Patrick Amoroso, March 3, 2019
The best travelogue on America since John Steinbeck’s “Travel with Charley: In Search of America” almost 60 years ago. And although much has changed in the meantime, for the worse, John Steinbeck’s past America has a striking resemblance with Patrick’s America on the eve of the ascension. Or to quote Steinbeck: “I wonder why progress looks so much like destruction.”
But he also writes: “We value virtue but do not discuss it. The honest bookkeeper, the faithful wife, the earnest scholar get little of our attention compared to the embezzler, the tramp, the cheat.” And this is what Patrick has also discovered in the dark heart of the Empire of Evil – the good hearts of the ordinary awakening Americans who are ready to help a stranger.
But while Steinbeck’s travelogue is entirely three-dimensional, although he admits that “a sad soul can kill you quicker, far quicker, than a germ”, Patrick’s travelogue is, on the contrary, transcendental and multidimensional on the background of the bleak and dreary landscape of New England. That much has changed in the world since then and we, the PAT, take pride in being instrumental for this gargantuan energetic transformation of mankind and Gaia that is about to manifest anytime soon.
A highlight on this website and a time historical document of great import as to how America, and earth, once was and why we won’t “look back in anger” anymore after our ascension as it is done for ever – by us.
How to Create a Desired Reality
The following disquisition began its inception approximately three weeks ago as result of receiving a distribution of a capital account in the amount of $ 3500.00. I knew it would be forthcoming and upon further reflection decided to utilize this sum of money to purchase a used automobile. I have been without personal transportation for some twenty months due to my previous car having been destroyed by a bad repair. Given my immobility due to the advance symptoms of the LBP, I needed a means of travel for small grocery errands and my desire to see an ailing friend in addition to visiting my two sons who live north of me in the state of Maine, USA.
I considered my options and decided to conduct an internet search for a specific brand of automobile which I had owned approximately some twenty years ago. The following series of events encompass an approximate span of three weeks in duration and I will now attempt to reconstruct each instance with a special emphasis to be concentrated upon in the last week. The vehicle to be sought by me was a Lincoln Mark 7 LSC, 1988 model and perhaps one of the most finely engineered vehicles ever manufactured in the United States. Ar first, I spanned my locale in the Massachusetts region and found to my astonishment that there were a few offered for sale. However, they were quite beyond my financial capability and I decided that my task was not going to become manifest and I do remember uttering a private thought before retiring one night before going asleep, “ Oh, just one last drive in a LSC. “ Little did I know that events would soon follow which would put me on the path of realizing this intention but more importantly would provide me with the means to undergo a catharsis of transcendental and spiritual awareness which I am still processing as I write this discourse.
Shortly thereafter, perhaps within a few days, I decided to use EBay for a similar search of this desired vehicle, EBay’s extensive platform actually does allow for the selling and purchasing of used vehicles. However, these potential transactions are usually presented as an auction whereby interested parties bid against each other in small dollar increments only to have the entire process result in a forfeiture due to the bidders not realizing the seller’s reserve amount or what they have set as a bare minimum price that must be met. This schematic results in a lengthy and arduous proceeding that can last for weeks.
I decided not to enter this foray despite observing a few LSC vehicles which I could have afforded. And then out of nowhere, it happened. Perhaps 24 hours later I was scanning Ebay once more and, lo and behold, another LSC advertisement appeared. I noticed immediately that the seller had elected NOT to conduct an auction but simply had set a specified price. I read through his summary and reviewed the half-dozen pictures or so posted and concluded that this car was quite a deal and within reason as to what I could afford given the aforementioned funds that I now had in my account. I used the EBay messaging platform and wrote a simple introduction describing myself as a retired gentlemen with a slight disability (LBP symptoms, although certainly NOT identified as such). I advised that I had once been the owner of this very same vehicle some twenty years ago and had very fond memories of its comfort and in addition, I chose to be without a car for the last twenty months. An interactive and very friendly correspondence ensued and I offered a price somewhat below his set price, and he countered with us both meeting in the middle. The entire discussion process took less than three days of interactive discussion.
