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Imagine the Earth wrapped in a shimmering, invisible web of 'energy highways' known as ley lines. These straight paths of power act as a planetary grid, pulsing with the world's natural vitality.  At their most potent intersections—the vortices—ancient builders erected monuments like Stonehenge and the

Great Pyramid of Giza.  By using the precise, harmonious proportions of sacred geometry, these architects didn't just build structures; they crafted massive amplifiers designed to tap into and broadcast the Earth's hidden current.

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One might find a vortex of energy surrounding my childhood home, powered by the kinetic energy of the subterranean Appalachian Feathered Serpent River and its proximity to the Pilot Mountain Wheel  and the Cape Fear Arch. This potent environment likely catalyzed the spiritual transformations I’ve experienced since youth—a spectrum of celestial, metaphysical, and extraterrestrial encounters.  I believe this unique environmental charge opened a doorway to the extraordinary, shaping the high-vibrational lens through which I now view my life’s experiences and thus fueling my life's work.

 

My first brush with the "high-strange" happened three months before I was even born. My mother was on the screened-in porch of our country farmhouse, tending to the wringer-style washing machine, when the peace was shattered—not by a sound, but by me. I began kicking with a frantic, localized violence that doubled her over in pain. Fearing a miscarriage, she clutched her stomach and collapsed forward.

 

At that exact heartbeat, a deafening crack ripped through the air, followed by a metallic whiz just above her head. As the kicking abruptly stopped, she looked up to find a jagged hole in the porch screen and another in the wooden siding behind her. My father, alerted by the shot, rushed her inside. They later recovered the rifle slug—a stray round from a distant hunter—embedded exactly where her chest would have been had she been standing upright.

 

My father dug the bullet out with a pocketknife and strung it onto a necklace; a lifelong reminder that my higher self intervened from the womb to save us both. Had I kicked a breath later, or had she resisted the pain for even a second, the bullet would have found its mark: my first breath wasn't a beginning, it was a second chance granted by a miracle.

 

My second encounter with the extraordinary arrived just weeks before my sixth birthday. Consumed by the searing fever of red measles, I drifted into a near-death state and felt my spirit slip its physical tether. I was not alone; a radiant being of light took my hand, and together we soared upward, leaving my childhood home far below. We arrived at an ancient village, a place of sun-drenched streets and olive-skinned people. As I walked among them, locking eyes with the villagers, a sudden, piercing clarity washed over me. I wasn't a stranger here; these were my people, this was my family, and in an ancient life, this village had been my home.

 

As a young child, my favorite sanctuary was a small hill behind our house with a perfect westward view of Pilot Mountain. Sitting there, I discovered I could slip the bonds of my physical form and fly. I would soar like a bird over the countryside, navigating the terrain until I reached the mountain’s summit. From a bird’s-eye view, I gazed down at the rugged knob, the rocks, and the ancient, wind-bent trees. I flew alongside the black ravens nesting in the crags, sharing their sky before banking back toward home and merging once more with my body. This gift of bi-location remained with me until I was nine, when the ethereal bond began to fade—perhaps a casualty of growing older and the world becoming more 'solid.'

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The most intense of my childhood encounters occurred when I was ten, involving two 'guardians' who came to settle a past-life account. They spoke of a sacred white elephant and a karmic debt that needed balancing.  After a surreal journey through my bedroom window to a 'medical' suite of pure light, I was returned to my room changed.  The physical aftermath—a severe, sunburn-like rash covering my head and neck—served as a two-week-long reminder of the encounter.  This experience didn't just heal a past wound; it dismantled my traditional religious beliefs, replacing them with a first-hand knowledge of reincarnation and the intricate, sometimes painful, mechanics of karma.

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The next event occurred a few months later on a quiet summer evening as my parents, my three siblings, and I gathered on the front porch. Suddenly, my five-year-old brother shouted, 'Look!' Across the road, hovering silently a few hundred feet above a grove of southern pines, was a shimmering silver disc. We all bolted to our feet, voices rising in excitement and awe. As we watched, the disc suddenly vanished—streaking westward toward Pilot Mountain in the blink of an eye.  Even as a child, the craft's destination didn't surprise me; I already sensed the mountain was a beacon for such power.

