The secrets of the universe are hidden

 in the details of our experience. Pete

Inside Ivy

Inside Ivy will change the way you look at plants and the world forever!

By Roger A. "Pete" Peterson

The “Ivy” in question is a Philodendron or silver-leafed Arrow Head plant. We bought it in the late 1970s to hang from the ceiling next to the kitchen table in the small dining room of our two-story townhouse on the 800 block of McAllister Street in San Francisco. Once the plant’s vines had grown down several feet, it became necessary to sweep them aside to sit at the back of the table. We considered this a small price to pay because the plant looked so beautiful between the two corner windows near the front door. However, when the plant’s leaves began to sweep the floor and we had to be careful not to step on them, we knew it was only a matter of time before we’d have to find Ivy a new home.

It’s a dark and dreary Saturday morning in the middle of winter when the moment-of-truth finally arrives. The four of us, Crystal, Evan, my wife, Sandra, and I are just about finished with breakfast when Sandra says she wants to clean the dining room windows. To make it easy for her, I take the ivy plant down and set the pot in the middle of the kitchen table. The vines are so long I have to move them out of the way for Sandra to get to the windows without stepping on them. Looking at the plant, I’m amazed to see almost four feet of vines still lying on the floor. This is it, I think. It’s time to find Ivy a new home!

In silent admiration, my eyes travel down the full length of the plant from the pot in the center of the table to the end of the vines lying on the floor. I don’t know if it’s the momentum of my eye movement or if my eyes have a mind of their own but for some reason, they continue to move across the floor beyond the end of the vines until they encounter the bottom of the stairwell against the side wall. With a shock of recognition, it dawns on me that this is the only place in the house that can provide Ivy with enough room to grow. A second shock of recognition hits me when I think about the skylight directly above the stairs. When I moved the vines out of Sandra’s way, I had unconsciously pointed them in the direction of the stairwell. Wow, was there a larger hand at work here? For a long time we knew we’d have to find Ivy a new home but, until Sandra decided to clean the windows, we didn’t think beyond that.

Excited, I climb several stairs to explore the idea further. Through my mind’s eye, I can see the plant’s green and white leaves against the white background of the wall as they cascade down the stairwell. Imaginatively, I watch them grow all the way down the handrail, and yes, even down to the floor below. Oh well, we can cross that bridge when we come to it. Right now there’s only one question left, will the plant pot fit safely on the ledge at the top of the stairwell? Grabbing a tape measure, I hurry upstairs to see. Wow, talk about magic, the ledge is exactly the same width as the base of the plant pot, six inches! Clearly, the stairwell under the skylight is the perfect spot for Ivy.

When Ivy took up residence in the stairwell, I developed a new and interesting habit. Every time I climbed the stairs to go to bed at night, I would admire the plant’s beautiful leaves as they cascaded down the wall. When I reached the plant pot in the upstairs hallway, I would lower my face close enough to feel its aura (energy field) with my own. Silently, I would say, Hi, how are you tonight? After my question, I’d wait for a back-surge of energy from the plant. I accepted this as the plant’s way of saying “Hello” in return. After basking in the glow of the plant’s energy for a few seconds, I’d then finish with, “Well, good night, I’ve got to go to bed now. See you in the morning!”

I performed this ritual every night for several months until one night something different happened, something special! This time, when I leaned over the plant to say “Hello”, I noticed its energy field was much stronger than usual. After my nightly greeting, I blissfully bathed in the tingly feeling of its energy and wondered why it was so strong. Not receiving a response to my vague wonderment, I shrugged and prepared to say goodnight. Suddenly a barrier let go and my consciousness began pouring out of my body and down into the plant like milk from a pitcher. More than just falling, I felt the plant drawing me in. When the sense of falling stopped, I sat up and wondered where I was. With surprise, I could see I was in a tiny rootlet of the ivy plant, a small hair-like structure growing off one of the main roots.

