Summer Ancestral Vision Quest Back To New Hampshire & Ogunquit Beach Maine 2026

William Nickerson Sr-Grandpa 1908

As a Scorpio Sun sign with a Cancer Ascendant, a double-water astrological sign with a Virgo moon in conjunction with Pluto, I feel comfortable diving deep into the collective unconsciousness and feeling my way through life. I was born a super-sensitive, perceptive being, picking up the irritations, discomfort,  anger, and ancestral agony of others in my environment and the world, including the harsh chemicals and pharmaceuticals the average person is conditioned to use daily. Fortunately, I have a good amount of Earth element in my chart that makes me a good shamanic practitioner; in the beginning of my teachings, I sought out Shamans who were very grounded, with bones and body types double the size of mine, who felt more comfortable in the high mountains of the Andes than swimming in the ocean like me. Thank Goddess and God, I have learned effective spiritual clearing techniques to keep me somewhat balanced these days with all this fury flying around our Blue Planet, looking more like the Red Planet of rage at the moment, as Mother Earth is in the throes of her painful contractions during the birthing of the New Earth. Her amniotic fluid has burst; look around, flooding everywhere, especially at the Nepal / Tibet boarder ice melting explosion taking thousands with them, including many spiritual pilgrims who have now traveled back to the pure light, merging with source. In this lifetime, I am originally from Boston, MA, born Beverly Boot Brown; my nickname was B3, and I now publicly recognize that my soul originated from the star constellation Bootes, which represents an ox driver or herdsman, and I was born in the year of the Ox in Chinese astrology too. To know myself better, I have delved into astrology by getting readings from astute, accurate, and intuitive astrologers I found on YouTube recently, including one with Amrit Sandhu. In the constellation Boötes, the brightest star is Arcturus, visible in the northern night sky; souls from that region, we call ourselves Arcturians, or “the rescuers,” seven-dimensional empathic beings here to help with Gaia's ascension to 5D! If the whole galactic origins concept weirds you out, give it a few years; it's catching on, and it's just the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius; it'll soon be mainstream, trumping your ethnic background (pun intended). Like many starseeds, I volunteered to come to Pachamama, the Quechua word for Mother Earth, during her massive ascension process to 5-dimensional consciousness, often referred to as the Collective Christ Consciousness during the onset of the Age of Aquarius that started in 2012 and continues for the next 2000 years, not to be confused with waiting for an external “ Christ Savior”   to literaly come down to 3D earth God in human form again and save us from the devil and rapture up just a select few religious rightous groups get a golden ticket up into heaven; a dangerous concept in my humble opionion for it puts one religious group above another and creates division, war and strife. Actually, reaching paradise is an inside job to achieve the bliss state of 5-dimensional consciousness, also called in some circles “Christ Consciousness,”  and, in my experience, to access that higher state, a daily practice is required: at this time I choose methods such as kundalini yoga, breathwork, sound healing, immersing in nature, and simply hugging a tree or ingesting an organic fruit, or adding a special wild-crafted tincture of medicinal herbs into my morning ceremonial-grade cacao or organic herbal tea. Our world is currently in the midst of the birthing of the New Earth; are you on board for the higher timeline and vibrational shift to Love and Peace from Fear and Conquer? I freely signed up for this mission, and I am now confident many of you did as well; in moments, I experienced the bliss, telepathy, and synchronicity of the New Earth frequency. The key is for the majority to rise into this vibrational shift upward, lock it in, and hold it for a lifetime; step up as a group into a world where war is inconceivable or a Us vs. Them mindset; the “Them”  could indeed be the one percent  Globalist Billionaires who decide each day who the new global and local enemy is to hate and broadcast the venom through the mainstream media by highly manicured, made-up talking heads brought to you by a multimillion-dollar advertiser,  usually a pharmaceutical company encouraging hatred and prejudice. My philosophy is simple: big pharmaceutical, big agriculture, and big military-industrial complex companies care more about earning maximum revenue than about how it affects the ordinary everyday human trying to provide for their future families, lineages,  and communities. Rotten politicians now run many government systems and have lined their pockets with money gifted to them by the aforementioned big three huge industries on both the Blue and Red sides. I identify as Purple, not taking sides in that political booby trap.