From my own understanding of this very unique automobile and in addition to what he provided me with concerning its upkeep, the 30 year old vehicle had been essentially rebuilt and glistened with a new paint job. The same vehicle in my professional opinion was at least 3 times the value of what I had paid. The great irony here is that I do remember meditating one night and certainly not about automobiles, BUT I do remember the thought crossing my mind before retiring to sleep and thinking “ Oh, Just one last ride in an LSC.” Little did I realize it at the time that the HR had heard my jestful plea and set in motion a series of events that not only provided me with a gift on the material plane BUT more importantly had provided me with an incentive and targeted itinerary which in its final analysis would allow me to conduct a massive cleansing of a very dark corridor of the Evil Empire, the USA across a wide spectrum of geography and known since its original colonizing of Europeans as distinct for its sordid financial and mercantile exploits.
The itinerant schedule did require for me to Rent-A Car for the day and I was privileged to have the assistance of a very dear and spiritually centered friend to help me in this scheduling. He took time from his very busy schedule with family to drive me to the Logan International Airport facility and I obtained a modern 2018 Nissan for my anticipated 250 mile trip.
It should be mentioned at the onset of this quest that upon a very deep and contemplative exercise in meditation, I invoked a plea to the HR that this entire journey be undertaken in the linear context of a timeline cloaked in a protective measure of my own choosing. My HS spurned me on to create an experiential dimension that would not in any manner be interfered with or invaded by any dark energies. Thus, I was assured that this sojourn would in all manner of experience be one of a pristine nature. Little did I know that this chosen endeavor would be guaranteed in all aspects that I had requested.
My intention at this point was to stay ahead of the forecasted snowstorm by traveling southward prior to its northerly 6 hour projection. For the record, I never saw a single snowflake although having not driven for 20 months, I found myself quite discomforted given the high-rise stature of the seats in the newer cars. I am a very cautious driver and stay well behind vehicles in front of me and well ahead of those tailgating me. The journey proceeded and I took well advantage of the numerous plaza-like rest stops for both refreshment and rest.
One hilarious episode of the trip was traveling through Hartford, CT, home of the American Insurance Behemoths and while doing so, I had the radio set to SCAN which allowed for the car radio to detect the most elevated frequencies of radio stations while traveling at 60 mph and suddenly, the station announced “This station is the home of the Rolling Stones“. I thought to myself what does this mean, And suddenly the guitar instruments and percussion drums began and the song, “Start Me Up” venued its entry with lead singer, Mick Jagger doing the honors. I found myself singing along with the “Mick” and during lapses in the lyrics, shouted “Go Mick “. Hmmm….. A Light Warrior of the First and Last Hour singing “ Start Me Up“.
Into The Belly of the Beast to be Followed by the Immersion of the IAM Presence
When leaving the Connecticut Interstate Highway and merging into the state of New York, one becomes aware of the great change from leisurely driving to that of a repetitive, fast and somewhat dangerous transition. Without warning, exit signs appear at very frequent intervals with new route numbers of compass directions so as to almost numb the driver with its information overload. I knew from my printing out directions before I departed home on my computer that I needed to get to the Burroughs and eventually to the Queens, area municipalities along the finger-like geographical projections of the New York Atlantic Ocean coastline.
