As I checked the cameras, Patrick Flanagan took his seat behind the desk for filming this pleasant spring day in 2013. I was excited—today he was going to talk about an IQ and meditation boosting invention that had earned him a featured spot in LIFE Magazine as one of America’s most promising young scientists.
But something was different. Normally Pat was calm, relaxed, and playful on the green screen set I had built for him in his Cottonwood warehouse at PhiSciences. Today, though, I could see he was nervous.
Pat looked at me, then asked softly if I could turn off the camera.
I did, and what poured out next was one of the most extraordinary stories I’d ever heard from him. Pat told me how his invention—the Neurophone—had been seized under secrecy by the U.S. government in the 60s. For over twenty years, they studied it for potential military uses, searching for ways to weaponize what he had created. During that time, Pat worked in a government think tank, carefully making sure nothing he designed could be turned toward harmful ends.
Exercising the Corpus Callossum for Good
I was shocked. But Pat, with his usual grace, had a surprisingly lighthearted take. He explained that because he approached science holistically—always wedded to spirit—they eventually decided he wasn’t worth bothering. “They finally wrote me off,” he laughed. “Haven’t touched me in years.”
After a few laughs together, the tension broke. Pat felt ready to go on camera.
And then came the magic.
He explained that the Neurophone works by sending gentle ultrasonic waves—more delicate than those from a simple ultrasonic toothbrush—directly into the brain. These waves harmonize the left and right hemispheres, boosting IQ, enhancing learning, and deepening meditation.
I filmed in wonder, and later, as I edited, the wonder only grew. To bring his explanation alive, I found an underwater shot that looked like thought itself drifting in waves, and I layered in subtle sound effects to evoke the ultrasonic hum.
When I showed the finished segment to Pat, he loved it.
The NEO Neurophone
A year later, Patrick took me up on an offer to update his NF3 Neurophone. Together, we launched an Indiegogo campaign for the new model, the NEO—short for Neural Efficiency Optimizer. The response was overwhelming: we pre-sold 5,000 units and raised $1.6 million dollars. For a moment, it seemed the Neurophone was about to step fully into the mainstream. But as the NEO was on the cusp of wider production, Patrick’s health began to deteriorate. The next steps needed to mass produce the NEO were never taken.
Happily there is still a Neurophone available on the market, the NF3. Its casing is not as contemporary in appearance as NEO. But the NF3 utilizes only one ultrasonic mode but it provides the same great benefits. The NF3 is in stereo whereas the NEO was mono.
Pat was never fully embraced by the mainstream world—whether in science or in spirit. But within the conscious community, he was beloved. He was a sought-after speaker, a pioneer whose blend of brilliance, curiosity, and heart touched countless lives. His inventions may not have conquered the marketplace, but his ideas conquered hearts and opened minds.
I believe one day his work will be recognized by the mainstream. That belief is one of the reasons I’ve created this series: to honor Patrick, preserve his legacy, and share his genius with the world. If this story resonates with you, please consider donating to our REMEMBERING PATRICK FLANAGAN crowdfunder to help keep this important work going.
This December marks six years since I lost one of the dearest and most extraordinary friends of my life. There are moments when I wish I still had access to his wisdom—moments like now, when democracy itself seems under siege by creeping autocracy. How I miss being able to hop on Skype for his direct, penetrating take on life in these troubled times.
And now, with 3i/Atlas entering our solar system, I find myself wishing I could share with Pat my intuitive theory: that this celestial traveler—or objects like it—may have passed Earth many times before, acting as catalysts for great evolutionary leaps. Perhaps even sparking the very emergence of life. Perhaps. I emphasize that word. Unlike the charlatans who twist such ideas into cults or new religions, I hold myself to the ethic of never presenting my far-out musings as literal fact.
Corned Beef and ETs
One warm May afternoon in 2013, Patrick and I shared a simple meal together. He looked up from his neatly eaten corned beef sandwich and, with that impish twinkle, asked:
“Any new messages from that ET spirit guide of yours, Ken?”
“Always,” I grinned. “Ohom says hi, Dr. Flanagan—and thanks you for helping me reach Antarctica.”
Patrick dabbed his mouth with a black paper napkin that fluttered in the desert breeze. “Which of the 24 meditations you did there does Ohom think was most important for humanity’s evolution?”
For that answer, I didn’t need to reach out to the 13th dimension of the Orion star system where I imagine Ohom resides. Patrick chuckled, his magical Irish laughter outshining even the noonday Arizona sun.
“I bet. If humanity ever learns to transmute fear into love, Ken, we’ll be ready for galactic society.”
It’s moments like this—stolen flashes of wisdom—that I miss most about working on The Flanagan Experiments and bringing Patrick’s genius to the world.
The Crevasse in Antarctica
I told him about one of those Antarctic meditations. My Argentinian expedition guide had warned me never to wander from the trail: deadly crevasses could be lurking beneath thin crusts of snow, he said. But I wanted untouched, pristine snow for my filming. Feeling divinely guided—and protected by the ET energies that had brought me there on time—I wandered off.