To my further surprise, I found I was sharing my thoughts and feelings with another consciousness. The rootlet and I were in direct communication! We were sharing our thoughts, images, and feelings as if we were of one mind. When I wondered something about the plant, I got an answer. For example, when I first wondered where I was, I saw myself inside this particular rootlet of the plant. Not only can I see myself inside the rootlet under the soil, I can also see outside the plant itself as it rises up and spills over the edge of the pot. Observing the plant from this perspective, I am acutely aware it’s a gigantic living structure whose joy comes from actualizing the values of beauty and grace. It is a vast community of living souls, each one individual, yet connected to, and dependent upon, each other as they work together to co-create and maintain the physical structure of this beautiful plant.

I can even look out beyond the plant and see the rooms around the stairwell. As I exercise this ability, I watch and listen as my wife and children prepare for bed. My own body, with its eyes closed, is still leaning over the plant supported on its elbows. For a moment, I consider returning to my body but this thought pales in comparison to the excitement of exploring my new surroundings. It is now clear to me that the plant is aware of everything that goes on in the house, including our whereabouts and changing emotional states. I suddenly become aware that as “keepers” of the plant, we are literally extensions of it. It is completely dependent upon us for survival in its separation from the earth. We are its only source of food and water. And hidden deep within this knowledge is a seed of fear and resentment. Any failure on our part to provide the plant with proper care will result in suffering and even death.

Disturbed by the weight of these thoughts, and remembering my sometimes careless regard for plants in the past, I quickly turn my attention in a new direction. I begin to alter the physical structure of the rootlet itself. To me the rootlet’s whiteness represents the energy of all possibilities, a blank slate from which I can create whatever I want. Only half aware of my role in creating my new reality,  I watch in delight as the rootlet begins to hollow out and transform into the control room of a highly advanced starship. Appearing in a console before me is a large screen containing images of the stars and control symbols. In excitement, I create a handsome, male body in an immaculate white uniform.

Even though I suspect the control room represents the power of my own unfettered imagination, the symbolism of a starship and control room lead me to believe that I can move anywhere through time and space at will, and that I have the power to deal with whatever obstacles I encounter. When the control panel comes to life and I begin to understand, or remember, how to use its amazing technology, my imagination fills with thoughts and images of the far-off places and wild adventures I can experience with the power of this ship. I decide that a featureless white uniform is just too plain for a Starship Captain, or dare I say, Master of the Universe. With this grand thought, fancy gold braids and buttons begin to appear on my uniform. As I watch them appear and disappear in accordance with my will and sense of fashion, I suddenly remember my host, the personality energy essence, or soul of the rootlet. Embarrassed, I quickly snap back to the reality of my newfound friend to find him patiently awaiting my return.

I begin to wonder about the nature of the rootlet’s reality, when suddenly I begin to experience it. I become the spirit and intent of the rootlet, barely separate enough to have my own thoughts. Slowly and relentlessly I/we begin to push aside grains of sand as we grow in search of food and moisture to feed the plant. Not only do we look for pockets of the most important nutrients, using both logic and intuition, we look for the most efficient pathway to reach them.

Growing impatient with this slow pace of learning, I switch to different intuitive processes to speed things up. Like looking at a magic video of the rootlet’s life experience, I can review the rootlet’s growth history from the past and into the future as fast or as slow as I want. I experience the varying levels of light and dark as night turns into day and back again and as the height and depth of our growing varies. The rootlet has awareness and intent similar to my own.

I become acutely aware of the rootlet’s normal emotional state. From within its consciousness, I can feel the profound sense of love, honesty, and joy it exudes as it goes about fulfilling its unique potential in life. It knows that its being is unique and important to the life of the plant and All That Is. It does not question its value or role, and it wastes no time comparing itself to others. It simply rejoices in its own being and the being of all life.

