The Judge

THE JUDGE

I came to meet Jason Davis by finding the warm-up project to The Superbeings, called The Blue Emerald, in February 2011.  Prior to this, like most had been studying with another "New Age" group and teacher.  What follows is a recount of my last 2 or 3 weeks of 7 years with this school of thought.  It is in no way (this teacher or school) to be deemed as bad, evil or negative.  In fact, the lesson here received has been my greatest to date and one I am most grateful for.  "Group" and "Teacher" will be used in describing this past association.

The winter of 2010 was cold and brutal.  Something was wrong with me.  The path to spiritual enlightenment, once filled with joy and growth had turned sour.  The first 3 or 4 years with this group had shown me many things.  Little by little I started feeling the teachings were meant to keep me asleep.  My thoughts becoming consumed with "the teacher.”  No longer could I meditate without seeing his face.  Despondent and weeping, I would sit for hours staring at the wall. I was hexed, but that is a story for another time.  The last "talk" or "teaching" he gave that I was part of, was the one that pushed me over the edge of all sane reason.  I was ripe for influence, intended or not.

The world was gearing up for prophecies of Armageddon 2012.  The teacher was describing certain possible scenarios of chaos that could ensue during this time.  We were asked to start stock piling food, and personal protection might not be a bad idea.  Given my current situation along with a traveling husband, a big house in a repressed area, a recent murder down the street, FEAR blossomed.  I started buying "extra" food hiding it under the bed and in the basement. I was getting paranoid.  When my husband was traveling I was sure someone was watching me.  Convinced I was being stalked I began researching stun guns.  Finding the close proximity to the imagined assailant needed to use such a device, I decided this would not do.  I NEEDED A GUN!  Enter "The Judge.”

Right at this time my husband was planning a business trip overseas.  I began to panic and needed to convince him of my need for a gun.  To my surprise he readily agreed, in fact thought it was great idea!  The 2nd weekend before his departure we go shopping.  This was my first experience in a gun shop.  I have never shot or even held a gun.  Walking in it was like entering a distorted dream state.  I felt nervous.  My husband took charge as "options" were laid on the counter.  I became increasingly nervous and confused.  The store was so busy.  Listening to various conversations my fear fueled and the decision to buy more right.  I had to choose something.  The man behind the counter was saying stuff like....this one you can put in your purse, this one to stop them...but if you are alone THIS is the one you want.  Picking it up he tells me it's called "The Judge.”  It's a huge revolver.  The bullets look like they could kill an elephant.  I'll take it!  I insist it be registered in my name.  My husband pays the $650.00.  On the drive home regret of my purchase was already setting in.

It's the weekend before my husband leaves and the day we go to the shooting range.  I need lessons.  Arriving at the range, that distorted dream state comes over me.  My husband and the shooting instructor are showing me how to load it.  It's so big and heavy.  I'm scared.  I don't want to fire it.  Hold it like this they say, point it here and squeeze the trigger.  I do and nothing happens!  Try it again...nothing.  IT'S BROKE!  A brand new gun and it doesn't work.  What are the chances of that?  I knew...oh yes I knew!  We leave going straight back to the gun shop.  My husband explains the problem.  As "luck" would have it the shop’s gunsmith is in and will take a look at it while we wait.  Bringing it back they explain the spring mechanism or something was not connected at the factory.  They find this very odd and unusual!  Of course I don't find this odd at all.  I'm then taken out back of the gun shop and directed to fire it into a mound of dirt.  I do...one time and wish to leave.  I am now consumed with hatred of this "thing" I own.

It's now the following week.  I have been home alone for several days, my husband off on his business trip.  Not feeling real good I decide to go take a swim.  Jumping in, the warm water surrounds me.  Overcome with sadness and despair I begin to cry.  A long awaited release of such magnitude I cannot describe.  Suddenly I am filled with a sense of joy not felt for a very long time.  I start dancing and splashing around.  The music loud and wonderful.  I feel Jesus and others beside and all around me.  I envision a spiritual army all dancing in perfect unison.  Laughter explodes...I am happy!  But then I hear a voice...Jesus is speaking to me! Or at least some intelligent energy masquerading as Jesus, which happens all the time all over the world.  Just like this he says: “Now Shelly, what are you going to do about that gun?”  I crumble into a complete melt down.  It had only been a few days since this horrible purchase but had somehow pushed the memory...the thought of it away!  Such anguish I have never known.  I get out of the pool.

Back in the house I'm in the kitchen.  Here we have a life size stained glass window of "The Saint" or "Jesus" or “Whomever.” I'm in full melt down.  Pacing in circles, crying hysterically in front of the window.  What to do, what to do, what to do??  Jesus speaks again: “Here are your options.  You may keep it and forever protect it that it never harms a living being or you may destroy it.” Anguish...I don't want it...I want it gone....but how can I destroy this brand new purchase? My husband will freak out!  $650.00 down the drain.  I know....I'll return it to the store...they can resell it and we get the money back.  Jesus again: “No Shelly...even if they would take it back, it gets resold, and maybe some time in the future it is used to harm someone…it is a part of your energy now. You have blended your energy with the gun’s. It can’t be undone. Your name, you persona, will forever be attached. You are responsible! If the gun gets used to harm someone, you may as well be the one pulling the trigger. See what I’m saying?”  Oh my goodness...what to do?

I have a vision.  An intruder coming in the door.  I am standing pointing "The Judge" at him.  It feels so real.  Jesus: “Can you do it, Shelly?  Do you want to do it?  Do you think you have the right to save your own life?  The only answer for me is NO.”

Hours pass.  I'm freaking out still walking in circles.  I would go look at "it" then return to pacing and crying.  Back and forth, back and forth. I recall reading somewhere or something like that the police will accept weapons to destroy them.  Finally I get dressed.  The choice made.  I grab the offending beast putting it back in its box and drive to the police station.  I am in such a high state of anxiety they take me to the back room.  I explain to the two officers (through the tears and hysterics) that I want this weapon destroyed.  Seeing this is a brand new gun and thinking I'm crazy they ask me why?  My only response: “Because Jesus spoke to me.”  To them this only reinforced my unstable mind.  They wanted to speak with my husband first! Standing my ground and standing up, now in control of myself.  I look each one directly in their eyes and say, “This is registered in my name and my name only.  DESTROY IT!”

They tell me it will be done.  I walk out with a feeling of relief.  The only thing left to do is tell my husband when he gets home.  I do and he says, “Have you lost your mind?”

Very calmly I explain, “Yes I did lose my mind, and for that reason I bought a gun.”

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