As I began to film, the crust gave way beneath me. I dropped suddenly into whiteness. My life flashed before me—until, with absurd relief, I realized I’d only sunk three feet, snow up to my waist.
Patrick burst into laughter, that same laugh that once earned him an offer to voice Mr. Magoo after Jim Backus’s passing. “That’s ET magic, Ken. Laughter brings love.”
What Patrick Would Say About 3i/Atlas?
Patrick’s inventions will live long after both of us are gone, still whispering his genius to future generations. My favorite is the Neurophone that enhances meditation.
I have been wondering what he’d say about 3i/Atlas—a body hurtling through the solar system at a staggering 60 kilometers per second, the fastest object ever recorded, slipping through at just a five-degree angle to the solar system’s plane. To understand how fast that is, Earth is moving
I suspect he’d enjoy my imaginings—that 3i/Atlas might be a cosmic seed carrier, scattering sparks of intelligence across the universe and truth can become what we make of it. One thing’s for sure. We sure could use a little ET intervention right now.
The world of Alternative Health has always been crowded with fakes and phonies alongside the genuine holistic lifestyle influencers just wanting to feel better through food and lifestyle. The ‘Health Freedom Movement’ mixes questionable radical politics with influencers hawking mental garbage alongside genuinely excellent health products. But Dr. Patrick Flanagan’s work stands apart in a class of its own. His products aren’t just hype — they’re built on decades of passion, scientific curiosity, and genius. The cornerstone of his PhiSciences line is Megahydrate, the supplement many consider the most powerful antioxidant on the planet. Patrick once told me, “Megahydrate is my greatest invention, Ken.”
Back in 2013, filming THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS, I chose to begin introducing Patrick with more philosophical and playful material, waiting for the right moment to build up our YouTube audience before reintroducing Patrick’s products to a new generation of YouTube fans. This warm, April day in Arizona was that moment. At the time, I didn’t know very much about Megahydrate. Certainly I had to get the right moment to make a talk about a supplement intriguing to an audience. So I did the simplest — and wisest — thing: I hit record and stepped back, letting Patrick do what he did best.
Making Light
He sat at his humble office desk, no gimmicks, no scripts, just his boundless enthusiasm. He leaned forward and began:
“On the surface of every star in the universe there is a chemical reaction…”
His eyes lit up as he explained, undiluted for the audience:
“…in which hydrogen protons take on electrons from ionized metals. And these electrons form a chemical reaction creating negative ionized hydrogen. Now, the Nobel Prize was given for this discovery. And basically, all the light — all the light from every star in the universe — comes from this chemical reaction. Sunlight comes down to the Earth and reacts with plants and chlorophyll.”
Patrick wasn’t dumbing it down. He was elevating his listeners. His love for his invention shone through every word. What began as a product talk unfolded into a lecture on the very nature of energy — how the body receives it, how life itself is powered, and how Patrick had found a way to replicate that solar miracle in capsule form.
YT Did What?
That night, as I edited the footage, noshing on a Sonic hot dog, I knew I had something special. I layered a green-screen background of cosmic energy behind him, letting the visuals match the grandeur of his words.
The video went on to reach more than 25 million people over six years. Twenty-five million souls exposed to Patrick’s vision of health, science, and the energy of the stars themselves.
Then, one day, a disgruntled crank lodged a complaint, and YouTube took the video down. Years later, when I reposted it, the algorithms had shifted — and it barely cracked 10,000 views.
But for six glorious years, it burned bright — a digital sunbeam lighting up lives across the globe.
Best Advice
Patrick also gave me a personal piece of advice I’ll never forget. He told me that if I took Megahydrate daily — and combined it with his other great invention, Crystal Energy (which I’ll share more about in a future chapter) — it would slow my aging. I was 60 when I filmed that video, and I’ve taken his advice ever since.
Now, at 72, people usually guess I’m in my early 60s. I can still work a 15-hour day if I want to ;). I hike, bike, and swim daily. I even keep up with my wife Elizabeth — eight years younger and a yoga teacher to me.
Bottom Line: Millions Benefit
The scientist Life Magazine spotlighted in1962, as one of the world’s most promising young minds, lived up to their expectations. His genius didn’t just change science — it changed my life and millions of others.
And in honor of Patrick and his two greatest products, we’re featuring our Hydration Starter Pack and Powder Starter Pack, each with a life-changing two month supply of Megahydrate and Crystal Energy.
When I began filming THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS in the spring of 2013, I was no stranger to cameras or the remarkable personalities of the New Age community. By then, I had already spent three years interviewing and filming luminaries in Los Angeles—people who didn’t just talk about transformation, but embodied it. I’d had the privilege of working with Don Miguel Ruiz, the legendary author of The Four Agreements; Barnet Bain, producer of What Dreams May Come; acclaimed UFO experts; and Connie Miller, founder of Soul Drama, whose work cracked open a breakthrough for my creating DreamShield Planetary Meditations.