As a beach, ocean, and seashell lover, I was blessed to spend my formative years on Martha’s Vineyard, MA, from the early 1970s until my mother's transition in the late fall of 2017. Throughout those years, I regularly sought renewal, rebirth, and regeneration not just in summers but by visiting year-round, even in the dead of winter, with below-freezing wind chill factor rocking the island steamship to and fro from Woods Hole to the island; swimming in the crisp North Atlantic and New Hampshire's freshwater lakes when chilly off season, particularly diving into the pristine, frosty waters off MV's beaches during the height of the summer season, woke me up and made me feel truly alive after cold plunge, not to be confused with the ice baths that are promoted at some retreats; I  have to come clean I only lasted 30 seconds in the ice bath at Holistic Dante’s retreat at Casa Om, Martinsburg WV last summer my scorpio son was able to do the entire 5 minutes using his well practiced Qi Gong breath! The Breath is the key when facing a very challenging emotional, physical, and spiritual situation; I learned that in the late 1990s when attending The One Year Seminar taught by Jim Worsley, the Rebirther, who learned from Haidakhan Babaji. Auspiciously, about 16 years ago, I was divinely led to the house of Michelle Hanson in Western MA, the creator of the Ocean Oracle Deck, “What Seashells Reveal About Our True Nature,” and slowly transformed into an adept Ocean Oracle Reader. With 200 seashell cards to choose from, I got to meet the real seashells displayed in Shelly's sparkling, clean, elegant glass showcase, and I took her self-paced, in-depth online multilevel course to learn about these mollusks who create the homes we call seashells. In the Yoruba tradition, seashells are designed by the African Ocean Goddess Yemaya; when taking the online course, at times  I felt like I was in a Marine Biology Lab in Woods Hole, MA course, learning about the mollusks' behavior, common name, scientific name, anatomy, physical appearance, and interaction with humans, with a sprinkle of intuition and ancient mysticism. My mother, Wini Brown, a brown-bodied person like her married name indicates, has deep ancestral roots in Africa and Jamaica; she passed on that DNA to me, traced back to West Africa, eighteen percent according to an Ancestry.com test. Wini was a Seashell artist, creating unique jewelry pieces from shells she found on the local MV beach, such as the St. Joseph Scallop shell, meaning "Ocean Oracle," the seven stages of the Hero’s Journey laid out by Joseph Campbell. Wini expanded to buying shells from around the world to add extra diversity and flair to her artwork, especially shells from the coast of Africa; for example, the Golden Crowrie, symbolizing overcoming fear, especially during the throes of childbirth. She created one-of-a-kind jewelry and also covered photo albums, lampshades, 3-D seascape paintings, and glass bottles with shells, with the occasional splash of shellac coating to top it off and pieces of dried seaweed glued in between. She said it was her therapy; selling the pieces wasn't her focus, and once I learned the power of the energy seashells hold, I understood how it helped heal her after her disappointment with my father, William Nickerson. After more than forty years of traveling to our family’s summer home in Tisbury on MV, that dad brought us back in 1971, just 1 mile from the boat dock in Vineyard Haven, fond memories came flooding back of late at night being lulled to sleep by the sounds of the foghorn and the splash of the waves during a stormy night, breathing in the fresh sea air.   I have come to appreciate how invigorating the feeling is after swimming in the frosty waters of the  New England Atlantic on a warm, Cape Cod summer day, with a gentle cool breeze blowing through my hair and deeply breathing in fresh sea air, after practicing a vigorous set of Ashtanga yoga at the Barn in West Tisbury up island. Who knew I would miss that cold air until about seven years later, when my father's Yankee ancestors, William Gifford Nickerson Senior on the Irish side, my grandfather,  blew the ethereal horn to beckon me back for a New Hampshire-to-Maine Vision nine-day Quest, a couple of hours north of my usual swimming spot on The Vineyard, by the way, first time in this lifetime stepping foot on a Maine beach, now my new treasured beach, Ogunquit, meaning beautiful place by the sea in the native language in Abenaki, the Algonquin language.

