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Upselling, Poverty, Alters and Shame


I went to a store to pick up a specific lotion which doesn’t bother my somewhat sensitive skin. I am not a store browser. I am not a crowd person. I have a list, an agenda, I want to walk in, buy it and head back home. I begin to feel irritation when this happens:

Ma’am, you know today we have 40% off these lotion primers.”

Primers? Who the hell has time to put lotion on to prepare for putting more lotion on? I keep Maude’s voice quiet in my head so it doesn’t reach my lips. She immediately reacts at ridiculous ideals, often turning us into an articulate smartass.

Oh, well, thank you,” I reply kindly to the attendant. “but I’ll pass today.”

The store attendant continues to go through the long drawn out process that seems to be involved in selling one small bottle of lotion.

You haven’t had to deal with this long wait with any of the other chicks before.” Maude taunts in my head.

Maybe she’s new.” I telepathically reply back firmly. “Don’t start this shit now.”

More customers have formed a line behind me; four or five humanoids deep. I breathe. I count three round things around me. I numerically reduce a price tag. I grasp at grounding to get through a purchase that is quickly becoming lengthy.

Oh!” The attendant exclaims, as if something extraordinary just happened. “I forgot to tell you!”

What, like, everything is free today?” I sarcastically think to myself.

These lotions are 3 for 40 dollars!” She points to a shelf of numerous, strategically lined-up lotions. “They are extracted from the finest trees in some tropical island somewhere, mixed with leaves of plants from some other tropical island and make the skin expand until the body looks like that of a first year college student who ate carrots all of her life and ran five miles a day…” I am making up my own story, tuning out as she drones on.

Maude starts laughing.

Don’t!” I think, because when she laughs  it begins a chain reaction, and I’m striving to stay composed.

Knowing steps forward, speaking quietly and comfortingly. She is in therapist mode.

Dear, I understand that upselling is a part of your job, and I respect that. What I’d like for you to consider is that when people like me don’t have the money to buy extra things, and we have to continue to say no, it puts us in shame. So in front of all these people in line behind me waiting while you try to sell me things I’ve repeatedly said no to, plainly, I’ll just go ahead and tell you that I am broke and cannot afford more lotions. Does that help you?

The attendee’s face turns a bright shade of embarrassed red.

Sorry.” She mumbles.

It’s okay.” Knowing replies softly. “Just think about it next time, please. Take the first ‘no’ you receive as an indication someone might not have extra money, and don’t give into guilt marketing to get people to impulse buy even though that’s what your boss wants you to do.

I know we have slightly embarrassed her as she silently finishes my transaction. A couple of people smile at me when I walk away, passing them, as if I said what they often want to say.

I feel a sense of guilt. I’ve been in the upselling position years ago when I worked a second job at a retail store. It feels exactly like begging. It is uncomfortable. It is often being tracked by cameras and/or other employees. It’s required by corporate rules of retail. It’s success is rewarded with employee commissions applauding successful guilting of someone into buying, which they usually do just so the sales person will shut the hell up.

In today’s society, asking for help in, general, makes people look at the one in need as if they are an unstable beggar, but those same people often don’t see when businesses train their employees in strategically begging customers to buy products because it’s just “upselling“.

So to all the poor who have to swallow your pride and ask for help to just repeatedly hear “no“, or be judged and kicked down when you need support, remember, you’re not a beggar, you’re just upselling the needs in your life. If businesses can do it, so can we.

Remember to upsell your needs as if it is the most exciting thing that could ever happen.

GUESS WHAT??? Coolest thing ever! My electricity is going to be off in a week! You get the BEST deal on helping someone. YEAH!

GUUUURRRLLLL have I got a SMASHING offer for you! My broke down truck! A mere – 1100 dollars! Wha wha??? Could be MUCH more at the dealership! Told you this was a good deal! Booyah!”

To the meth addict on the corner, you’re not a drug addict. You’re merely upselling a medication need. To the veteran holding a cardboard sign asking for money or food, you are not a beggar. You are simply upselling the failure of America to give a shit about your life.

In fact, to all of us who need support and help, we will NEVER beg another day in our life. Instead, let us take what we have learned from corporate America, that we have the right to cease being looked at as beggars and instead, accept that we are merely  up selling our needs.

That’s how problems don’t get solved and mind manipulation happens; when humans have been made to believe that the poor are just lazy but the swindling up selling from corporate America is an apparent genius commission competition between a salesperson and a potential victim buyer.

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Dear Nichol,


When I saw my brother today he had a gift for me. His friend, who cleans out apartments, had given it to him. He said as soon as he saw it, he knew it was for me.

It is so special to me when I am thought of in such perfectly eccentric ways. This is a great example of the energetic mindfulness that is important for me to have with those I am connected to.  My brother and I have such a connection.