These experiences were extraordinary—but nothing prepared me for the joy of working with Dr. Patrick Flanagan.
Patrick wasn’t just a scientist. He was a living fusion of inventor, philosopher, athlete, and mystic—a man whose curiosity about life seemed as boundless as the energy he radiated. To make filming convenient for him, I built a full green-screen set right inside his Cottonwood, Arizona warehouse, just a short stroll from the reception area of his internationally renowned health and wellness company, PhiSciences. It became our creative HQ.
On days when Patrick was available for filming, we would start in the company’s reception room, surrounded by his dedicated staff. These sessions weren’t just “pre-production meetings”—they were brainstorming marathons, fueled by Patrick’s restless mind and his childlike excitement about the next big idea. Often, the conversation would get so energized that I’d grab the camera right there and start rolling.
One afternoon, as an airplane descended into Cottonwood’s small airport just across the street—its engines rattling the office windows—Patrick grinned and said,
“Ken, how about you film me demonstrating how I change my weight at will like I did on Tom Snyder’s show years ago?”
I was all in. “Sure thing.,Dr. Flanagan.”
Mind Over Matter
Before I could press for details, Patrick was already in action. He called over two of his staff—both well over six feet tall—to assist. Patrick’s lean, muscular 5’5” frame, at 69 years old, looked impossibly youthful next to theirs.
The “experiment” was deceptively simple: one man would stand on each side of Patrick, and together they would lift him by placing their hands under his wrists and elbows. At first, Patrick made himself “heavy” by concentrating and shifting his body’s internal energy. The two men strained, their faces reddening. Then, with a subtle shift—an exhale, a moment of mental focus—Patrick suddenly became so “light” they nearly tossed him upward without effort.
It wasn’t a stage trick. I’d been in real estate for 25 years, advising giants like Target Stores, McKinsey & Company, Oprah’s Harpo Studios McDonald’s, and Quaker Oats—my business had taught me to detect B.S. from a mile away. This was something else. Patrick was demonstrating a form of martial arts mind-body control that science still struggles to explain, but that his staff accepted as just another day with Dr. Flanagan.
What struck me most, though, wasn’t just the phenomenon—it was the love in the room. His team, who handled everything from global shipping to research to keeping the books, adored him. They weren’t just employees; they were co-adventurers on a mission to bring better health and higher consciousness to the world.
That bond of loyalty and joy was still alive five years after Patrick’s passing, when PhiSciences continued to run on the momentum he created. And you can feel that warmth—along with Patrick’s mischievous genius—in the video of that day, which remains one of my personal favorites in the entire series.
And here’s an exclusive offer for CTE subscribers in honor of this chapter.
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Before we get started please make a donation at our GoFundMe to keep these stories flowing and going!
Time is Subjective…
Patrick had said we’d film solid for two weeks when I arrived in Sedona in March of 2013. But with Patrick, schedules were always subject to the whims of his latest invention, and five days passed before I’d even get the opportunity to set up my camera again.
I didn’t mind the wait. Filming a genius takes flexibility, and I had plenty—my work lived mostly on the web, and I traveled light. And I already had one viral hit in HUMAN FLIGHT. Besides, Patrick was generous enough to cover my downtime and expenses. The Best Western was beginning to feel like a second home, a place to catch my breath between bursts of brilliance from Patrick.
And with filming on pause, I found myself leaning into the unexpected gift of time. I chipped away at my Coolest Meditation Ever project, tinkering with edits late into the night, and spent daylight hours wandering Sedona’s red‑rock trails. The energy of the place seemed to hum with the same electric curiosity Patrick carried within him, making the wait feel less like idle time and more like a quiet incubation before the next spark.
Sedona Juniper Slows Time Even More…
I’d spent a month in Sedona back in the fall of 2012, on my way down to Antarctica, thanks to a barter deal I’d worked out with a wonderful tour company called Spirit Quest run by the incomparable Kat Lash. Because of that, I already had a circle of healer friends who welcomed me back with open arms on this very cool return from the bottom of the world.
But I was about to learn being in Sedona in the spring is a whole lot different than Sedona the previous fall. All my tourist fun went straight into the spring arroyo. Suddenly, I was hit with a brutal allergy attack from Sedona’s Juniper and Cypress springtime bloom that made my face puff up like a balloon. My eyes were slits; I could barely see. I had to call Pat and tell him we’d need to delay filming for a few days while I got some Benadryl in me to bring the swelling down.
Pat wouldn’t hear of just waiting. “I’ll be right over, Ken,” he said.
A short time later, there he was in the parking lot, climbing down from his giant black Humvee with a canning jar in his hand. He winced when he saw me—my face looked like something out of The Elephant Man.