My New Hampshire-to-Maine vision quest was perfectly planned in rhythm with the local nature spirits up North and, coincidentally, to escape the high, hellish heat of the DMV, which we experienced in July of 2026, the hottest on record,  especially July 4, a sweltering 103 degrees, but do not panic, my Earthlight Friends: Global Warming is not a real thing LOL, maybe it was in the planet configuration because the astrology was the same as during the onset of the American Civil War so shutting down the July 4 Parade could have prevented brawling in the streets with Blue vs Red or White vs Black or Trans vs Straight so many conflicts these days my stance it to stay home and do some breakwork to release the tensions seeping into my energy field. The ancestors from that region on my father's side, Irish/English side,  the Nickersons and the Blakes, took the lead, their spirits still floating around those parts, especially Clark Hill Farm of New Boston, NH, in conjunction with my personal spirit guides, nature spirits, and, of course, my higher self. The adventure commenced on Sunday, July 12, through July 21. What a relief I felt when my soul arrived in Wolfeboro, NH, for the first time, after 13 hours of driving over two days because of heavier-than-usual summer traffic, including a couple of GPS detours around NJ Chinatown. Not sure how that happened; I must have needed some energy in Chinatown, because I went in a circle for at least 1 hour, but somehow I got back onto the main highway north to the Hilton in Connecticut for much-needed sleep; it was midnight, after all, and my focus was starting to evaporate. The next afternoon, at last  I am standing out on the balcony of the historic Wolfeboro, NH Winddrifter Resort, breathing in the dramatic decrease in humidity from the airless heatwave in Northern VA; my eyes could rest, slowly scanning the picturesque peaks of the  White Mountains, smelling the aroma of the local pine trees, fresh air at last, I cried, finally off the main highway in rural small-town NH; now I can inhale the serene mountain atmosphere just 1 mile from Lake Winnipesaukee. The night before, after 8 hours of afternoon driving because of summer Sunday traffic, only reaching halfway by nightfall driving on a typical summer vacation slower-than-normal highway, no complaints; spiritual audiobooks kept me going;  I was able to stop halfway in Connecticut at a three-star Hilton for a recharge after eight hours of driving straight through it, the 502-mile trek northward, to get a good night's sleep before beginning again for another 5 hours to the quaint town of Wolfeboro, NH. My usual driving style used to be, since I moved to Maryland in the 1980s, an all-nighter from Reston, VA, or Columbia, MD, straight to Boston or Woods Hole to catch the ferry to MV in an 8-9-hour all nighter evening haul, drinking ceremonial grade cacao from Guatemala and organic coffee from Peru to keep me focused, awake but not jittery because of the magnesiuum in cacao, it opens the heart till the break of dawn, arriving around 6 am, no thanks you for stopping for added chemicals in Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts coffee along the way unless no other options, not that makes my jittery. I  pack well not to run out of my carefully packed supply; sorry for the Starbucks addicted readers; research it yourself if you feel so called. I am super sensitive to chemicals; you may be functioning just fine with it. I digress. My guides said it would be too taxing on my nervous system during these turbulent times, with all the upheaval on our Blue Planet and the energy on the road leaking into my nervous system; it’s not easy being an empath, especially once I passed by the New York City skyline, which could disrupt my focus to cautiously and peacefully drive during the night; therefore, a new plan was created to switch it up to day driving, with a break halfway through, stop at a hotel to refuel energetically. Once I arrived at the historic  Windrifter Resort in Wolfeboro NH, my body was relieved to experience the stark contrast to the oppressive hellish heat and humidity of record-breaking 103°F I had just escaped in the DC area during the July 4th weekend from Hades, marking the 250th anniversary of the United States—a period with the same astrological lineup of planets reminiscent of the American Civil War and World War II; if you do not believe me, check out the youtube of David Palmer “The History in the Stars” podcast hosted by the Leo King Astrologer and Dr. Anne Wolke, a historian. My Yankee ancestors who fought against the Confederates to stop slavery were waiting for me with open arms: the English decendant  Blue Blood Blakes who bankrolled the Union Army on father’s maternal side, and my Irish Nickerson ancestors who helped build the railroad on my father’s paternal side and on my mother's paternal lineage, my great-grandmother Louvina Price, who was a formerly enslaved person at age 11 and moved to Boston with her Cherokee husband in search of a better life, Mr. Winfield Price, I am honored to have gotten her name and my new middle name when I was age 12 once my father change my last name to Nickerson legally moving forward as Beverly Lavinya Nickerson,  her spelling as a bit different Louvina hence carries a different numerology. Louvinia Price. It inspires me when my second chakra color, orange, which I associate with creativity and lacking vitality, comes up when