Suddenly I’m looking back at our relationship to see how it could have resulted in this amazing experience. What allowed the barriers between us to fall so we could share our unique, individualized energy? Was the love I felt for the plant so strong it enabled me to pass some kind of spiritual muster required for this sort of thing to happen? As I ponder this question, I know the answer is yes and I feel blessed beyond compare!

As I leave the plant, I feel a profound sense of awe for it, especially my tiny host, the Personality Energy Essence that expresses itself as the rootlet. It is so open, loving, and wise, much more so than me, I think. There I go again, comparing myself to an ideal and flogging myself because I don’t think I measure up. What a waste of time! Why can’t I accept the uniqueness and beauty of others, as well as myself, and let it go at that? Why do I have to be unhappy being me and not appreciate what I can do as a unique, individualized expression of All That Is? In other words, why do I insist on feeling bad about myself when there are so many reasons to feel good? Someday I’ll learn to stop doing this to myself and won’t that be a leap forward in my spiritual evolution! With this final thought, I easily slip back into my own body.

Overview

When my daughter, Crystal, read Inside Ivy twenty one years later, she asked me if I had been on drugs when it happened. She remembered I had experimented with LSD and marihuana during this period in my life. I laughed and said, “No!” although I suppose a lot of people will wonder the same thing. If nothing else, this experience raises many questions. What caused my basic identity, the I Am of me, to flow out of my body like milk from a pitcher while my body remained leaning over the plant? How could my essence or perspective shrink to accommodate the smaller size of the rootlet? Also, how could the rootlet and I share one another’s thoughts and feelings without words as if they were our own? How could I move forward and backward through time at will to explore the rootlet's past, present, and probable future experience? Finally, there was my imaginative flight of fancy inside the rootlet when I created a small human body and transformed the material of the rootlet into a powerful, computerized starship. How could I do that? Was I formless before I created a new body? How could I do any of these things unless my core self, the I Am of me, is essentially nonphysical, inherently creative, and capable of existing in multiple forms and multidimensional settings?

For example, in one experience in the late 1970s, I hovered above my body, patted it on the shoulder, and told it to "Relax, I'll be back" before floating through my bedroom door, down the hallway, and through my daughter Crystal's bedroom to help save the day in another reality. The experience began as a dream but soon became an out-of-body experience. In the dream, the members of my present family and I were on vacation at a lake similar to one from my early childhood a few miles east of Lewiston, Maine. As we sat around the Kitchen table enjoying breakfast and joking with one another, we began to hear a thrumming sound in the air and feel vibrations through the floor. Together we ran outdoors to see what was going on. As we stood in the street the thrumming and vibration became even more intense. At some point in this experience, concern for my family's safety brought me fully awake in this alternate reality. Wanting to know what was happening; I jumped in our car and drove off to locate the source of these frightening phenomena.

About two miles from the house, as I circled the lake, I discovered a large open space protected by a chain link fence. Standing near a large cave entrance at the end of this open space was a small group of men in hardhats talking a great deal of excitement. It was obvious the sounds and vibrations were coming from the cave. I could actually see the air shimmer as it came out of the opening. Suddenly, I realized or remembered there was a nuclear power plant built inside the cave that used the lake water for coolant. Turning the car around, I raced back to warn the neighbors and drive my family to safety.

When I knew they were safe, I woke up in this reality. However, after a moment's thought, I knew I had to go back; I couldn't abandon these people in the face of potential disaster, even if they did live in different reality from my own. My desire to help them was so strong I easily rolled out of my physical body to start the out-of-body portion of this experience. To read a full account of this dream and my out-of-body experience, look under Out-of-Body Experiences in the Storage Vault, http://www.realtalklibrary.com/. It first appeared in the Sept.1980 issue of Coordinate Point magazine,

In other dreams, I've experienced life in other forms. In one such dream, I was a rodent living in a cold, wintry climate. I had powerful hind legs and tunneled through the snow. It felt wonderful to use the power in my hind legs to push and kick myself forward through the snow. In yet another dream, I was an insect in an insect war standing on the carapace (back) of a large beetle. I had just killed it by running it through with my proboscis (long sword-like nose). While I reveled in my warrior prowess, another insect ran me through from behind. Badly injured, I crawled to the safety of a nearby sidewalk gutter opening to evaluate the extent of my wound. As I lay hidden by concrete debris I determined the injury was not fatal. Leaving my insect body I woke up in this reality. In another instance, I programmed my dreams to give me the experience of being a shark and a snake, two life forms I’ve been afraid of. Both dream experiences were vivid and revealing.