“Apply this to your inflamed skin once every two hours and you’ll be better in no time,” he said, handing me the jar of pine tar salve infused with his famed Megahydrate and Crystal Energy. We still had not filmed about these two great inventions of his so I was going on complete trust.
I thanked him as he hopped back into his Humvee and roared off. The moment I closed the motel room door behind me, I stepped into the bathroom and applied the salve. The results were nothing short of miraculous. Within hours the swelling began to subside, and by evening I could actually see my face again in the mirror.
That night I called Pat, my voice brighter than it had been in days. “I’m ready to film, if your schedule’s still open.”
Pat laughed, pleased. “There are the advantages of working with one of the top scientists on the planet,” he said proudly, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
The next day on set my face still wasn’t completely back to normal—I could tell from the subtle reactions of the staff, those quick double takes and polite half‑smiles that people give when they’re trying not to stare.
Yellow Star Seed On Set at PhiSciences…
I felt a light tap on my shoulder and turned around. Patrick’s beautiful wife, Stephanie Sutton, stood there smiling, her hand extended.
“Pat’s tied up,” she said warmly. “He said he’d like you to film me in his place.”
We’d met briefly the previous fall, and again in Mexico, and I think she could sense immediately how happy I was for her and Pat—that their earlier tension over this fifty‑video project had clearly softened.
Pat had never mentioned filming Stephanie, but I already knew what a natural presence she could be. I’d seen her lead a stunning ceremony at Chichen Itza using her Starseed name Yellow Crystal Star, radiating poise and purpose. So I set up my gear and we got to work.
We filmed her speaking about the mission of PhiSciences, her words full of grace and clarity, and as she spoke I felt that quiet thrill you get when you know a shot is going to elevate the entire series. Puffy face or not, this was a special moment.
Here’s the Video of Stephanie I filmed that day—with my swollen cheeks and all, and a heart full of gratitude THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS was on track.
Note: The kaleidoscope imagery used in Stephanie’s video is from the beautiful Nellie Bly collection I discovered in the former copper mining town of Jerome, about 45 minutes from Sedona.
Before we get started please make a donation at our GoFundMe to keep these stories flowing and going. And here’s a link to Chapter 8 if you missed it.
The Flanagan Experiments Take Flight
I was getting ready to launch the first interview of Dr. Patrick Flanagan on my BuzzBroz channel, where I’d been steadily stoking excitement for the launch of The Flanagan Experiments, when Patrick himself extended a personal invitation:
“Ken,” he said over the phone, his voice carrying that musical calm that made even a last‑minute request feel like destiny, “come out to the house. Let’s screen it together before the world does.”
That morning felt electric. The Arizona sun was already warming the gravel parking lot outside the Best Western, but inside my little motel room I sat cross‑legged on the bed, meditating. Breathing deeply, I sent the intention out into the quantum sea: May this series be a big hit. May Patrick’s legacy be honored. May it reach the ones who need to hear it most.
By the time I wandered into the lobby for the breakfast buffet, I was buzzing—calm on the outside, but inwardly lighting fireworks. That morning I decided to treat myself. The waffle machine called my name.
As I poured batter and flipped the iron, I noticed two kids—identical twin boys, maybe twelve—watching with big eyes. They were Hispanic, polite, bright, and clearly fascinated with the process. My travels—twice across the continental U.S. filming A Kid’s View of the U.S. and later Kids Talk Politics—had made me a connoisseur of hotel waffle machines. My practiced hands produced a perfect golden disk.
The boys lit up. The mother, young and radiant, stood close by with their father, and when they saw their sons take interest she smiled at me. “Thank you. You are very good with kids,” she said in perfect English.
I grinned, feeling that small surge of pride that sneaks up when strangers notice something real about you. “Raised two of my own,” I said, “and directed over four hundred for my PBS and YouTube specials and Kids Talk Politics series.”
That was probably more detail than she wanted. She nodded, still smiling, and turned back to her family as the twins began to squabble—good‑naturedly—over who got the first waffle. Their laughter filled the small, windowless breakfast room with something pure.
I savored my coffee, the waffle, the moment. Outside, a blue Arizona sky was waiting. Inside, that family’s joy felt like a quiet blessing on the day ahead.
I cleared my plate, said a soft goodbye, and stepped out into the bright desert morning. The GPS on my phone blinked alive. I slid into my rental car, feeling the hum of anticipation, and typed in the address:
Patrick Flanagan’s estate. Fourteen acres of Cottonwood magic.
I followed the GPS off the main highway and onto a winding stretch of two‑lane road, the kind where the world feels quieter with every mile. Pat’s Cottonwood estate was tucked deep into the landscape, perched above the green shimmer of the Verde River.
From the curb, the house looked like something out of a dream—a sprawling one‑story of white stucco, its soft rounded corners catching the morning light. It sat between two smaller homes, one for visiting dignitaries, the other for staff who kept the fourteen acres alive and humming.