After about 45 minutes, signs began to appear for the George Washington Bridge, the massive structure of cement and steel which is the transporting means of crossing over into New Jersey. I knew from my instructions that I need not cross over the bridge and I was to take the E378 Exit to the Queens perhaps a full five minutes before entering the onset of the George Washington Bridge. It should be mentioned that all along this route are 30-50 story tenement apartment complexes on both sides rising up from the street below encompassing a vast assembly of low-rent dwellings for New York’s poor and marginalized low-income citizens. Acre upon acre without let-up and leaves one with an appreciation for the many outrages of the 3D Matrix. It appeared more like a prison than a residential dwelling place. As I gazed upon this scene, I could not help but think that it was such a sterile atmosphere, devoid of trees and all manifestation of gaiety. These structures are similar to the actual holdings of Jared Kushner, son-in-law to President Trump since his family started their real estate empire with the accumulated consolidation of such facilities to what constitutes the term ’slumlord‘. Trump too held such complexes in the past.
It is at this point that my sojourn enters a new phase and the HR now are guiding me. To enter the initial onset onto the George Washington Bridge is an experience that can only be described as Kafkaesque. A mile or so before you see the great suspension cables, the driver enters a cave-like granite structure rising a 100 feet on both sides of 4 lane traffic with sounds of horns, screeching brakes and the ever-present carbon aroma of diesel and gas driven engines. Interspersed between this concentration of steel and granite, panhandlers street people walk between cars with hands extended and coffee cans held outward hoping to secure a few dollars or loose change from their captive benefactors. I thought contemplatively and this conundrum in the nation that prides itself in being the richest nation on earth .
And THEN it happened. I came to the exit that I knew I had to take before pursuing any further onto the George Washington Bridge AND decided to continue in defiance of what I knew would only take me into New Jersey. I cannot explain it but I knew intuitively that I must allow this soul-inspired departure of my original directions.
As I crossed over the bridge into the state of New Jersey, I immediately was awakened not to continue an inch further along this route and turned into the last Rest Plaza for directions which also allowed me to turn around and get back on my originally intended excursion. I parked my rental car making sure it was locked and then proceeded hobbling with my cane to enter the main hall. Inside it was seething in activity with perhaps three hundred people all engaged in eating at the plethora of fast food vendors with cell phones and stereophonic music playing non-stop. It was 8:30 in the evening and to say the least was a surreal environment. I proceeded to a main desk and inquired as to whether there were any map directions or who I might approach for instructions for my ultimate destination. The center manager was behind a vendor booth and I approached him mentioning my dilemma. He essentially ignored me as he was too busy trying to sell the latest chicken-dog or a semblance thereof of what passes for chemically laden fast food for the gullible American public.
However in the absence of the plaza manager caring whether I might continue to struggle with my ultimate destination, an assistant by his side engaged with me. I noticed immediately that he was socially and perhaps a bit mentally challenged. He was doing all he could to help me but he seemed to ramble. He was unable to make eye contact and this is quite often a sign of a dissociative personality. People with a mild form schizophrenia often interact in this manner. I stayed with his instruction and I detected that as he continued in his efforts to assist me, his eloquence began to improve and I thanked him.
I maneuvered to the center of the plaza and asked a gentleman with family whether he could help with directions. He immediately engaged his cell phone; GPS App and within a minute revealed to me the exact directions with exit routes et al. Amazing, I found a certain segment of the American populace ready and willing to assist a total stranger which would invite a further scrutiny from a spiritual perspective the following day on my return visit home with my newly purchased automobile.
I left the plaza and once again returned to the ramp of the George Washington Bridge only this time on a northerly setting. Perhaps with ten minutes I found myself merging into the two toll booths set aside for cash only and was charged $15.00 for my decision at first to continue on despite what I knew a few hours previously. No sooner am I through the booth and I notice police car flashing lights radiating across radiating across my rear view mirror! What now!
I gently pull over to the left away from streaming traffic and stop my rental vehicle. At this point, I am experiencing a measure of stress since I always attempt to avoid any action that might induce a police response. I exercise this precaution no matter where I drive. Today on an ongoing basis presented in its horror to the American citizenry on the nightly news are continuous episodes where police pull over drivers and then in what appears to be routine procedure suddenly erupts into a shooting maelstrom. The officer might misread a certain action or maneuver and low and behold, the driver is executed. So here I AM with an officer looking on through my passenger side window motioning me to roll down the window for a ‘friendly chat’ and I cannot find the switch on these new cars because they purposely by design hide then from you. Geez … I point to my driver side window which is down and he walks around the car. At all times, I was careful not to touch my gold-plated handle on my walking cane resting across the passenger seat to my left surmising that he might think it was a bazooka and the war would begin.
