times, a million times a million, as I love you.

By Evelyn Mitchell, copyright 2008

I was inspired by Jacks speech about the apocalypse “An Apocalypse” in his words. He says the definition of apocalypse means a revealing. So I looked it up and every modern dictionary says it’s like the end of the world type stuff, but the Ancient Greek definition is less destructive; to us anyway.

“From Wikipedia – An apocalypse (Ancient Greek: ἀποκάλυψις apokálypsis, from of/from: ἀπό and cover: κάλυψις, literally meaning “from cover”) is a disclosure or revelation of great knowledge.”
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apocalypse

In the common dictionaries, you will see it’s about catastrophic destruction, and that’s what they want us to see, and fear.

So maybe the destruction we are all worried about is really only the destruction of the Status Quo. But for the higher powers that be; over our lives anyway, it really is total destruction, a destruction of their hold on us. When we finally see the truth that is right in front of us if we choose to look.

Listen, The first part of the audio my washer is still running (sorry) but I don’t have audacity set up right to fix it yet. I just wanted to get this out.

To see the entire Podcast You’ll find it on his website title: Out Back With Jack Epi – 3011

I’m a little rusty here, I haven’t felt strongly enough about something to re-post it like this in a very long time. I hope I’m not braking any rules by doing this. Jack if you see this please let me know if I messed up.

It’s the explaining that’s really hard.

Download Seeking Truth PDF

Little cries for help.

I would spend days, even weeks and months searching and researching to help find information for the people I am trying to help. Usually the people I was trying to help were family and friends. I would spend so much time trying to find answers for them, or another way to help them complete something that they were at their wits end about.

I researched remedies on health issues, for them and for their animals. I looked up therapies, exercises, and nutritional foods. I couldn’t ignore their complaints, like little cries for help. But I was usually met with a very un-ceremonial brush off or a blank stare, and in some cases ridiculed and/or dismissed.

I have gone into more subjects on the quest for finding answers to other people’s problems that I became good at spotting bull-shit and false information.

The crazy, eccentric nuisance

I used to write or document my findings so I could present the evidence to them and refer back to it when they needed to. Or I’d buy them the book, or product, or try to perform the service required, but it was often met with a shut down.

Then months or years later someone else would say the same thing to them, or they would come across the same information I was trying to give them and never make the connection that I also tried to help them with that very information. But it’s not worth fighting about, they are using the information and that was all I wanted. So I remain the crazy eccentric nuisance family member/friend that everyone dismisses as soon as I open my mouth.

I’m okay with that.

The truth remains

Over the years it has gotten harder to articulate what I want to say and it comes out in broken thoughts and strange sentences. I seem to forget that people can’t hear the dialogue in my head, and they don’t have the benefit of seeing all the pieces I’ve put together to come up with the ideas, answers and conclusions that I have, but if they would just listen for a minute, ask a question or two then my mind would be able to assemble the information the way they need to hear it, in the language they most understand. The truth remains no matter how it’s explained.

To a child the truth is explained simply with little detail because they lack the experience to turn some vocabulary into pictures or concepts. To a scholar such explanations would piss him off for the insinuation that he is a dullard. There are shades between the extremes that I can use to explain the truth if they would just engage long enough to help me find the way.

I get frustrated with people who pretend to be interested, and often hurt…

The above was written on 9/21/21 …a few days later my mind expands; the story I want to say comes out.

Faith is getting harder to come by.

I am so afraid to take the shot that I am making myself sick, but I really have to go back to work. I am very concerned that the mandates are going to be enforced before any of the groups who are fighting it can make a difference. I am also afraid of getting any respiratory infection because I have been diagnosed with COPD/Asthma syndrome that was exacerbated by pneumonia and then by bronchitis several times before I found homeopathy.

If you know how I might reverse the COPD scaring that would be nice, but my main concern today is being sure I can survive the ravages of the shot.

I do not have enough faith in the science/medical associations… any allopathic level. They are all strangled by higher corporations more concerned with money and power than they are with the individual’s quality of life. Even many of the alternative modes are succumbing to the pressure, it’s getting really bad.