I’d seen my share of wealth. Back in Chicago, before my filmmaking chapter, I was a consultant to top CEOs in America—Fortune 500 titans whose estates boasted manicured hedges, glossy marble foyers, and fountains with more ego than water. But this…this was different. Even from outside, Pat’s place radiated innovation and a deep appreciation for the cosmic, as if the building itself had been designed to host ideas as much as people.
I climbed a stone stairway, the Verde River glinting below, and rang the bell. A breeze rustled through cottonwoods. Minutes passed. No answer.
I called Pat on my cell. He picked up with that effortless calm.
“Let yourself in, Ken,” he said. “I’m out back by the pool.”
I stepped into a hallway with a low ceiling and felt like I’d entered a sanctuary. White stucco walls flowed into one another with friendly curves. But these weren’t just walls decorated with art—everywhere I looked there were statues, sacred art objects, relics that felt alive, humming with history and reverence. It was a living museum, spiritual artifacts sharing space with Tesla coils and strange instruments, as though the house itself was in conversation with the universe.
I followed the sound of trickling water to the back and there he was: Patrick Flanagan, relaxing beside an infinity‑edge pool that seemed to dissolve into the desert horizon. He hopped up from his chair and wrapped me in a hug.
Now, I came from the handshake world of Chicago business, where hugs were rare and reserved for family. Even after four years filming notables of the conscious community—Don Miguel Ruiz (The Four Agreements), Barnet Bain, and countless others—I still felt awkward when men hugged. But Pat’s warmth disarmed me. He was already laughing, already pulling me toward the heart of his world.
He invited me into his lab, which he affectionately called “organized chaos.” Scattered notebooks, coils, and prototypes shared space with crystals and sketches of ideas that seemed too big for paper. After he grabbed his laptop we settled into his giant tan leather couch to watch.
I hit play on the first episode—Human Flight.
Pat’s face softened as the screen lit up. He watched himself sitting calmly at his desk while, through some editing magic, he appeared to be floating thirty‑five thousand feet above the clouds, speaking with that measured wisdom about how reality is inner, not outer—and why we should avoid carbonated soft drinks.
When the video ended, Pat turned to me with a mischievous glint in his eye. He asked me to raise my hand with my palm facing him, and brought his palm to mirror mine with just a few inches of space between our palms.
“This is a Hi Phi,” he said.
You read that right. A Hi Phi. If you’ve seen the later video in our series (also below), you’ll know the little marvel he and Stephanie had co‑created during their Burning Man OZ days—a subtle, touchless energy exchange as their update on the traditional hard slap of a high five!
I asked, “So… you and Stephanie patched things up?”
He shook his head gently. “Not yet.” Then, leaning forward, he asked the question that lit my creative heart on fire:
“What’s next, Ken? How do we get this video out there in a big way?”
These were still the early days of YouTube. I explained how we could prime the algorithms by buying a small push of views, enough to spark the engine. I showed him one of my own successes—50 State Rhyme from Kids Talk Politics. “Just five thousand views,” I told him, “and the whole series took off—over a million organic views after that.”
Pat’s eyes widened. He was in.
We primed Human Flight—and sure enough, it soared. Our first viral. Over one million views. Here’s a link to The Flanagan Experiments on DVD if you still use that tech. Or watch it on Vimeo.
Bonus: Here’s an interview filmed on Patrick’s Cottonwood estate where he shares his secret for success.
Before we get started please make a donation at our GoFundMe to keep these stories flowing and going.
With a couple of days until Patrick was ready to film again, I had time to dive into the edit. I sat down at the desk of my humble Best Western hotel room in Cottonwood, Arizona—nothing glamorous, just the necessary quiet space to focus.
I had two hours of green screen footage with Patrick, which, by my favorite 10-to-1 ratio, meant I had enough gold for about twenty minutes of polished content—two strong videos if I played it right.
First step: find the emotional and philosophical heartbeat of The Flanagan Experiments. I skimmed the footage, listening not just for clarity but for inspiration. And there it was—Patrick riffing on vibration. How the entire universe, at its core, is nothing but waves and resonance.
That became my opening theme.
Unlike my narrative film work, where I write lines for fictional characters, in documentary film you write with the voice of your subject. You shape, not script. And Patrick Flanagan was, and remains, the most fascinating subject I’ve ever worked with. Ten years before AI, it was just me, Final Cut Pro, and Patrick’s voice—guiding me.
I pulled vibrant cosmic stock clips from StoryBlocks and sound design from AudioBlocks. Patrick spoke with deliberate slowness, a rhythm he explained was the result of overcoming a childhood stutter. That rhythm carried his intelligence like a steady drumbeat—but I trimmed some of the longer pauses so the ideas could land for a lay audience without losing the soul of his delivery.
Every frame I adjusted, every thought I rearranged, felt like a sculptor tapping into marble and revealing something sacred truth underneath. I upgraded the green screen look with a plugin, layered in footage of stars and DNA spirals, and began to build a bin system for Patrick’s mental cosmos—topics like the pineal gland, vibrational medicine, and his central belief: that the universe is within us.