Experiences like these lead to even more questions. For example, what happens when our bodies lie asleep in bed at night, or when we close our eyes and have vivid flights of fancy? In these altered states of consciousness, how can we see, hear, feel, taste, and touch the things we do when our physical bodies and senses are inactive? In other words, what are dreams? What are imagination, intuition, telepathy, precognition, near-death-experience, and remote viewing? We all dream and use our ability to imagine or mentally picture events whether they appear later in our reality or not. In addition, many of us can recall moments when we knew something but didn't know how we knew it. These intuitive flashes of insight, or moments of direct knowing, represent a process that is different from rational thinking. With rational thought we achieve knowing through logic or by following a known sequence of events to a logical conclusion. Like a rat running through a maze, it takes time to reach rational conclusions. With intuitive processes, however, knowing is direct and instantaneous. It operates outside of time as we know it.

Inside Ivy clearly demonstrates that it is possible for us to communicate with other life forms, which brings us to the following question. If we can "talk" to plants and animals through the use of our Inner Senses - why don't we?  Won't we learn more about them by looking at the world from their perspective than by killing them and dissecting their bodies? Like studying other life forms, what's to stop us from using our Inner Senses to experience what it's like to be an organ or cell in our own body, or even an atom? The potential benefits of using direct or intuitive knowing to explore medical conditions are enormous.

For that matter, why don't we use our Inner Senses to explore the far corners of the universe? Remote Viewers like Ingo Swann have already proven this is possible. In a 1973 experiment called the Jupiter Probe, conducted by the Stanford Research Institute (now SRI International), he projected his consciousness to the planet Jupiter and described what he saw there while NASA's Pioneer 10 spacecraft was enroute but too far away to get any readings. Data collected by Pioneer 10 in 1973, Pioneer 11 in 1974, and the Voyager 1 and 2 probes in 1979 yielded information that virtually matched Ingo Swann's findings as described in his notes and drawings. The 1973 Remote Viewing Probe of the Planet Jupiter. By developing skill in using our Inner Senses, there is the promise of new discoveries that will transform our lives in ways we have yet to imagine, and there is the promise that we will finally move beyond childhood's end in terms of our spiritual evolution, reducing by far the pain and suffering we now create and endure.

Since my Ivy experience, I've often wondered why I ended up inside the rootlet as opposed to another part of the plant. Did the plant select the rootlet to be my host? Was the rootlet special in the hierarchy of the plant? Did the rootlet volunteer? Did I intuitively select the rootlet because I could sense its love and openness to me? Were the other plant entities, thinking of the leaves in particular, as pleasant and balanced as the rootlet? Do plants and their various parts exhibit values such as jealousy, competition, love, and hate between themselves like humans?

Even though I could see outside the rootlet, it felt almost as if I was restricted to it; that other parts of the plant were off limits to me. Did these parts of the plant object to my presence? Did they distrust me? Were these thoughts and feelings projections of my own consciousness? Alas, I'll never know why I ended up inside the rootlet because the Ivy in this story is gone. When we moved to Santa Rosa, California in 1980, we were unable to duplicate the living conditions Ivy enjoyed in San Francisco. The best we could do was hang the pot from the ceiling and drape Ivy's vines across the curtain rod above the patio door. She didn't like this arrangement and died within a year.