I’m still learning

On the one hand I can’t blame them they have the same hopes and dreams that we all do, a family to protect and a short life to live eking out what happiness they can. In some ways their lot is harder, they were full of wonder and possibility when they put those white coats on for the first time. I was there; I felt the surge of excitement learning how the body worked, hungry to learn more, I devoured the knowledge hung on the words from instructors and dreamt of helping people when I finally learned enough to do some good.

I’m still learning, but the most important thing I’ve learned is that every person and every situation is different; the same diagnosis has a different road map a different set of circumstances that led them to their unhealthy state so varied that a five minute history and a glance at the highlights of a chart can’t possibly bring a conclusion. Then stacked back to back, like a crowded bread line of starving people, the doctors and nurses are supposed to hand out standardized care, a one size fit’s all, per category. It really doesn’t work.

It all matters

It all matters every event, every trauma, every illness, every childhood environment, every temperament, frame of mind, hopes, dreams, relationships and diet. It all matters it all paints a picture and every picture is different. I see the changes in people who change what they are doing to affect their health for the better and I’ve seen the decline when the standardized treatment was followed religiously.

I don’t pretend to be a doctor or medical professional but I see the people held hostage, in limbo between health and death out of fear. It’s true some choices are ours to make but we are making blind choices with empty tool bags. We aren’t taught as a matter of course throughout our lives that our bodies will tell us what we need. We aren’t taught to listen, to feel and to trust our instincts. When we do say something or question the dogma we are ridiculed and brow-beat into trembling submission. Over a lifetime we learn that we don’t matter and are complacent in that assumption, some even own their submission as a badge of honor. They learn they are powerless and no amount of evidence to the contrary will sway them otherwise. It sickens me to know that people could have been taught to care for themselves just as vehemently. Taught to hear the needs of their own bodies long before radical steps were necessary.

Now they can’t believe reversals are possible, just the way the higher corporations wanted it to be.

Help the body
do the job it needs to do.

I may be over suspicious willing to discount everything coming out of the medical establishment but I do know that the body is an amazing machine designed to work, repair itself, feed itself, and defend itself, we are capable of helping it accomplish those ends sometimes with the help of others, but capable none the less. Suppression is not the way, it may make things more comfortable in the short run but the wise body will just keep trying to fix itself then more suppression is required until the vital force weakens and a deeper disease begins. The medicine changes a new suppressive tactic is required. The cycle continues until the limbo is accomplished, the hostage is grateful for its life regardless of how diminished it has become.

I’m not stupid, I know how advanced technology is, quantum physics and beyond, I know the cures are there, the therapies that help the body do the job it needs to do to regain its health and vitality but there isn’t much power and wealth in those things. People would start being too happy, relaxed; the fear would diminish. They can’t have that, too many variables, too many happy creative minds would change everything, and they would lose everything. No! To them, suppression is the only way. Reduce the numbers to a manageable level and suppress the rest.

By Evelyn Mitchell

Download a PDF of the Seeking Truth article

I did some minor editing to this post that is not reflected in the PDF

I have holes in this one.

I use Saran wrap usually which holds up longer, but I haven’t been able to get it in a long time. So I’ve been using this knock off brand by Great Value that I can get at Walmart. It’s much thinner and will only last for about 5,000 words before it develops little holes. It also becomes opaque so I can’t see the gray letters on my keys, yes my secret is out I am a visual typer.

By Evelyn Mitchell, October 30, 2020

I just read my about page again and I am astounded at the truth I am seeing there. I don’t even know how to write this.

I found a video the other day on 20booksto50k facebook page, and the guest was Becca Syme, of “Better – Faster” she’s a Gallup® Strengths Coach that coaches writers because she is a writer herself. That’s my take anyway. I didn’t read her about page yet but I’m assuming it’s so.

Anyway through her videos I thought hay… why don’t I just take this strengths test thing and see what mine are, because after listening to several of them I assumed I was a learner, or rather “Input” and an “Empath” and a few others that turned out to be wrong.