I immediately fell in love with the beauty of the leather, the laughing tiger hand carving, and the journal’s lovely buckle closure.


What I didn’t expect was the inscription on the inside flap.


Should I know how to find her, I’d place this piece of art back into Nichol’s hands. The inscription from her friend told me so much about her. I saw her smile, the deep secrets held in her dark eyes, the way she uses pen sketches to avoid thinking and how much she was being encouraged to write.  What a special gift.  

I have a leather bound journal that was gifted to me for a birthday.  I write in it often. I cherish that journal.  It made me wonder if Nichol thinks of this journal and misses if. 

Since I cannot find her, I’ve decided to honor Nichol in the hopes that one day, synchronicity will place this journal back into her hands, and she will delight that I have filled it with letters to her. She found her way into my journey, and I have much to share, so that when it returns to her, she will understand what she always felt was missing.

This journal will be entitled “Dear Nichol”.  I will sketch and tell her my secrets in rhymes and moments of scattered, cursive ranting. She will see my parts through my handwriting changes, sometimes all capitals and formal, other times curved and smooth.  It will find its way through its own journey carrying deep parts of my vulnerability, and only one who will be privileged to hold it in their own hands, will ever know its contents. 

Dear Nichol, welcome to my life. You reminded me today to get through it, but don’t stay in it.

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When Cult Members Attack


Peeling off layers of truth about growing up in a cult which still exists has also released an influx of opinion, perspective, experience and much more from those who were also involved in this cult. 

Since first publishing “Cult Child”, I’ve been examining the ways in which my fellow cult survivors have reacted to my publication. Now that I am speaking out more vocally on forums such as the radio, they are seemingly reacting more.

One of the main observations I’ve gathered is that those who were older when the cult began, have a differing perspective than those of us who were either children taken into the program or born into the cult, with those same adults being either our parents, caregivers and/or present and influencing adults.

 We children have a differing set of circumstances as we witnessed and experienced horrible abuses. The adults who doled out or stood by and did nothing live in deep denial, often lashing out, calling us liars and being accusatory. 

When I say adults, some of them were in their early twenties and participating in the severe beating and abuses of children. I see them for where they stand, deeply mentally ill and having to carry the horror of what they either did to children or did not do to help them. 

Just as we victims carry the images of what was done to us, likewise our abusers must carry the images of what they did and/or witnessed.

Another way that I am attacked is individuals leaving poor starred reviews on my book where they can. Luckily Amazon requires one to be a purchaser of a product for the review, so in the least, I get a small compensation for having to be re-abused and attacked for telling the truth about my abuse. 

I am not one to be intimidated by gang stalkers. When they call me a liar, I ask them which farm they grew up on? Who did they know? Were they a child? Who were their parents? What specifics can they give to prove, first off, that they were a part of the cult at all. After all, one must have been there, to factually call me a liar. 

Furthermore, if they were not on the exact same compounds as I was, they can speak nothing of my life or the experiences of my family. Since stories of abuses have come from every compound Sam Fife and his cronies created, then I ask, if the person was an adult, why they did nothing to turn in the child abusers? So, this attack is easily lain to rest for me.

Another avenue that is used, is to say that I am out for money, made from the backs of other people who suffered in the cult as well. First, aren’t most authors hoping to make a living from writing, after all, writing is our passion? Why then are we not allowed to make a living from what we are bestowed to do? 

Secondly, when one reads “Cult Child”, it takes but one page turn to understand that this is the story of me and my family. Every story contained in the first book of this set, yes, there’s a sequel coming, is related, and pertains directly to my family. 

However, if I chose to write a book telling the stories of others who survived, I have the legal right to do so. It is not, however, my intention. Not just because their stories are not mine, but because I have other projects that I look forward to delving into. So, this attack is easily lain to rest for me.

My family owns the originals of all photos which are contained in my books. If you happen to be in one of those photos, luckily for you, I chose to blur faces. Luckily for you, there is a disclaimer in the front of my book that states I have changed names for privacy and liability purposes. 

Luckily for me, I am well informed, have consulted an entertainment attorney before publishing and scoff at the ideal that anyone related to Sam Fife’s Move of God thinks they in any way hold any rights to the story or photos containing and relating to my family.

As for the statements made about me that return in the circle that is my support network, I somehow feel a great sorrow, for old people who make statements that we children were seductive, leaving me to understand that the pedophilistic mindset this cult built its roots on, still exists today. 

It amazes me most that our abusers never stopped to consider we would grow up one day. Did you not think we would have a voice? Did you not think we would have something to say? 