I start feeling sorry for myself or my vibe is low. My heartfelt recommendation during this time is not to join the fight in the streets or online- the Red vs. Blue, Confederates vs. Union, White vs. Black, or whatever other configuration is being promoted to get the “peasants fighting among themselves”  so the one percent can scoop up all the resources, including the fresh water and farmland; too many planets are lined up in Aries, ruled by Mars, the planet of fire, war, unheavals, combat, fighting, fury, rage, agitation, aggression,  plain old destructive behaviors, but also new beginnings. It is a ploy to get the peasants out fighting among themselves to justify placing more  Palantir Gotham security cameras all over the USA and imposing harsh jail sentences to lock down the average Joe who may not agree with the current regime leaders, big military-industrial complex, policies; many of us are praying for a Batman character to save us from the Joker, who The Joker is up to your perspective. At the same time, the Elites are friends behind the scenes, drinking Louis Roederer Cristal 'Gold Medallion' Orfevres Brut ($2,986 average bottle), eating Almas Caviar costing $35,000 per kilogram, packed in a 24-karat can,  sitting on their ivory toilet stolen from the sacred elephants in Africa, with possibly enslaved people hidden beneath their mansions basements who only see the light of day to serve them, ridculous but true maybe they are not really human, Retilian in nature would explain the incessable lust for power? Just a question, I continue. Meanwhile, billions live below the poverty line without proper sanitation or fresh drinking water;  nourishing food; the ones in the shadows are the sex trafficked and modern-day enslaved people, building massive structures in places like palaces in Dubai, living in harsh, unsafe conditions without any human rights. The heat and energy of DC were so oppressively intense on the July 4th weekend that I got a migraine; I hadn't had one in over 20 years, after working with the Tui Na Master Dr. Akmal, an ancient Chinese bodyworker,  my Naturopathic Doctor, Nutritionist. The migraine wasn't just from the sweltering heat; it was also energetic, feeling what is going on around our Blue Planet and right here, 30 minutes down the road, at the decisions being made at our  Nation's Capital. Take a deep breath; no need to fret, my Earthlight Friends; it's all part of the birthing process of the New Earth. It will get lighter and brighter; the upward trajectory has begun to 5D! Remember, the birthing process is chaotic; the new Earth baby will be magnificent, while the old Earth wilts and dies. Hold on a bit longer until we, as a collective, are embracing the  Oneness Christ Consciousness living on a peaceful Blue Planet; it's just the beginning of the 2000-year cycle into the Age of Aquarius; it's time to end the old paradigm of separation based on religious beliefs or fabricated racial categories designed only to steal precious resources on our Blue Planet; be the peace you seek.

Back to the Ancestral Vision Quest, to Lake Winnipesaukee, Wolfeboro, NH,  and up to the beaches of Maine, specifically Ogunquit and York, which I visited, are among the most refreshing and restorative, covered with fine, white, powdery sand, excellent for exfoliation of the entire body, leaving the skin shiny, new, and looking years younger without spending hundreds on chemical-based products; just a bit of organic coconut oil and castor oil a night will do the trick! This was my first time sunbathing, walking, and picking up large white clam shells along the shorelines of beaches in ME; this excursion was a crucial part of my Ancestral Summer Vision Quest, mapped out in the stars by my celestial cohorts, and my time swimming in the frosty, choppy Atlantic, with the impressive, vibrant, multicolored Aquinnah clay cliffs as a backdrop on Martha’s Vineyard, ended a year-round vacation tradition in 2017, when my mother passed away, after 40 years of marvelous beach memories. Wini Brown, my mom’s home, was sold after financial difficulties led her to take the reverse mortgage path, leaving me little equity to work with; so I gracefully closed that chapter, shut the door to MV, and looked forward to new beaches to explore. Beginning in 2018, I ventured to the Farm of Life to heal from the grief of Mom’s death and the lingering childhood trauma that went along with having a mother whose liver got really hot, translating into frustration, fury, and fighting when she drank too many alcoholic beverages due to her inherited trauma and DNA that goes along with the bloodline of the Cherokee Nation of her father, Winfield Price, plus the environment for brown-bodied people dating back to the 1920’s in Boston, MA. After the retreat, I vacationed for one week on the white-sand beach of Manuel Antonio, swimming in the lukewarm Pacific waters off the coast of Costa Rica. Next trip, I explored the other side of Costa Rica: the Caribbean ocean with its fine, sparkling black-sand beach called Playa Negra, the opposite vibe of Ogunquit Beach, ME. I manifested getting the opportunity to go off the traditional tourist path and stay with some Bribri Tribe family who lived deep in the Talamanca Mountains and Caribbean coast area of  Costa Rica, lots of butterflys. The Bribri inhabited those lands long before the Europeans arrived and took over; according to recent statistics, about 11,500 remain.