The more I edited, the more I listened. And the more I listened, the smarter I felt. Pat had that effect.
The next day, I let it all simmer.
I made the short drive to Sedona and returned to the Amitabha Stupa and Peace Park—one of my favorite spiritual spots from my last journey through there, just before departing to Antarctica to film The Coolest Meditation Ever: Antarctica 12.12.12. The energy of that sacred ground helped me reset and reconnect. I’d uploaded a rough cut of the Human Flight segment to YouTube so I could review it on my Android. I listened there beneath the red rocks, watching clouds drift overhead, Pat’s voice rising in my earbuds like a calm wind.
His tone was quiet, yet resonant. Magnetic. As I walked, I began to imagine how to score the video—what music would elevate his words without overpowering them. Something that moved like a current beneath revelation as the words THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS in the spiritual yet masculine looking type-style Herculaneum embodies.
Back at the motel, I worked deep into the night.
Although this was a 50-video series, I knew the first few episodes would set the tone for everything—and I also knew how much that mattered to Pat, to the fans waiting, and to Stephanie, who was still angry he had made the deal with me without looping her in. That weighed on me. I wanted her to see the love and care going into every frame.
I kept returning to one extraordinary thing Patrick said mid-interview that had struck me on set:
“In the not too distant future, humanity will have full-on telepathic abilities. We’ll be able to levitate… even fly through the air at will.”
I paused when I heard that again. Goosebumps. It wasn’t just bold—it was prophetic.
I remembered a shot I’d seen on StoryBlocks: a still image high above the clouds, with the curve of the Earth bending gently in the distance. That’s where I placed Patrick—behind his desk in the clouds, a scientist perched on the edge of tomorrow.
I closed my laptop.
The future had arrived. And it spoke in the voice of Patrick Flanagan.
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The set was ready. Nothing glamorous—just an old metal office desk with a fake walnut top. But I knew how to light it so it popped against the green screen. Two cameras, sound rolling, everything locked down and ready. Except Patrick.
He was about an hour late, which I’d already begun to expect would become common. His staff caught me glancing at my phone and smiled.
“Patrick’s part Cherokee,” one of them said. “He works on Indian time. He might not be here for another hour or two.”
Right then, like a summoned spirit, Patrick entered. No apology, no rush—just his signature megawatt smile and an instant sense that something special was about to happen.
He scanned the set with a twinkle in his eye.
“I’ve got just the thing that’ll make this video look more scientific,” he said, already pivoting back toward the warehouse shelves.
Thirty seconds later, he returned cradling a massive glass sphere—three feet wide.
“Wow,” I said, genuinely impressed.
“It’s an evaporator I used to experiment with,” he said proudly, like a kid unveiling his science fair project. I set it on the desk beside him and took my stool behind camera one. Camera two, side view from the right, was already rolling.
The green screen hung still in the dry air. No AC. No hum. Just the open quiet of a warehouse in early March—before Arizona turns into an oven. A sacred kind of silence.
Then we began.
What followed was two solid hours of pure gold—until my batteries tapped out. We covered everything. His adventures beating the crap tables in Las Vegas. His childhood fascinations. His teenage breakthroughs. Then, he went deeper—back to his crib, literally.
“I remember looking at my toes,” he said calmly, “and thinking, Oh my God. I’m a baby again. I have to grow this body up all over again to continue my work.”
He was dead serious. In that moment, he remembered being Tesla. He remembered the transition.
Only Patrick Flanagan could say that and somehow make you wonder, What if?
We moved from story to story—how he beat the Vegas craps tables with a foolproof system, only to have goons nearly bury him in the desert.
Between tales, he sipped from a huge metal flask and made sure I did too.
“You gotta hydrate, Ken. This place’ll dry you out. Grab some Megahydrate powder from the team—trust me, it’ll light you up.” I took his advice. He smiled slyly and said, “Just making sure you can do the job my wife left me for.”
That one cut.
“Pat,” I said, shifting to that brave-but-wobbly tone I use when I’m out of my depth. “If this is going to cause trouble with your marriage, I won’t hold you to our contract.”
His face softened. “Don’t worry. Stephanie’ll come around when she sees the first video. That’s my bet. You got enough of me yet, Ken?”
“Not yet.” I checked the camera. “Although, I don’t love the glare off that evaporator. Might mess with the green screen.”
“Take it away!” he laughed. And on we went. As I pressed deeper, Patrick sharpened. I’ve interviewed over a thousand people in my documentary career—one of those docs even aired on PBS right before a presidential debate. I know how to coax truth and wonder out of folks not used to the camera. But with Patrick, I barely had to try.
He opened up like a superconductor. And then we hit the topic that changed everything—levitation. He started slowly, but his energy shifted. Eyes lit. Shoulders relaxed. And suddenly, we weren’t talking about products anymore.
We were talking about Human Flight.