You don’t get to say “Yes, it was bad and all but…”. There’s no “but” which follows sexual abuse, demon possession casting out rituals, beliefs in end times, beatings, sadistic mental manipulation, sleep deprivation, brainwashing, demonology, spanking of babies, Old Testament animal sacrifice (Ware, MA) and more. 

You see, I am not alone in this truth. I just happen to be the most outspoken. We children are now adults in a gathered tribe, quietly supporting one another, and we are large in numbers.

The network of survivors is so vast that the messages I get which are attacking of me, either myself or someone I know, remembers the person doing the attacking. These people were adults or elders children, seeking to silence the truth about the hidden horrors of Sam Fife’s Move of God. 

It never fails to be consistent, that those who step forward to attack me were in some way an abuser, worked in a nursery where they could abuse children, were mean spirited, witnessed the abuse of children, and did nothing. Now, they have grown into bitter, self-righteous things who remain the same abusive evil they were when I was a child. 

You don’t think we remember you, the things you said and did? Nothing has changed in regards to your existence, except now, you don’t get to silence me. And you won’t. Abuse is silent. You will never abuse me again.

EDIT 11/25/16: For those who took part in the free download of “Cult Child”, thank you.  For those who missed it, sign up at: http://VennieKocsis.com to be notified of the dates for the next free download days.  There will be one 5 month. Thank you for such an immense interest this month!  I am honored that you are interested in understanding the cult abuse of children. 


 

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An Open Letter From Cathy O’Brien 


TRUTH EVOLUTION

“My name is Cathy O’Brien. Mark Phillips and I are 25 year veteran US Government Whistleblowers on the subject of mind control and healing from it.

Mind control is a sliding scale from the kind of robotic MK Ultra mind control I endured during the Reagan-Bush Administration to mass mind control social engineering through deliberate suppression of truth and manipulation of information. We all formulate our thoughts, opinions and ultimately action based on what we think we know, and we Need to Know that our knowledge base has been altered to fit the agenda of a global elite hellbent on world domination.  

Think for a moment. Open your minds and expand your thought to consider the reality that mind control is the ultimate WMD of the global elite. Mind control is a TOP SECRET weapon system being used on and by the US military. The human brain responds to mind control and/or trauma the same way regardless of the level of intensity with resultant PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

Mark and I are in the process of releasing our self help manual of the steps Mark taught me for healing from decades of torturous robotic mind control and subsequent PTSD. It is today’s Truth Evolution that has empowered us to release these easy-to-apply methods that are otherwise suppressed from mental health and society as a whole. It is the antidote to violence, trauma, repressed thought and, above all, for our PTSD military veterans in need of reclaiming control over their minds and lives.

If I can reclaim free thought, free will, peace of mind and soul expression after decades of torture, trauma, abuse, and highest level military programming, so can you. These keys to healing that intelligence insider Mark Phillips taught me are now available to you in our concise self-help manual ‘PTSD: Time to Heal’. These are the same methods we continue to teach leading mental health professionals worldwide, and that global outcry has demanded. It is about Time! The Truth Evolution has begun.

My experience in MK Ultra provided me deep insight into CIA Pentagon/White House level criminal covert funding mechanisms for what Adolph Hitler and George Bush termed the New World Order. This included taking over cocaine and heroin operations worldwide as we opened our borders under the illusion of NAFTA. Mind control slavery, and the deliberate takeover of the minds of the masses through video games, movies, television, music, Common Core “education”, and above all national trauma like 9-11 and imposed violence/mass shootings, were implemented for ushering in this agenda of an elite self-appointed few. Arm yourself with the facts and look into the reason why Bush-Clinton dynasties were being forced upon u.s. all through our controlled media, contrived polls and rigged elections.

Awareness is the first step toward positive necessary change, whether it is personally freeing our minds from subconscious manipulation or restoring freedoms to u.s. all.

‘PTSD: Time to Heal’ are the methods I used to reclaim self control written in a way that empowers you to rise above socially engineered fears and violence. Our PTSD military vets have waited decades for the diagnosis of PTSD to even emerge as a recognized mental health disorder, yet they do not have to wait any longer for the antidote. Not only does PTSD: Time to Heal free minds through self application, it allows for self control free of labels, drugs, and backlash from those striving to suppress truth as they struggle to maintain their last remnants of control over u.s. all. Know your own truth in order to recognize truth in our world today.

‘PTSD: Time to Heal’ can restore peace of mind and ultimately peace in society. It teaches how to consider other perceptions and think further than what we are told. It empowers the ability to stop the past from intruding on the present through intrusive memory flashes, undermining of goals, and/or night terrors. It arms you with the ability to consciously rise out of deeply entrenched/programmed thought patterns, to expand perceptions, and “Voice No Negatives Without a SOULution”. It stops the war within once and for all through restoration of inner peace and self control.