From what I observed, the tribe used fundraising to help build structures; my Virgo moon yearned to do some philanthropic work while there, but the circumstances didn't lend themselves to organizing it, so I just bought food for the family during my stay. I stayed at a Bribri women's house that could not afford to get the electrical wiring fixed: no lights after dark,  no flush toilets, and a long trek that included a sketchy boat to get across a roaring river to an old school bus from the 1970’s crawling with small biting ants to get to medicine resources for treating common infections we in the West take for granted. Although my  MV shoreline access had closed, I embraced the opportunity to discover more tropical beach destinations with deep gratitude, including a return to Grandma Ida Price, home of Jamaica, Black River, to be exact; she was from Port Maria and came to the USA at age 18. The quest to find my new retreat beach home kept me searching for myself and my descendants. This recent journey became an ancestral healing vision quest, allowing me to connect with my English, Irish, and Native American heritage—ancestors I never met in person, as they had already transitioned into spirit before I was born; now they have elected to be my guides, with a direct, open line for conversation. I can feel them all around me and now have many photo albums of them from my Northern Vision Quest. Their descendants, my first cousins, did not have much to do with me growing up; I met my first cousin, Uncle Henry's child, my father William Nickerson’s only brother, who walked a very different life path, and did not make eye contact with me when he took my father to court to make sure the “ illegitimate child  Beverly Boot Brown would not be able to inherit any of Great Grandma Blake's allotment from the Trust Fund set up sometime in 1929 for William and Henry's children. Charlotte, one of his three daughters, came to a party my father and mother had on MV. I was very young, so I don't remember much, except that I noticed she was about 5 foot 10 and wondered if I would grow to be that tall, good height for a runway model. She was pleasant enough towards me. The other two first cousins visited me only once after I graduated from Beaver Country Day, while I was working at the cosmetics counter in the Chestnut Hill Mall. Beatrice, Joy, and I remember Joy Long coming to my father's funeral in Nov. 2001, and her husband, Charlie Long, having me over at their rented house on MV and introducing me to one of their sons, which helped my sense of belonging.   Their dad, my father’s brother, had an old feud with my father stemming back to their college years. William left Harvard to finish at the University of Paris and led a much more liberal lifestyle than Henry, living it up in France and squandering a huge sum of money in one summer back in 1928. He had inherited the Blake Banker money that descendants deserve under the stipulations laid out by great-grandmother Francis Greenough Blake. My father loved hanging out with a myriad of colorful people from all over the world back in the day, all classes, races, and ethnicities , especially entertainers,  artists, and socialites,  starting in the late 1920s, before it was considered acceptable in the US, when folks tended not to venture out of their racial grouping or social strata, let alone date a person outside one's race or social class, that is the alluring feature of hanging out in France back then in the 1920’s back an forth including during WW2 as a Candian Officer.  

Based on the current astrology, it felt like the perfect time to meet with these ancestors, both in ethereal form and in leafing through old photographs I acquired during my journey;  photographs dating back to the late 1800s. With photographs in hand, the communication channel is now wide open, and messages are becoming clearer, especially when I quiet my mind in nature and let it flow through. By trekking through the ancestors' old stomping grounds- touching the trees,  sunbathing on the beaches of NH and ME- and now leafing through old photo albums, my connection has become stronger, and the communication signal is clearing up the static, empowering me to integrate both sides, both lineages, colors, lifestyles, and talents. The bird songs, the trees in the forests, and the lakes and oceans of this region were once their familiar landscapes, homesteads, fishing holes, and recreational vacation spots. I felt their presence guiding me, especially Grandpa Nickerson, an Irish sporting chap who loved fishing for huge grouper, large tuna, and bluefish, and who passed on his pointy Irish nose to me- thanks, that style nose became in fashion in the 1980s, apparently and my African butt from Louvinia skipped a couple of generations and landed on my backside also became in fashion later just not when I was going up to the modeling agencies back in the 80’s I guess they were waiting for J Lo to break us into the shapely protruding butt in the 90’s that unfornately turned into the dangerous BBL chemial injections, I digress let me get back on the higher vibration! Remembering the saying, “Do not cut off your nose to spite your face,” by not researching or pretending it wasn't a majority of my DNA, I couldn't really know myself; the famous Delphic Maxim inscribed on the Temple of Apollo in Delphi: “ Know Thyself.” My Irish/English lineage: right now, it is important to integrate both sides and release the fear that translates to  "False Evidence Appearing Real," the buried trauma response from childhood that honoring all colors, races, religious beliefs inside me creates more ostracism instead of inclusion from current family members, friends, colleagues, and/or employers. Old PTSD making a final appearance,  such as: will I