To my surprise the black-american officer was quite cordial and stated that my trunk door in the back of the car was open. I explained my predicament and he was very obliging in giving me directions, helping me with my physical LBP symptoms getting out of the car and even mentioned that I dropped a twenty-dollar bill on the ground and he picked it up for me….. Wow !!!! Why isn’t this shown on the nightly news?? I thanked him and we both smiled and he said, “Sir, take care of yourself”. At this point, I remember my plea to the HR that this incursion be one of my specific chosen timeline without any negative or invasive influence and I smiled. The angelic hosts were all around me.
One more exit and I am traveling eastward again. At this point I decided to let my intuition and HS direct me and tossed all the voluminous direction changes to the back of the car. It was really simple as I am now traveling eastward and if I continue then I will come to the Atlantic Ocean, come hell or high water… no pun intended The first Exit which indicated the town of Hempstead I would take and sure enough about 45 minutes later, there it was. My motel for the evening was on the Jericho Turnpike which transects the town of Hempstead. As I approached one last intersection, I decided to stop at the town restaurant to absolutely make sure that I was on the right track. I walk through the door into a commercial establishment hobbling along with my cane and once again a waitress and bartender enthusiastically help me using their cell phones and GPS. At this point I am almost giddy… Turn left at the intersection and follow Jericho Turnpike for 2 miles and my motel is on the left.
I arrive at the motel and reflect marginally on the events of the day as I am quite exhausted and retire for the evening. The next morning I set out for the last 25 miles to the sellers residence and arrive approximately at 10 am. My initial decision to avoid any snow on this quest was a perfect success as I never saw a single snowflake after traveling a distance of some 260 miles.
For anonymity purposes, I will refer to the seller as M. M is one of those big-hearted 3rd generation Italian-American , blue-collar construction workers. As mentioned previously, he and I bonded immediately during our preliminary discussions by email and cell phone which led to my traveling some 250 miles to pick up the Lincoln Mark 7 LSC automobile. Always the prankster, M electronically and with a remote device turned on the ignition to the car from inside the house as I moved forward to examine my purchase and was awed by its magnificent appearance and overall condition. It appeared to me as if it just left the showroom floor. He opened the door and stated “Hello Patrick, how do you like your new car ? “ As mentioned, I just stood there in a mesmerizing stupor. The car was beyond praise. We exchanged plates and before I left an hour or so later, M gave me in addition to the car over $1400.00 dollars of additional parts for future repairs that I placed in my trunk. I have made many interpersonal transactions in my life but I never have been given such consideration and grace by another. Additionally, I could discern immediately that our business transaction had opened the door for an established friendship which would transcend into a brotherly-type companionship. We shook hands and actually embraced in a hug and I was on my way home.
The Immersion of the I AM Presence
I will now attempt to relate the experiential wonder that came upon my decision to leave New York and what transpired, which I can only conclude was the real and definitive rationale for this timely excursion. At the onset of this discourse I mentioned that I chose to travel the coastal route of Interstate 95 South to avoid paying excessive tolls across three states. Little did I know that this chosen highway was selected for a much higher purpose which I will do my best to bring to the attention of the reader. Perhaps 30 minutes in duration after leaving M’s residence with my 1988 Lincoln Marl 7 LSC, I was traveling at highway speed across a smaller bridge and looked north-eastward.
