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About Me

Found 4 results

  1. Over time I have noticed when I begin to be "taken over" by an unknown force of creativity. First it was one song, then another, then another, and on it went for years. And years. Now it's 16 or so more years later and I figured I would share some of these 50+ "songs". Not sure why, as these posts are certain to evoke more criticism than anything else. Yet, I challenge the status quo. If I am afraid of showing myself as I am behind closed doors, then why worry about even attempting to be on camera for anything else? How many other people have been channeling songs for many decades, but never really "thought" about what it actually was. Maybe they were daydreaming. Maybe they were channeling. Does it really matter? Beauty comes from within. Share it with abandon and watch it grow. If there's one thing people respect, its courage. Naturally, I need to credit creative forces. In this "song" that was one of a kind (I never record the same song the same way twice) there are 3 main influences. The first energy is the one that took me over and caused me to hit the record button. That's the first tune we hear less than one minute into the "song". 3 expressions later, this version was recorded. I've noticed the first recording is always the most magical, the second recording the most practical, and the 3rd recording a sort of agreement, or amalgation of takes 1 and 2. The first is inspired, the second is corrected and controlled thought, the 3rd is a compromise. The second influence was the "ba-dum ba-duh-dum. Ba-dum ba-dum-bu. Bad dah ba-bum dum-bm... dah ba dah-bum ds bah-dum, bum da ba dum boo da bum... (70's song) The 3rd was Luttrell. If you've never heard of him, here's a song: (thats what inspired the 3rd part of this song) That's it. All I've got to say. No fear of expression, only fear of growing. Of Knowing. "Channeling Singing VIDEO" : https://www.facebook.com/573806085/videos/10157548667431086/ K.J.C.
  2. What if every thought we have is in another dimension. And each time we think a thought we create multiple copies. Multiple universes. Infinite universes. Every time we think the SAME thought we are creating many copies of that universe. And once there are enough copies in enough universes they begin to resonate off each other. They start to layer, one upon another. Like the reflections in a singer's microphone feeding back into the speaker. The most dominant thoughts win. The most repeatedly occurring thoughts begin to refine themselves into a wave. The beauty of the whole becomes glory in its singular form. It is not singular, but there are enough echoes of it for it to think to itself that it is singular. Technical Note: White noise is a representation of all, of the whole. When viewed as a whole it is meaningless. However, if you use a filter to only listen to a narrow band of sound, you will hear a tone. Was the tone already there? Does it have more energy than it did before? No. It represents itself as a singular tone. Just like microphone feedback - it is not singular in its first reiteration, or its second, or third.... A composite over time is what creates physical reality, more or less the atoms come together when their master calls. When the dominance of one particular thought, or feeling, or imagination of a large group of people resonates - some of it will appear in its purest composite form. And much of it will be distorted. And these thoughts.....they begin to become physical to us now.