be kicked off Clark Hill Farm by Melanie's husband, my father’s previous property, who loves to brag about his Special Ops, so who used to fly helicopter missions; big photo of him on display in the barn he refurbished,  but whatever, thirty years in the military, ok,  congrats, thanks for your service . Bob  makes sure I know the land, property, and house are now his, not just Melanie Nickerson anymore. They are legally married as of a few years ago, A Ok traditionally the females do not inherit the land; let's see what the ancestors do when that time comes. In the meantime, enjoy the beautiful countryside, and thanks for your carpentry skills redoing all the barns. Good for you to have been with Melanie for almost 30 years, now married for about 4, I think, if memory serves. No need, though, to tell me this is your house too now that she legally married you; I can manifest my own farmhome in the future with my direct line to source. I no longer play victim in this situation about inheritance, property, or being the only descendant of Willie out of four marriages and a handful of torrent affairs; you can not take it with you anyway. Just because you moved in once my father was carted off to a nursing home back in 1999, so yes, you've been living on Nickerson’s previous property for 27 years. My father willed the property to his wife, Melanie, now your wife, so no hard feelings; traditionally, the only offspring in my father's time and his culture was a woman who did not tend to inherit the property; she expected to marry into wealth or make it on her own. I remember my father looking a bit concerned, saying, “No one wanted to marry you...” Back in 2001, I was not attached; my abundance comes directly from Great Spirit, not from you personally leaving me some property. I may manifest my life partner later in life. Weary of “nice guys,” I prefer kind, compassionate men open to a holistic lifestyle. From there, the ancestors and I took day trips to the shores of Ogunquit, Maine, with the last stop at the old family homestead, Clarke Hill Farm in New Boston, NH, still owned by Melanie Nickerson, my father's last wife of four, just 9 years my senior. Mrs. Nickerson, now Mrs. Fossbender, was forty-two years younger than my dad when they married, but age is just a number, right? Ageless and Timeless is the motto I adopted from listening to Louise Hay cassette tapes, dating myself with the cassette tape reference for sure. My father, William Gifford Nickerson, inherited a couple of houses in New Boston, NH, with 500 acres of forest and farmland to raise beef cattle attached to it in the mid-1940s after serving in the Canadian Army as an officer, buying ambulances to help the injured during World War II, fighting against the Nazi’s a noble cause if you have to fight they were definatley the ones to step in and stop the carnage- a moral decision, for he was not drafted; in fact, the USA Army rejected his application to enlist due to a medical imperfection of his right arm that did not bend all the way staight. However, he was still an excellent shot, and therefore the Canadian Army welcomed him with open arms to bear arms against the Nazi nasty philosophy. Dad met Hitler before the war at some event and referred to him as “ the most aweful little shit who he had ever met,” William proclaimed, " I'm going to help in the effort to stop him”. He was based in France, for he graduated from the University of Paris and spoke perfect French, a great asset once the Germans took over France to be part of the resistance; it was an African elegant female performer that hid him from the Nazi when they crossed into France, was one of the stories he liked to tell, could be the reason he loved people of color, for one saved his hide from a Nazi prision camp. In an Evolutionary Astrology reading that not only reads the planetary configurations when you're born but can take a glimpse into your past life, the astrologer who trained with Jeffrey Wolfe Greene, the founder of this method of astrology, looking at my natal chart confirmed my soul fought in WWII on the French side, and flashes of being captured by the Gestapo were confirmed; that's why I can not watch a WWII movie that has a hint of torture, maybe why I choose my father to reincarnate with in this lifetime and went to middle and high school with many souls who were decentants of the atrocities of the holocaust. Apologies if I am triggering anyone with that subject; let's just jump forward to 5D Earth to peace, love, and harmony. On that frequency, war is unfathomable; no more writing about that I promise; keep reading upwards and onwards.     Back to Dad William, he inherited after the war in the 1940’s  from his mother, Beatrice Blake, a fully functioning farm for breeding free-range, grass-fed beef cattle; he called himself a "Gentleman's Farmer". The stars shone on him with wealth in this lifetime; however, he lacked consistent relationships with one woman until he was over 68. He is a Scorpio born on November 1; after all, what did I expect: wine, woman, and song, a combo of the Peter Pan and Bacchus archetype? My Irish grandfather, William Nickerson Sr., enjoyed fishing and swimming at Ogunquit and York Beach, Maine, as well as fishing on Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire, and died young, possibly a bit too much of the bubbly beverages, if you get my drift. His father, Albert Nickerson, made his wealth in the railroad-building industry. We all suffer from PTSD or inherit it from our ancestors, so judgment towards my father is directed at my wife, her husband, my immediate family, and, of course, myself. It's time for deep healing; maybe I'll try Internal Family Systems IFS) for any trauma I was gifted from both the Blakes, Nickersons, Prices, and Goldburns.