I was truly shocked and a little disappointed, well, that is until I found out what they were. Gallup has lots of videos on the different strengths. I am so happy I looked. I know I should be writing summaries here to give you all a taste of what this is all about but I am just so keyed up about all this and my bottom is sore from sitting, that…

Okay, My #1 strength is Connectedness, I am quoting one of the video’s show notes here:

“Connectedness is about anticipating and embracing the seen and unseen connection between all things. It is about being in-tuned to something beyond the immediate. There is an aspect of timelessness to this theme. People with Connectedness can be quite curious, but also quite aware. They have no problem accepting mysteries. They have a calm when things don’t make sense. They can move forward through that mystery.”

And this is so true. There is way more to it than that though, I just know things. That might be my #2 strength though; Ideation:

“Maika Leibbrandt 1:59 on Ideation

Here’s the short definition: “If you have Ideation as a dominant theme, you are fascinated by ideas. You’re able to find connections between seemingly disparate phenomena.” I’ve never seen those three words together anywhere else other than this short definition, but it is like tattooed to my own brain: “seemingly disparate phenomena,” meaning when things seem pretty different, you can see the link between them. The first truth of a strong team is how they handle conflict. “Conflict does not destroy strong teams, because strong teams focus instead on results.”

Here’s a link to the whole playlist, 6 seasons of videos if you are interested: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLxDaK7wIyw947k6hxvoPa4-DYMbgJZYNt

Anyway these are the two I’ve been learning about today, but not in the writer sense. I still want to learn how these impact my writing so I can write better – faster, so maybe this November I finally get a book out, at least a draft.

But how it relates to my about page is that close to the end I complain a little about people not getting my way of seeing things, and getting picked on about it because they don’t understand. Well now I know why and it’s okay, I feel better. I have a lot of healing to do but now I have a good explanation to start the healing process with.

By Evelyn Mitchell, January 2, 2015, originally written August, 2006; I think

The birds that had gathered on the lawn burst upward into a cloud of brown thunder as Phil slammed the door of his nice warm truck. He stares at the front door like its a million miles away. So far away, that even the lawn looks larger than usual. The smell of winter bites the inside of his nose as puffs of steam lag behind him in misty swirls that mark the long walk to the front door. The day is a rich blue twilight, a kind of agony to a man that lives for the long hot days of summer.

Phil pushes the front door open to a summerlike blast of hot moist air that makes him smile. All the lights in the house are on making it seem sunny, a most welcome illusion. He hears Sarah in the bedroom blow drying her hair. A hint of old-fashioned perfume and soap in the air builds a recreation in his mind of days gone by. He smiles at the memory of his mother getting ready for work while he pushes his coat in to the overburdened closet. Rubs his hands together briskly shaking off the residual chill in his shoulders and arms and in two strides sits to rest his back in his father’s old recliner, drifting on memories of childhood.

His mother would come into the living room wearing only a full slip and skirt, with half her rollers pulled out. The new curls bouncing with every step and both hands on the next roller to be removed, he could still hear her muffled voice as she would keep talking the whole time she was getting dressed. Making sure he knew everything he was supposed to do while she was at work. Every instruction repeated at least three times, accented by the Mom-look after each command that demanded the audible utterance of “Yes ma’am”.

Phil smiles at how clear the memories of his mother are, and is beginning to relive another one until… Sarah walks through the room pulling him from his reverie, making a point not to look at him, she just whips around the sofa turning her back to him, her hair flying in a sort of fan dance. He hears her clanging the classes and pouring herself something to drink.

“Going out?” He asks, as she walks out of the kitchen, sipping a glass of sparkling red wine. She throws another flip of her hair as she passes him, zipping around the sofa, back toward the bedroom. Phil furrows his brow in her direction as the dark hallway swallows her image. “What the heck; what’d I do now?” Phil wonders to himself, as her perfume fades from the air, “Sarah, what’s going on; what’d I do?” He yells into the darkness. The cold clattering sounds of dresser drawers and clanging hangers as Sarah gets dressed sends an ominous chill up his arms and down his spine, holding like two hot balls of fire in his feet. “Sarah?”

