I Am the Impossible Made Possible: Prologue

Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we can’t live within.

~James Baldwin

If you feel safe in the area you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area. Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in. Go a little bit out of your depth. And when you feel like your feet aren’t quite touching the bottom, you’re just about in the right place to do something really exciting.

~David Bowie

  • Do not fear mistakes. There are none.
  • Don’t play what’s there, play what’s not there.
  • Sometimes you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.

~Miles Davis

I remember, as a child—5, 6, 7, younger, older—semi-regularly standing in front of the bathroom mirrors (at my house and my grandparents’ house) giving reports to an unseen audience about what it was like to be in a human body on earth.   I understood implicitly that, although I didn’t see them with my physical eyes, I was transmitting information to my star family. I never forgot those experiences of childhood in which I was in conscious communication with the unseen world—with those we would call “extraterrestrials.”   But eventually those experiences faded and I dismissed them as a product of my imagination.

When I was 16, for three nights in a row, an unseen presence visited me in my bedroom at night to remind me again why I was here on this planet. By that point in my life I was well indoctrinated in a construct of reality that didn’t particularly accommodate the world of spirit or extraterrestrials, although my dad was fascinated with the stars and science “fiction.” In spite of my belief that it wasn’t even possible, I was unmistakably visited by the most loving presence imaginable and for those three nights that unseen, but felt, visitor would wake me up from a deep sleep and remind me that I had come to help facilitate vast change on the planet. I would cry each night, not out of fear, but out of a profound sense of remembering, longing, belonging, mission, and confusion about how to fulfill that mission.

On the third night I finally woke my parents in an attempt to reconcile who and what I remembered myself to be with who I had been taught to believe I was. The best articulation I could manage was to tell them I had been visited by God and that he asked me to change the world—and even save it. I understood, even as I told them what I had experienced, that they would probably see me as crazy. But I also knew the truth in my bones, even when it challenged everything I had come to understand as reality. I didn’t know how to fit my soul’s mission into the small box of what I had been taught was the world in Burlington, Iowa in 1980. The only path I could imagine was enrolling in the Peace Corps. I didn’t know how else to bring peace to a world in which violence was such a part of the fabric of reality. Even that was wholly inadequate in proportion to the vastness of the mission I felt charged with, but I had no framework from which to suggest anything else. My parents stood adamantly against me traveling to impoverished or war-torn countries. So, somehow, in a long and emotional conversation in the middle of the night, they talked me into finishing high school, going to college, and becoming a social worker. And that’s what I did. We never spoke of that night again until five years ago, when I finally told them about my ability to communicate with a variety of physical and non-physical beings, collectives, realms, and universes in multi-dimensional realities. And among the beings I communicate with are those I call my star family, beings in physical form that are referred to as ETs.

Why am I writing of this now? Certainly not to convince anyone of anything. Some of you might think I’ve gone off the deep end. Some simply won’t be interested. But some of you have a curiosity or a knowing in your heart or have had conscious contact already. So for those of you who are on your own journey of awakening to the vast, infinite, timeless, and multi-dimensional nature of your being–and all of reality–I offer my story.  I offer it, in part, because the most recent chapters are stories I have never heard told and I’ve heard a lot of stories. In spite of that, I do not think my experiences are unique.  I am just, perhaps, one of the first to remember. I offer it as a friend, a fellow explorer, and a guide. I offer it in hopes that it encourages you to trust the deepest knowing of your own heart and soul.

This is just the beginning.

themoonsfaceshowsmountainscratersanddarkplacescalledseas

The moon’s face shows mountains and craters and dark places called seas, 2011.

This is the first in a series of posts I am writing about my experiences as a multi-dimensional being in human form remembering and exploring more fully the nature of my galactic roots and communication with my star family.

I want to insert here that I am writing about experiences that are largely out of linear time and experienced primarily through my heart-knowing and extra senses.  It is truly impossible to translate what happens outside of space and time into a linear narrative.  It is natural for the mind to grasp for explanations, but I encourage the reader to filter my words through your heart for the deepest understanding. The energetic transmission of these words may evoke a variety of responses and emotions–confusion, anger, longing, grief, joy, and/or a sense of deja vu, coming home or longing for home. You might experience body sensations, scents, sounds, or images that you can’t explain or would rather dismiss. Do not be alarmed–aspects of who and what you are just asking for recognition.  Don’t hesitate to reach out if I can be of assistance. My email address is: theresa.luttenegger@gmail.com.

 

 

 

 

Retrograde

This Morning

In a can’t-seem-to-move-forward kind of day (and isn’t life a spiral, anyway?) and the sun dipping in and out of the clouds.  In that way of reaching for words that will come somewhere from the future now and letting go the grasp. In that way, that gentle, foggy, in-between way–the chickens’ combs are starting to emerge. Even out of time, there’s a perfect timing for everything. On Saturday, we saw eight seals, a heron, and a whale in the channel surface-feeding.  Today, Goose howled in such a way I’ve never heard in all the time I’ve known her.  The most plaintive of plainsong.

Last Night

Among the last, few scraps of fabric was a panel of three silk herons, thread-bare, and repaired. They, too, had survived, like the dark shade of lipstick, an antiquated super power brought to new life by her mother’s hands. She lived with things that were borrowed, second-hand, cast-off, a memory foam bed with someone else’s memories.  Not even the dogs were her own.

This Afternoon

The world is humming, alive.  For you it has blossomed and died and is blooming again. For you, all for you.

heron