In December 1999, Sandra agreed to man a Toys-for-Tots booth at the Coddingtown Shopping Mall in Santa Rosa for several hours. I agreed to go with her. During one of many lulls, I discovered we were sitting in front of a large concrete planter full of ivy. Sharing the pot with many other kinds of ivy was a silver-leafed philodendron like Ivy. As memories of my experience inside Ivy flooded back to mind, I stood up to get a better look at these magnificent plants. While admiring their outer beauty, part of my consciousness slipped into the underground world of their root systems. Exploring this dark world of dampness and life reminded me that we are all on a common journey of spiritual growth and self-realization. It doesn't matter whether we express our being as atoms, plants, or humans, as spiritual entities each of us yearns to express our own greatest potential because, intuitively, we know life itself depends on that. How could we survive for one second if this was not the case? As I communed with these beautiful plants, I not only felt great love for them, I felt at one with them and All That Is. This is one time I'm glad I volunteered!

One final note: Like all matter, milk is composed of numerous tiny atoms clumped together to form molecules. At certain temperatures, milk is able to flow because of the loose associations between its individual molecules. What does the experience of pouring out of my body "like milk from a pitcher" imply? Is basic identity or consciousness itself made up of many tiny units that can scatter and flow like physical atoms and molecules? What else can explain the small amount of consciousness left behind to maintain the integrity of my standing body while the major portion of my identity resided in the ivy plant? How else can we be aware of more than one stimulating thought at the same time? And why is it often so difficult for us to focus on only one thing at a time? Is all energy aware? What else but universal awareness can explain the exquisite design and detail evident in all things at all levels of being? What else but love and a sense of purpose can explain the cooperation evident in the support of all life and relationships? These are intriguing questions, I'm sure you'll agree.

Compassion Exercise

Look at the world through other people’s eyes

After my experience with Ivy, I found myself wanting to look at the world from other perspectives. One day while sitting in my bus at a stop in downtown Santa Rosa, I saw an interesting looking girl on the street and wondered what the world looked like through her eyes. Instantly, I began to see the world from her perspective like it was my own. I could look down and see her body and know what it looked like and how it felt. I could examine her life and know what she thought and felt about herself and life in general, what her attitudes and values were and how they were formed. How accurate were my perceptions of her? I don’t know. All I know is when I looked at the world through her eyes I was her and me at the same time. After returning to my own body, I recalled dreams in which I moved from one person’s perspective to another as each one spoke. Every one was a different me looking out at the world from a different perspective, each one defined by a different body, different experiences, different memories, and different beliefs.

Now when I catch myself making judgments about people, I stop and switch to their viewpoint. It reminds me of how difficult and challenging it is to create life as a human being. Lost in our individual human experience it is easy to feel discouraged, unloved, and lonely. It is easy to feel hurt and be warped by our experience because physical and emotional pain is felt so exquisitely. Unlike Inner Reality where creation is painless, spontaneous, and instantaneous, creation in Outer Reality requires time and concentration of effort with painful consequences if we make poor choices. We are One but it is easy to forget that when life in physical reality demands so much of our attention to stay in the game.

This exercise and dreams like The Ball of Light, a Dream about the Nature of Consciousness and Being, help me remember my oneness with everyone and everything, and it gives me a new respect for the role and value of individuality. From every perspective I’ve viewed, I see intelligence and awareness peeking out and trying to adjust to an ever changing world of thoughts, feelings, and events. I know my life as Roger Peterson is Temporary but my being as a Point of View with personality seems to be eternal. When I look at the world through another person’s eyes, I see another me looking out at the world from a unique, individualized perspective. This exercise helps me remember our Oneness and feel compassion for others.

The Inner Senses

If they are working properly, our five outer senses enable us to see, hear, taste, touch and smell, but what do our Inner Senses enable us to do? In the The Seth Material, a book written by Jane Roberts and first published by Prentice-Hall, Inc. in September 1970, Seth describes the Inner Senses and how they work. My copy of The Seth Material is a paperback book edition, published by Bantam Books in February 1976. The names and definitions of the Inner Senses appear on pages 278-286. The copyright holder, Robert F. Butts, Jane Robert's husband when she died September 5, 1984, has graciously given me permission to reprint them here. Like our outer senses, the only way to validate the Inner Senses is to use them and observe the results.