Sarah emerges from the hall red-eyed and stiff, yelling at the top of her lungs, “Just where do you think I’m going to go, Phil?”

Phil jumps out of his father’s recliner, grabbing Sarah’s keys.

“I have no earthly idea. You haven’t said a word to me since I got home. You’ve just been walking around flipping your hair pretending I’m not here.”

Sarah spins into a wide stance, her straight bouncy hair flairs out like a platter then rests, just barely reaching her shoulders in soft lines of gold and coffee brown, a stark contrast to Phil’s shiny black ringlets. She expands herself broad across the chest, then leaning into her voice, she screams “Why do I have to tell you? What’s the big deal about where I go; or if I talk to you? It’s not like you’re my Fa-ther!”

The silence lays heavy, as they just stare at each other.

Phil drops his gaze, flops back into the old chair breaking the awkward silence with a mournful creak from deep inside the chair, accented by the jangle of Sarah’s keys hitting the arm, loosely clutched between his thumb and fingers. Sarah steps toward him, Phil pulls the keys off the arm of the chair, dragging them to his lap, holding them a little tighter. Sarah stands over him her knees against the chair. Her sea green eyes, usually soft and beautiful stare sharply into him like lasers ready to cut at a moment’s notice.

Phil’s head drops slightly forward as he turns it to meet Sarah’s eyes. In a quiet but strong voice he says “Because I don’t like, not knowing where you are, or what you’re thinking. What if you get hurt, or have a wreck… or something? How do I know where to start looking?”

Sarah squats down at the side of Phil’s chair. The smell of her perfume is making him nauseous, He holds his stomach trying to stifle the nauseous expression he feels coming on his face. Then in a mock little girl voice say’s “Daddy can I please go over to Lucy’s house and play?” Phil looking through a flood into Sarah’s mock innocence, whispers “You bitch!” Tears run instantly from his heavy blue eyes as he turns his head away from Sarah to look out the window. An old memory of a day, very nearly like this winter day, is torturing his mind.

Sarah pulls the keys from Phil’s limp hand, while she stands taught, looking over him in a sort of empty victory. Then she walks over to the sofa just standing, with her back to Phil.

The silence is heavy and stifling. The moment seems to last an eternity.

Phil finally looks over at Sarah noticing that her shoulders are hung forward and her knees look as though they could buckle at any moment. Sarah is picking up her coat off the sofa. His eyes clear a bit as he begins to understand where tonight’s actions are coming from. Sarah does a half twist like a corkscrew, landing in a lump on the sofa. There is no sound only a constant stream of tears, effortless tears that can’t stop. Phil slides out of the recliner easing over to Sarah to touch her shoulder, she just remains empty. Phil breaks the silence in a whisper, “Sarah, I miss them too.” Phil puts both arms around his little sister in an effort to fix the hurt. Sarah begins to sob uncontrollably in loud bursts. Phil’s tears stream as he says “We’ll make it Sarah. We will get through this, together! It’s only been a year. I promise it will get easier”

Sarah flings her arms around her brother holding on tight, “I hope so Phil, God I hope so, I miss them so much. I just wanted to forget today. I thought if I went out, I would be able to let it pass without getting all upset. But that can’t happen, can it?” Phil in a quiet voice replies “It will, Sarah. In time it will.”

Original written on, August 19, 2006, posted on, November 6, 2019

Urgent Message!!!

In case you’d rather listen, the audio is a little over 8 minutes long.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the public,

I sincerely hope what you are about to hear is not true.

A team of scientists working on a secret project of global interest has uncovered what they believe to be a report dispatched from earth to a higher authority beyond our small galaxy.

Our sources have indicated that the report you are about to read is in response to a recent bit of information, regarding the cover up of space flight through the radiation-dense “Van Allen Belt” a short distance from the planet. The following is said to be the translation of the report the scientists managed to intercept nearly six years ago, but have just recently discovered how to decipher the information it contained.