He described visions of people flying with nothing but thought and vibration. Of ancient knowledge lost and rediscovered. Of the science behind spiritual potential. He forgot all about supplements and patents, and went full cosmic.
He shared stories of early Burning Man days—how he and Stephanie were among the first to set up camp when the playa was still more myth than movement. One year, he told me, they built an entire Emerald City—a tribute to The Wizard of Oz. Patrick, naturally, played the Wizard himself, beaming out from behind a wall of lights and circuitry, while Stephanie plays Dorothy. He showed me photos on his iPhone—grainy, glowing, and unforgettable.
Patrick Flanagan as The Wizard at Burning Man
Yeah. He was missing her. Every story seemed to find its way back to Stephanie. She wasn’t just part of his past—she was still burning in his present. And as I watched him light up talking about her, I silently promised myself: I was going to make a video so good, it might help bring her back.
Right there in that quiet March warehouse, I knew. Human Flight would be the video to launch The Flanagan Experiments. He wasn’t just a scientist. He was a soul in takeoff.
Watch HUMAN FLIGHT below… and I think you’ll understand.
I’ve been blessed with some truly amazing clients over the years. The most world-famous? Oprah Winfrey. Out of all the developers in Chicago, she chose me to oversee the $28 million construction of her iconic Harpo Studios. With the help of my stellar team at Oxford Realty, we brought Oprah’s dream to life—on time and on budget. Midway through the project, I discovered, to my astonishment, that Oprah and I had actually gone to the same high school. That serendipitous connection with Harpo Studios—and the success of the build—earned me the Chicago Sun-Times Developer of the Year award.
Oprah Winfrey, Jeffrey Jacobs, Ken Sheetz at Harpo Studios, 1991
But what I took away most from working with Oprah was the inspiration to follow my own creative dreams. That inspiration led me from building skyscrapers and corporate headquarters to making films.
My first famous client in my new life as a filmmaker was none other than Dr. Patrick Flanagan—a genius mind described by Deepak Chopra as “a gift to humanity.” Our connection came at a low point in my life. I had just returned from a peak experience–filming my Antarctica expedition for The Coolest Meditation Ever. Nearly broke and crashing on an air mattress on a friend’s dining room floor in Studio City, I was preparing for crowdfunding the post-production editing of the film.
To make matters harder, Elizabeth—the woman I believed Spirit had told me was my perfect partner—had gently told me she wasn’t ready for a relationship at the time. My confidence was bruised. But on my way back from Antarctica, I had filmed Patrick at Chichén Itzá, and that brief collaboration sparked something powerful.
When I called Patrick to pitch a full series of Flanagan videos, he was immediately warm and receptive. I kept it simple:
“Patrick, I’d like to produce a 50-video web series using your line of innovative PhiSciences products. Each video would showcase a different experiment, crafted to engage a whole new generation of fans on YouTube.”
Patrick didn’t even pause.
“How much?”
“Expenses plus $20,000,” I said.
“When can you start?”
I explained I had one last gig promoting the One Love Fest in Ojai, but after that, I’d be free to film the entire series over two weeks in early March.
“See you in March, Ken!”
Just like that, I was off to film a visionary. Patrick and I would go on to create the 50-part docu-series THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS, an exciting story of Patrick’s visionary science and spiritual insight entirely ahead of its time.
The final days in LA flew by. I packed my gear, said goodbye to my pal Tom, and hit the road to Sedona. I thought I’d be gone two weeks.
I wouldn’t move back to California for eleven life-changing years in the renowned red rocks of Sedona!
Cathedral Rock Spires, Ken Sheetz & Elizabeth England of CoolestMeditationEver.com (and Lincoln)
Filming, Fate, and the Woman a Blue-Skinned ET Traveler Told Me to Marry
By Ken Sheetz
After filming Pat at Chichén Itzá on an overpriced Cannon video camera I’d bought last-minute at the Cancun airport—because the one I’d used in Antarctica, a gift from my former roommate Bradley Quick, had died just as I docked in Ushuaia—as I broke down the shoot I told Pat the horror story of how hard it had been to keep our date for the once-in-5,000-year end of the Mayan calendar.
The night before my departure from Ushuaia, Argentina—basically the end of the world—the only card I had with a balance, my PayPal card, got swallowed by an ATM. Just like that, gone. What saved me? A sharp memory and something… stranger.
Weeks earlier, aboard the research ship heading back from Antarctica, I’d entered a deep meditative state and connected—again—with the blue-skinned being who had first appeared to me in Italy back in 2010. Ohom.
I asked, “Of the women I’ve been meeting in LA’s New Age circles… if I were to finally settle down, who would be the best match for me?”
Without hesitation, Ohom replied, “Elizabeth England is the perfect mate for you.”
Elizabeth England at the Jerome, AZ Butterfly
I didn’t know then how prophetic that answer would become. I had only met Elizabeth a handful of times at various LA Dreamshield events I’d been holding at Ohom’s guidance. I knew little about her. But I did know this: Ohom had helped me before—and apparently wasn’t done.