Out of nowhere arose the entire New York City complex with its rising buildings spread across the island of Manhattan. The sky overhead was intermittently clearing with peaks of sunshine but as I gazed at the city, it appeared as an odious and pernicious amalgamation of a darkened and pervasively evil observation. I had to take a second look. I could actually see the energy enveloping the entire city between buildings and emanating downward from the skyscrapers. The effect was truly Kafkaesque and extended in between and across the entire island of Manhattan. I could only describe it as choking and a representation of the negative karma that such a city as New York, home to finance capital of the USA noxiously presents.
It is here with the likes of the Rockefeller Chase Manhattan Bank, Goldman Sachs and a host of other worldwide plunderers plan their sordid deals under the umbrella of the 3D matrix. I imagined all of them meeting in unison that day after receiving the latest communication from the State Department of the Evil Empire with orders to unleash devastating, death-dealing and murderous sanctions upon the nation of Venezuela causing misery and starvation to its citizens as recently brought to our attention.
The entire episode of observation perhaps lasted a minute and then I continued onward not realizing that this series of events were just the beginning of what would be a most interesting afternoon. Crossing over into Connecticut heading northward was uneventful and I continued on Interstate 95 North. Please bear in mind that traveling this route, you are never more than 5-7 miles from the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. This coastal corridor extends through the Connecticut cities of Stanford, Bridgeport, Greenwich, New Haven, Groton and New London. This area is home to the Elite of the American Elite where trans-generational wealth is passed on to surviving generations. The origin of this wealth extends back 400 years to the early colonization by the English and Dutch plunderers of a virgin continent ripe for the taking.
These illegal fortunes were amassed over centuries of running the slave trade, resource plundering across the entire planet and only to be topped off by the financing of the opium trade wars against the Chinese civilization of the 18th and 19th Century. It is incalculable to project the death tally here as it covers a time period of four centuries. Some historians claim a 100 million souls fell to their fates brought about by these pirates adorned in their ancestral elitism. And you cannot discount the advent of the whaling industry which prevailed along the Massachusetts coast in the city of New Bedford extending northward into New Hampshire and Maine. The North Atlantic Oceans were saturated with the blood of these great Cetaceans almost to the point of an irrecoverable extinction.
It is here where I am centered while driving homeward. As mentioned previously, my LBP symptoms these last years have been mostly confined to my pelvis and hip structures and extending across my left side through the knee and ankle forcing me to walk with a cane. I was quite concerned at the onset of this trip how driving and sitting in a confined posture might affect my overall symptoms. At its worst, my legs easily cramp up and cause an excruciating pain which subsides only after standing on my toes and letting the tension release. I was acutely aware of not letting any position while driving remotely even approach such a physical impasse. Occasionally, I might reach down and massage my left knee and everything seemed OK.
However, that was soon to be tested. Having passed through New Haven, home of Yale University and privileged institution for these same Connecticut family dynasties, I was now at my closest proximity of the Atlantic Coastline. Connecticut, despite being a small state geographically is a center of the Military Industrial Complex reigning as the 6th in total defense spending of the evil empire. Corporations such Electric Boat Division of General Dynamics, Pratt & Whitney are saturated throughout this corridor all serving as Merchants of Death and no doubt in the firm hold of these same families.
It started gradually but I noticed while traveling through this area, I began to feel a torrent of energies of a disconcerting flux which was permeating my entire physical vessel. I continued onward slowing the car down and suddenly went into panic mode as the energies now crossed over into a grotesque and debilitating intensity that caused me to perceive that I might lose control of the vehicle. The cramps set in and I was now doing all I could to control a two ton automobile and suddenly in total defiance to the HR, I demanded that this stop immediately, else I lose control possibly causing a lethal accident if not to myself and perhaps another driver along this same stretch of highway. Please understand that I was overwhelmed at this point with rage and my astrological birth sign of Leo the Lion-like persona was in full lion mode roaring at the top of my lungs, I felt a warming effect come upon me and within 30 seconds, this energetic flux which had so disabled me a few minutes prior subsided and then I saw a rest stop plaza sign ½ mile ahead and entered the area and stopped the car to my great relief. I stood motionless and bowed my head with a tear dropping into my lap. I decided to close my eyes and meditate and the full measure of all these incidents were revealed to me in their entirety.