The first part of the report was missed before interception began therefore it begins in mid-thought.

The Intercepted Report:

“…however in an effort to ‘gradually’ awaken the inhabitants of earth to the reality of their situation. It was essential to fabricate certain ideologies and myths. First to pull them from their slumber of blindly following command and ritual; to one of a non-present entity yet is all seeing.

Once this was established the illusion of freedom became the next hurdle. Many instruments were used; as in, forms of technology broadening the minds of the inhabitants with a sense of superior qualities, the instruments of war, and science combined, helped accomplish this task, as well as keeping the new-comers to a minimum through duty, therefore moral, destruction, at an age that they are the most impressionable as well as bold with true willingness.

Inhabitants follow willingly to our many experiments; as I am sure you are aware. Yet they express a desire and drive to govern themselves. As un-palatable as this sounds, just now, it may be an important step in the rehabilitation process, or their self-destruction.

On the other hand…

The council has been informed that certain classified information about planet earth has become known among the inhabitants, but is not yet accepted by most.

The inhabitants are expressing an early potential for the true thinking and are aware that they have a limited experience on the planet that doesn’t fit the way they are made; quite simply many know they have the capacity for considerably longer life than is allotted them. They further know that much of their brain is locked and that their capacity for understanding is likely enormous. A few of them have been able to unlock some portions of their brain, but at this point, exploit such abilities at the edge of disbelief to the amazement of some and the rebuke of many of their fellow inmates.

It is this observer’s opinion that the inhabitants of earth may be becoming aware of the truth. It is further this observer’s opinion that it may yet, be to early, as many inmates continue their destructive habits even with the rudimentary abilities and limited progress they are permitted.

The more recent discovery by a few on this planet of what they call the “Van Allen Belt” has instilled a sense of urgency in two of my fellow observers as well as myself, insofar as we think it is wise to divert attention away from the perimeter gate they call the “Van Allen Belt” to other issues concerning their immediate circumstances and the state of personal welfare upon the planets surface.

It is our concern that should they realize the true nature of the planet earth as a disguised penal colony for this quadrant, they may also discover how to fully unlock their prison and continue with even more vigor the destructive process they had originally embarked upon before their incarceration into our people’s primitive form.

I beg the council’s indulgence to call a meeting of observers, so a more energetic plan may be formulated to slow the process, before further awakenings can take place ahead of schedule.”

End of Report

*    *    *    *    *

The observer sending this report is unknown, but we suspect he may appear as one of us. In a position of moderate standing that has a unique and intimate perspective of how a large number of us live our lives right down to the items we take to the curb.

©By Evelyn Mitchell, 10/13/2019

I didn’t get this lesson in the usual way granddaughters are given lessons from their grandmothers. Mine was a hard realization that changed my perspective on what people do with the lessons they learn. It sharpened my skill of observation when I revisit the people I’ve taught. It trained me to see more clearly the genius in them, to use what they are given, to make what they have work for them. A trait my grandmother didn’t have but passed on to me none-the-less.

In case you’d rather listen, the audio is a little under 8 minutes long.

How My Grandmothers Lesson for Folding Towels Taught Me another Lesson for Life

My Grandmother, God rest her soul. She taught me how to fold towels so they hang nice on the towel bar.

Her method is to lay them out flat then fold the sides to the center to make a nice crisp tri-fold,  that wouldn’t have any edges showing except at the ends where the pretty detail could be displayed, then fold lengthwise half way to put on the towel bar. Then for putting them into the linen closet she instructed me to fold them in half then in half again keeping the trifold intact for quick delivery to the bathroom towel bar after cleaning and collecting the old dirty ones for the laundry.

I studiously adopted her method and have been folding my towels as she instructed my whole young life. Proud of how beautiful they hang on my towel bar. So even though over the years the edges fray just a little and a thread or two peeks out, no one notices because my grandmother showed me how to make them look crisp and new.