Back in Ushuaia, after the ATM disaster, I sat stunned, broke, unsure if I’d even make it to Mexico. Then, out of nowhere, PayPal glitched. A transfer I had already written off suddenly appeared in my account.
Call it luck. Call it tech. I call it Ohom.
With that miracle money, I began the brutal journey north. The Mayan symposium had promised to pick me up at the Cancun airport—after I’d spent everything I had—but never showed. Pat was furious when I told him. He’d practically funded the event himself, and they were dropping the ball left and right.
I had just six hours to get to Chichén Itzá to film him.
“Well, how did you get to me?” he asked, concerned.
I explained how I’d struck a desperate deal with a taxi driver to take me to the symposium. He gave me five minutes to find the director and get him paid. I searched everywhere—no Pat, no Nick, no director. So the driver took my luggage as fare. Everything but the shirt on my back, gone.
Screenshot
Pat loved the story of Ohom’s dating advice and the journey to him and he said as he shook my hand goodbye, “Well, I appreciate you going to the max to honor your bargain to film me here,” he said. “You ever want to film me again, just ask.”
They’d filled the resort Pat and his wife Stephanie, busy somewhere at the symposium were staying at, so I booked a cheap room nearby, washed the clothes I’d been living in for 50 hours, bought a symposium T-shirt, and collapsed into a hammock.
As I drifted off to the sounds of the Mexican jungle surrounding the pyramid of Chichen Itza, I thought of Antarctica. Of Ohom. Of Elizabeth. And of the dream that had brought me here, against all odds, to film one of the most remarkable minds on Earth.
Next up for my Remembering Patrick Flanagan stories. Breaking the news to Elizabeth that a thought traveling ET thought she was my perfect mate and my perfect pitch to Dr. Flanagan.
Welcome to the first in the REMEMBERING DR. PATRICK FLANAGAN series.
It’s been 12 years since I filmed Patrick for a web series of 50 green screen videos we called THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS. I built the set myself, right inside his PhiSciences.com Cottonwood, Arizona warehouse. The series achieved viral status, with over 30 million views—an extraordinary run that would lead to the $1.2 million IndieGoGo I ran for Patrick for his brain boosting Neurophone
Dr.. Flanagan Age 17, featured as one of America’s most promising scientists
You can thank my amazing wife and partner, Elizabeth, for encouraging me to pause our current film and meditation projects (you can sneak a peek at them on KenSheetz.com) and take time to reminisce with you about one of the most unforgettable experiences of my life: filming one of the planet’s most brilliant and eccentric scientists.
I first met Patrick in October 2012…
as I was passing through Sedona on my way to Antarctica for The Coolest Meditation Ever project. A mutual friend, Nick Edwards—whom I’d met during my time in Malibu and one of Patrick’s closest pals—gave me his number and said, “Patrick Flanagan is one of the most game-changing people you’ll ever meet. You owe me big time for this intro to your Antarctica project.” Nick couldn’t have been more right.
To my surprise and delight, when I called Patrick, he picked me up personally—something I hadn’t experienced in a decade of working with Hollywood celebrities guarded by layers of assistants. I had given him my pitch over the phone: I was heading to Antarctica to perform 24 meditations on ice to help elevate human consciousness. He loved the idea and committed to donating right then and there. “Next time you’re in Sedona, come visit,” he added casually. I laughed and said, “I am in Sedona—my spirit guide sent me here to tune up before Antarctica.”
Without missing a beat, Patrick invited me to see the new James Bond movie for a…
Bonding experience.
So I gulped down my Starbucks and headed over to the Harkins Theater. Patrick met me at the popcorn stand, accompanied by a towering 6’4” friend named Somas—who made Patrick’s 5’5” frame look even more petite. His wife Stephanie greeted me with a quick, warm hello before slipping off to watch a different movie on another screen.
As I sat between Patrick and Somas watching Skyfall, it became instantly clear that Patrick and I shared a love for action movies and a wicked sense of humor. After the film, we said our goodbyes with excitement—we knew we’d meet again soon, this time at Chichen Itza. As part of Patrick’s generous donation, I had been invited to film him at the Mayan calendar symposium, where he was a featured speaker.
My journey south—and the 24 meditations on Antarctic ice—went off without a hitch. Thanks to an unexpected (and miraculous) accounting error that led PayPal to advance me funds early, I was able to make it to Chichen Itza just in time to film Patrick for the very first time.
Here’s the very first footage I filmed of Pat in Mexico.
Enjoy—and stay tuned over the next 50 weeks as I take you behind the scenes of what it was like working with Patrick and his brilliant wife, Stephanie, on the viral hit web series THE FLANAGAN EXPERIMENTS.
Disclaimer: These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. The products featured on this site are not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease. Always consult with your healthcare provider before beginning any wellness program or using any product.
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