After getting some great old photos of my ancestors dating back to the 1800s during the vision quest trip the summer just passed  as part of my intimate personal  mission, I wove them together like a stunning tapestry of these family traditions, strengths, and lessons learned from diving deeper into my genealogy  beyond the results of the DNA testing, what it means for me now, how to incorporate it into my life now, and  to  expand it out to comfort the collective during  the birthing of the New Earth Consciousness. While driving through Maine's back roads for the first time, traveling from Lake Winnipesaukee in Wolfeboro, NH, to New Boston, to the outskirts of Boston, MA, I had time to ponder the grander purpose of my soul mission at this  now moment in time . The clan chose the resort called the Windrifter, built in the late 1700s as a New England homestead. My mother's name was Wini Brown, a stunning brown-bodied woman with Jamaican, Cherokee, and Jewish heritage, who remained present in my thoughts the entire time ; I sensed her spirit while swimming along Lake Winnipesaukee, remembering the time we swam with Dad in Scobey Pond, also known as Haunted Lake due to a series of tragedies , eerie surveyors' reports, and forest fires associated with the land  near his land. Along with those of my other ancestors on Dad's side of old English Blue Blood and Irish, accompanying me and shaping my experience with a nudge to write about them with an open heart and sincere objective to heal the racial divide and embrace wholeness for myself that will ripple out to the world. My 3-D Interval World timeshare exchange brought me to the historic Windrifter Resort, located one mile from Lake Winnipesaukee's Brewster Beach, a two-star at best, now in need of much upkeep, but good enough for my needs that week; I came to commune with nature, not sit in an old condo. Now I am sorting through historical family photographs stored in the old barn at Clark Hill Farm, my father's former property, now owned by his widow, Melanie, a local from Manchester, NH.  My father passed away in November 2001; his widow, only nine years my senior, has been in a relationship since 1998, and she married him about five years ago to secure that the land would not go to her brother or maybe even me, but I will see what the ancestors say about it later. To be continued.

Bob is a handy carpenter who spent years working on old barns and the house, so I can say he really earned his keep on the former family  Blake/Nickerson homestead. He is a good, consistent companion for Melanie. The abandonment trauma my mother and I experienced when I was only sixteen, due to my 68-year-old dad marrying a 26-year-old and putting her needs before ours and diving my mother into a poverty consciouness fear in one day, is a subject for another reflection moment in the next blog; the seashell helped with healing, and we did not lose the MV house; all was A Ok in time. However, I'm sure you know it was healed on that Vision Quest: any residual resentment toward my father. I stopped identifying as a victim of that circumstance many years ago, and everything that happened in my life was designed for my ideal evolution. My mother was initially devastated by William's actions; however, she found healing and peace through her seashell art, and I carry on the healing tradition using seashells by offering deep Ocean Oracle Readings. Ultimately, loyalty cannot be bought, but my parents' genuine love endured; they are enjoying the other realm in spirit form, hanging out on some star in another dimension, having a party! In an Ayahuasca ceremony  deep in the Pucullpa jungle a few years ago, the  main message  Aya shared with me was to focus on the love that brought my parents together rather than the fear of what broke them up. No victims here now; each person played a role in this family narrative, and many lessons about codependency, alcoholism, materialism, and the body-mind connection to health I learned. Thank you. I signed up for it, and so did you, whatever your situation. Take some quiet time in nature to examine your unique soul mission, and walk step by step toward it each day, and before you know it, you'll be basking in the sunlight on the higher-frequency New Earth.🌍💚