  3. At first I didn't quite fit in to my choir class in the eleventh grade. Reading notes was hard, I had already learned to tune to music by ear. After all, I had grown up thinking that was how music was played - by ear. At first I sang bass. Try as I could, I had a hard time projecting low notes. They just didn't seem to fit my vocal range. Yet I couldn't seem to reach the high notes sang by the tenors. Oh how I longed to sing as high as the tenors! Most rock singers sing very high, and I would later come to find that there is a reason for this - their voices pierce the sound range above the rest of the instruments which allows them to be heard. And I wanted to be heard. One of the days I looked forward to most as a young teenager was the day our high school choir would sing for a Christmas evening in front of a crowd.. More than anything, I desired to be approved of by my parents, to be cherished for something special I could contribute. Maybe they would see something good and express their appreciation for me...maybe they would see....me for who I really am! My performance did not have the outcome I had expected. There were no balls of glitter floating from the ceiling, no cherubims blowing trumpets from all corners of the concert hall. The love I yearned for in that very special way would not come from my parents, yet I found great satisfaction in performing. This experience left an indelible impression upon me. i was never the same after that event..This was...pure joy. This was...happiness. From that day forward I sang from my heart - with a different perspective. I had a new angle. there was no reason to sing just to be loved. When I sang..., I sang for joy. The song below was "channeled" during the evening this blog was written. Like most songs that come through, it was almost wordless- except for one phrase..."Over Los Angeles" It reminds me of "Battle of Los Angeles" in 1942. https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Los_Angeles Do you have similar experiences? Comment below! 22821_sing_channeled_overdub_Over_Los_An.wav
  4. There are two passions in my life. ..music and work with "spirit" (paranormal). Music was first. By the age of 5 you could hear me singing to records on a Fisher Price record player. They were mostly Christian records, Christian gospel...and some were recordings like the Disney movies Bambi and The Fox and The Hound. As children my sister and I sang in church, once we even performed a duet on stage. It was a joy to sing at the top of my lungs. It was one of the few things I enjoyed about church, living here at the southernmost tip of the Bible Belt in Florida. My childhood was difficult for me, a strange mix of love and confusion. As an adopted child my sister and I were the second set of children that our parents chose to bring into their lives. We were well-provided for physically, we never lacked for necessities. On the mental and psychological side though - there were challenges. Our parents never knew what to make of us. Much of our childhood was spent grounded, punished for one thing or another. We spent more time punished than not. Punishment entailed sitting on the floor in our bedrooms- doing nothing. Nothing was the only thing allowed - that was the punishment. The word "STRICT" would be an understatement. As a result I spent much of those younger years alone. The first time I received several cassette tapes and a Walkman for Christmas I thought my mother had lost it. What had possessed her to perform such a radical non-conservative act? Had she felt a moment of weakness, a moment of kindness? Was it an last minute purchase or was it a miscalculation? Rock music was a part of the "secular" music genre as we Christians called it at the time. Holding those cassettes in my hand I wondered what had happened to make me feel lucky. What does a child do while sitting on a floor in a room by themselves day after day during punishment? Well..my sister and I....We both dreamed. We dreamed of everything we could be, everything we thought we didn't have. Everything we wanted. There were other ways to pass the time. Count the popcorn nuggets on the ceiling. Trace the patterns in the carpet with your finger and mind and memorize them. Talk to yourself. And cry. There was a lot of crying in those days. Over the years I would sneak a book from the bookshelf and methodically shift all the books so that their missing place would not be noticed on the family bookshelf. I read encyclopedias sets several times. We owned the Encyclopedia Brittanica and Funk & Wagnalls. Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, and even an entire Western collection by Zane Grey were other notable favorites that I stole one at a time and absorbed like a sponge, devouring every page. It was much more exciting when it wasn't allowed. And...there were songs. I would take the cassette backing from cassette tape cases and hide them away under my bed. When nobody was around I would read those lyrics, and sing the song to myself, over and over again. This was comforting to me - music. In those moments, while reliving the song in my mind, I was happy. It wasn't until 11th grade that I was first introduced to the concept of musical notes. All this time I had thought people simply memorized a song because they had good memory cognition. Who would have thought that music followed a pre-defined structure? Mr Reeves, my choir teacher, was responsible for this great eye-opener. He taught me how to sing, how to make harmony, how to blend. Out of all of my classes - choir was my favorite. I had fallen in love...with music. It was, and will always will be my first love. With music I had felt free of the chains of life and sadness. This would become my first introduction to the effects of a symphony upon the tired weary soul. It was the first time that I realized...music must be from heaven! The song below "came through" during the writing of this first blog post. Its one of many songs that seem to pour through me when in an altered state. Like most, it has few words. The structure appears first, and sometimes even words. I share it here as an act of baring my soul...and to see how many of you just might feel the same way about some of the feelings expressed here. Share with us what music means to you. Are you inspired in similar ways? What do YOU make of this tired and sometimes dreary world? How would you describe your experience? Comment below. Let it all hang out! 022821_Song_Channeled_We_Will_Grow.wav
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