I was folding the towels, just as she showed me, on a day she happened to be visiting. As she watched me work she started looking a little agitated, and then finally she asked, who taught me to fold towels like that. I proudly exclaimed that she did. She got all red faced and pursed her lips; “I never showed you that, it’s not how I fold towels.” I stood there with such a blank look on my face, and then she went on. “I never taught you to wrap the towel around the front of you like an apron letting the edges just flop over.” That should have made me laugh, but it didn’t, I was devastated, it hurt my feelings so much that she couldn’t see the basic lesson was still there and the outcome of a neat crisp towel on the towel bar had been accomplished.

Although I tried to argue with her, she couldn’t see how I could be right. Because in actuality she didn’t teach me to wrap the towel around my body, she taught me to use a flat surface. I had to adapt her method to the situation I found myself in most frequently when I was doing the laundry. Either the surfaces were too small, or already taken up by folded laundry, or other things. So rather than trying to move everything to fold 3 or 4 towels I just used the only surface available at the time… me.

If she hadn’t seen me folding towels that day she never would have known that I adapted her method of folding towels, and she would have continued to smile when she saw the pretty towels hanging in my clean bathroom.

Now I think to myself how sad it is that people are so set in their ways or methods of doing things that the adaptations one has to make, to accomplish the same goal, is met with such disappointment or hostility that it taints what should have been a beautiful memory, in this case, of a lesson taught by a grandmother to her granddaughter, for the rest of their lives.

I do laugh now, but by the same token, it has taught me another lesson. It taught me that as I go through life teaching people how to do things, I keep in mind that they may need to make adjustments or adaptations to get the same results. So I can be content that the core lesson is still intact, and I can be prouder still, that they can think for themselves, and that they thought enough of what I taught them to keep it and just change it enough, to make it work for them and their situation.

Thank you Grandma, I love you.

Okay you may be wondering what’s the difference between change and adapt, well the dictionary description says it concisely.

As verbs the difference between change and adapt

…is that change is to become something different while adapt is to make suitable; to make to correspond; to fit or suit; to proportion.

Alternative thoughts on the “Rib theory” for how Adam and Eve came to be.

©By Evelyn Mitchell, 9/9/2019

Could it be that the “Rib theory” is wrong?

What if… Adam was pulled from Eve through her throat, making Adam the inside out of Eve? Dividing the one into two, but opposite beings. Then perhaps, God, did a little manipulative sculpting, putting the internal reproductive organs on the outside of the body in two parts, the ovaries, and fallopian tubes toward the back for seed production, and the canal with the cervix on the end to the front for seed delivery, which left the uterus sort of squished and suspended at the base of the pelvic floor between the pubic bones about half way outside the body. God’s not wasteful so it became the prostate, and then filled in the canal with the endometrium that in the woman was used for child bearing.

The breasts had to go somewhere so Adam was stretched wider at the chest and shoulders to make room inside for the extra bulk, and the muscles that once held them up now holds them in. The nipples remain as a reminder of his origin, and their connection to the sustainability of life, and as such he is endowed with all their sensitivities, but since he is now Eve’s opposite, he is spared the burden of producing milk.

Now Adam was a mess and raw from the experience, so God took pity and proceeded to fix him up smooth out all the bumpy sensitive bits, wrapping him in tough skin layers and amped up the testosterone so he’d be warmer which also negated the cyclic schedule that is still the nature of Eve. With ovaries, and fallopian tubes all on the outside now, and the uterus nearly so, there was some wasted space in the pelvic area, so God in her infinite wisdom decided to stretch up and narrow down the pelvic and hip bones; he wouldn’t be birthing babies anyway, so why not make Eve a little more comfortable when he does his husbandly duties. Oh and God left the tiny lump at Adams throat as proof of where she held him as she worked.

Though this is fantasy, anyone who has had Anatomy and Physiology, and can forget about all the different dogmas surrounding creation for a second or two, can see how this might be. It is true that all fetuses start their growth as female. They do not start masculinization until 10 weeks, which is complete at about 12 to 14 weeks.

As we have discovered over the years the seed of Adam struggles to enter inside the seed of Eve, essentially going back into his origin, which, when things are just right produces another being.