The collective understanding of all these smaller incidents were now transposed into an EPIPHANY of wonder and transcendental transparency. A common theme of my disquisitions posted on Dr. Stankov’s site and other social media forum platforms is the notion portraying the collective amnesia of the American citizenry due to the cabal and elites having unleashed the most pervasive and mind numbing propaganda campaign against then that I thought: “Where are these souls of Light ?“
I thought of all the kindness and heart-felt assistance that had been extended to me on this journey. From the many in the rest areas, including the mentally and socially challenged individual who could not make eye contact with me but yet in his steadfast deliberation to do all he could to assist me, was a testament to the innate goodness of the human spirit. This alone humbled me to the point of tears. The policeman on the George Washington Bridge behaving as a perfect gentlemen and servant of the public and then there were the restaurant workers with their Cell phones and GPS all lending a helping assistance. Finally, there was M, the seller who is a bigger than life magnanimous soul who I know as I write this narrative is now a friend for life and is awakening. I was awed by this aspect of my understandings and could only have come about with the descent of the I AM presence into my consciousness.
The HR were not through yet. It now became fully apparent that I was acting in alignment with my stated missive as presented here in a previous discourse:
To wit: “Serve as a spiritual intercessor for the immense task of healing the North American continent due to its relentless subjugation to foreign commercial interests and genocidal plunder for the duration of a half millennium.“
I was engaged in a concerted effort to cleanse in a timeline of my choosing and, as described at the onset of this disquisition, a defined geographic corridor of perhaps the darkest, most depraved legacy of centuries-driven plunder against Gaia and the world’s population ever undertaken in the chronicles of Western history. At this revelation, I simply remained calm and began to rest with closed eyes and a heavy heart.
An hour elapsed with restful respite and I proceeded to begin the last trek of this sojourn fully at rest and with no discomfort anywhere in my physical vessel. I arrived home at 8:30 pm and during the entire night I was under attack with a gastrointestinal dilemma of a nauseating duration. I am still reeling from this experience and coming to grips with its significance and My immersion into the I AM Presence.
The purchase of this very desirous and comforting vehicle was ancillary to this entire transcendental experience. It was just the means by which this higher spiritual achievement was realized. I would never have undertaken such a journey for any other physical commodity other than what I understood due to having owned operated the same vehicle twenty years ago. The seats are in perfect alignment and comfort for my debilitating LBP symptoms of my pelvis, hips and legs. The time or MIRACLES are upon us all.
One other aspect of this ongoing and continuing reflection that I have continued to ponder is that at the worst moment of my physical distress while traveling through Connecticut to return home, a certain city or exit sign was clouded in my memory, Perhaps, a week after this incident concluded, in a moment of synchronicity, the city of Mystic, Connecticut appeared in my consciousness. I recently read a text which should be required reading for all Americans in the public schools, “The Forgotten History of America” by Cormac O’Brien. It tells the entire history of the early colonialists rapacious and plunderous actions against the first indigenous inhabitants along the Atlantic seaboard throughout the 1600’s which incidentally set the stage for the genocidal campaigns against the plains indians of the American west some 200 years later. It was at Mystic, Connecticut where the Pequot Indian of men, women and children were burned alive.
Perhaps, I heard their cries as I cleansed this area in my chosen timeline.
P.S. To my fellow light warrior of the first and last hour, Dominique,
In our communications of a few weeks ago, I mentioned to you the following: “I was experiencing small miracles but they appeared to be not of the spiritual plane ( This refers to my recent car purchase.).
You responded: “I have no preconceived notions about these dream and their manifestation and surely any successful spiritual endeavor is reflected on the material level?”
Well, welcome to the world of the Lincoln Mark 7 LSC: