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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.