 

At sixteen, a routine tonsillectomy became the backdrop for my first fully conscious out-of-body experience.  In the recovery room, I sat up and looked down, stunned to see my own physical form lying beneath me.  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up, watching the scene as a detached observer: the steady beep of the vitals monitor, the nasal cannula, and the nurse quietly charting my stats. My mother sat by the bed, her elbows dug into the mattress, lost in fervent prayer alongside my siblings. Looking at the body in the bed, I felt no kinship with the flesh—yet the sheer force of my family’s love and prayer acted like a magnet, pulling my spirit back into the physical world.

 

In the summer of 1989, the extraordinary returned to my doorstep in the form of a gargantuan black triangular craft. It sat in eerie silence above an eighty-foot ancient oak, defying every law of physics before streaking away. I soon discovered I wasn't the only witness; two local boys had been so shaken by the sight that they hid by my front yard fence as it hovered. The validity of the event was cemented a year later when my anthropology professor—who had lived on my street at the time—nonchalantly confirmed his son’s sighting. This encounter proved that the 'thinness' of the veil at my home was a phenomenon visible even to those outside my own spiritual journey.

 

My most profound spiritual shift occurred during a near-death experience in my early thirties. Transported to a breathtaking valley of emerald green and white-capped mountains, I stood at the center of all existence: the Tree of Life. There, I was greeted by a sea of living creatures and the familiar spirit of my dog, Holly who had passed away a few days earlier, confirming that love is the only true currency of the afterlife. This wasn't a fleeting glimpse, but a 72-hour immersion in the 'life-between-lives'—the space where the soul rests between incarnations. This journey to my spiritual origin didn't just save my life; it fundamentally altered my physical and mental being, anchoring me forever in the knowledge of our eternal nature.

 

In 2013, my journey took a professional turn when I met the renowned nuclear physicist and UFO researcher Stanton Friedman, who later introduced me to Kathleen Marden, then-Director of the MUFON Experiencer Resource Team. Through this network, I was led to an investigation in eastern North Carolina in June 2015. While documenting reported activity on private property owned by Chris Bledsoe, I underwent a profound experience involving two hours of missing time.  Comprehensive photo and video evidence of this event is preserved under the Missing Time>Video Evidence tab on this website.

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To make sense of these life-altering events, I embarked on an exhaustive study of the unseen and the empirical alike.  My search for answers led me through the worlds of quantum theory, metaphysics, and Sacred Geometry, alongside deep dives into Chaldean numerology and the 11:11 phenomenon.  This intellectual journey was mirrored by a practical one: I earned certifications in healing touch, past life regression, and shamanism.  My formal education anchored these experiences in the human story, resulting in degrees in anthropology, sociology, and archaeology, culminating in a Master of Arts in Anthropology focused on Mesoamerican archaeology.

 

For three decades, my career was anchored in the empirical rigor of NIH-funded research, where logic and the scientific method were my primary tools for mapping human health.  However, a lifetime of unexplained phenomena eventually pulled my analytical gaze toward a different frontier.  In 2008, I transitioned from the clinical lab to the field, applying the principles of archaeology and anthropology to the study of haunting phenomena across the American Southeast.

 

What began as a disciplined investigation into how a deceased population communicates across time soon evolved into a profound quantum shift.  By utilizing a sophisticated longitudinal modeling approach, I moved beyond the traditional 'ghost story' and into the realm of intelligent, interactive consciousness. 

My data no longer pointed solely to historic timelines; instead, I began intercepting communications from 'others'—entities referencing portals, wormholes, and non-human origins.  

 

Today, I stand at the intersection of objective science and subjective inner knowing. I have traded the left-brain comfort of clinical forms for the multidisciplinary field of noÄ“sis, where I apply the same precision I once used in neuropsychology to study the full spectrum of human consciousness.  I am no longer just a researcher of the past; I am a cartographer of the multidimensional, seeking to understand the 'energy highways' and quantum layers that connect our physical world to the astral plane.

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With a career spanning over 15 years and 100+ investigations, I have dedicated my life to documenting the unexplained through rigorous research and media production. My findings have been presented to academic institutions such as Duke University and the Rhine Research Center, and shared with global audiences via The Discovery Channel and The Travel Channel.

 

Beyond my work as the co-producer of the documentary Dead History, I am a prolific author, a peer to some of the most influential voices in modern spirituality and ancient history.  I have the honor of being a contributing co-author to nine published works, collaborating alongside esteemed thought leaders including Neale Donald Walsch, William Henry and Drs. JJ and Desiree Hurtak. My work continues to bridge the gap between historical investigation and the deep exploration of human consciousness.

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​​Published Works & Contributions

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