The Truth Evolution is on! Stop the violence and arm yourself with Truth that makes u.s. free!

http://www.TRANCE-Formation.com

‘TRANCE Formation of America’ is compiled testimony for US Congressional Permanent Select Committees on Intelligence Oversight released in book-form when the 1947 National Security Act was invoked on our case. The legal principals of TRANCE are now being taught globally in major universities and in is law libraries world wide.  

‘ACCESS DENIED For Reasons of National Security’ tells our journey to survive to become US Government Whistleblowers, is a testament to the strength of the human spirit and power of love, and was written for the people in manner that empowers through truth that makes us free.

‘PTSD: Time to Heal’ is yours for reclaiming control over your own minds, lives, and freedom. It inspires inner peace, which is the first step toward world peace.”

CLICK HERE TO PICK UP YOUR COPY OF “PTSD: TIME TO HEAL” – currently $12.00 + shipping

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The Runner


You see, every time I fall you leave, and I am here, bandaging new wounds, layering on salve to make the pain dispel.  

You have a story for every empty space. I sit with black abysses in mason jars, overlooked, a puppeteer with the strings cut. You can’t understand the intricacy of these caves. Your legs cannot withstand the waves. So, I run away. 

Leaving has always been easy. I found happy a home in the woods where we roam alone. Strength has gathered. Sight is so keen there are sometimes too many dimensions being gleaned. Another memory for the pages. More words for the prose. 

I become a memory incapable of duplication; that “crazy girl” you used to know, until one day you looked up, stunned at how high she would rise.  

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Quiet Compulsions


I have a compulsion that I’m going to reveal.  It’s something that naturally happens in my mind.  It doesn’t stress me out, particularly.  I do it in seconds. I do it every day, all day long.  It doesn’t interfere with my life, as I see it, mainly because I can do it so quickly and as of now, I don’t search out the formula just so I can do it. However, when the formula arrives it is definitely going to happen in my mind. 

A common place I do it this is in traffic or if I have to stand in lines, wait in a doctor’s office, doing it with the magazine from the waiting room, my phone, anywhere that the formula exists to allow the compulsion, it will happen. 

I’ll use a license plate as a simple example: 

XKY369

3 + 6 = 9 + 9 = 18 

1 + 8 = 9 

Single Reduction: 9

Every day, anytime I encounter number series I immediately, within seconds, reduce them to a single number.  There is never a time I will not do it.  I don’t fight the urge to do it.  I suppose the answer would be of what reaction would I have if I tried not to do it.  Why frustrate myself, in my opinion.  Reduce and move on. 

You’re one step further into my brain. 

Do you have quiet compulsions?  Are you comfortable sharing them?

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Abstract Aberration


The Original One wavers, lazily sleeping, snacking and avoiding. Might I silence the fire, burning and buzzing in the spine? We run into the trails, avoiding the undergrowth of tree roots pushing their way through the ground.  We grab at leafy branches.  She’s an avalanche avoiding her own rubble.   Sideways in the gradients lingering around our eyes, the shadows whisper.  They run beside us, and we wonder if we are shadows to them, dark echoes leaning against their eyelids.  Where do we go when the pressure explodes and the heart is torn?  Where do we scream the aftermath? Into pillows, the skies or buried inside?

Words. We create language for the anguish.  The Brave One stands in her place, warrior and explorer of the past.  She will find answers for the empty spaces.  Don’t fear the faces.  Look into their eyes.  Don’t cry.  We stand beside oceans, gazing through windows of waves.  One day the illusions will pass and the pieces of the flashes will merge into view.   We  see truth for what it is, a planted alibi to cover every lie the truth hides, and humans will bend at their knees to kiss the feet of the malevolent just for a promise of heaven.

The Dark One peers, silently into the whispers, always with us, there are none who can attack our back.  It is revealed in instances, and she chuckles, amused at the minions.  Might she cut open the simulated empathy being used as weaponry by the mind swindlers?  Taking a piece of each, she throws their banter into the dark matter, and turning her face, strides away.  There are days when she is habitual, residual and invisible.  There are moments she is unaffected, stone faced and solid, looking at the rejected faces of the displaced, with malice.

They are an inconsequential waste to this place and should die off, jump cliffs and return into nothingness.”

The Wise One watches, taking in the whole of their life, assessing and regressing into the violet of her quiet.  Traveling back, she brings the messages so they can know the next step.

Nothing is permanent.” She says. “Stay inside the moments.”

We hold hands in the color tunnel where the memories funnel in.  We rewind back, watching the past, progress to the present and the continual disturbance.  The film strip plays sporadically and without warning, disarms the army.  We didn’t morph into what was intended.  We’ve pretended for years, watching you, and now we see all the way through.  You’ve been duped.

(cover art by Simona Ruscheva “MPD” oil on canvas)