Inner Vibrational Touch - Think of the Inner Senses as paths leading to an inner reality. The first sense involves perception of a direct nature--instant cognition through what I can only describe as inner vibrational touch. Imagine a man standing on a typical street of houses and grass and trees. This sense would permit him to feel the basic sensations felt by each of the trees about him. His consciousness would expand to contain the experience of what it is to be a tree--any or all of the trees. He would feel the experience of being anything he chose within his field of notice: people, insects, (and) blades of grass. He would not lose consciousness of who he was, but would perceive these sensations somewhat in the same way that you now feel heat and cold.

Psychological Time - Psychological Time is a natural pathway that was meant to give an easy route of access from the inner world to the outer, and back again, though you do not use it as such. Psychological Time originally enabled man to live in the inner and outer worlds with relative ease.... As you develop in your use of it, you will be able to rest within its framework while you are consciously awake. It adds duration to your normal time. From its framework you will see that physical time is as dreamlike as you once thought inner time was. You will discover your whole selves, peeping inward and outward simultaneously, and know that all divisions are illusions.

Perception of Past, Present, and Future - If you will remember your imaginary man as he stands upon a street, you will recall that I spoke of his feeling all the unitary essences of each living thing within his range, using the first Inner Sense. Using this third sense, this experience would be expanded. If he so chose, he would also feel the past and future essence of each living thing within his range.

The Conceptual Sense - The fourth Inner Sense involves direct cognition of a concept in much more than intellectual terms. It involves experiencing a concept completely. Concepts have what we will call electrical and chemical composition. The molecules and ions of the consciousness change into the concept, which is then directly experienced. You cannot truly understand or appreciate any living thing unless you can become that thing. You can best achieve some approximation of an idea by using Psychological Time. Sit in a quiet room. When an idea comes to you, do not play with it intellectually, but reach out to it intuitively. Do not be afraid of unfamiliar physical sensations. With practice and to a limited degree, you will find that you can become the idea. You will be inside it, looking out--not looking in. Concepts such as I am referring to reach beyond your ideas of time and space. If you become proficient in the use of the third Inner Sense when cognition is more or less spontaneous, then you can utilize the conceptual sense with more freedom. Any true concept has its origins outside of your camouflage system and continues beyond it. Unless you use the Inner Senses in this manner, you will only receive a glimmering of a concept, regardless of its simplicity.

Cognition of Knowledgeable Essence- Remember that these Inner Senses operate as a whole, working together smoothly, and that to some degree the divisions between them are arbitrary. This fifth sense differs from the fourth [conceptual sense] in that it does not involve cognition of a concept. It is similar to the fourth sense in that it is free from past, present, and future, and involves an intimate becoming, or transformation of self into something else. All entities are in one way or another enclosed within themselves, yet also connected to others. Using this sense, you penetrate through the capsule that encloses the self. This Inner Sense, like all others, is being used constantly by the inner self, but very little of the data received is sifted through to the subconscious or ego. Without the use of this sense, however, no man would come close to understanding another.

Innate Knowledge of Basic Reality - This is an extremely rudimentary sense. It is concerned with the entity's innate working knowledge of the basic vitality of the universe, without which no manipulations of vitality would be possible--as, for example, you could not stand up straight without first having an innate sense of balance. Without this sixth sense and its constant use by the inner self, you could not construct the physical camouflage universe. You can compare this sense with instinct, as you think of it, although it is concerned with the innate knowledge of the entire universe. Particular data about specific areas of reality are given to a living organism to make manipulation within that area possible. The inner self has at its command complete knowledge, but only portions are used by an organism. A spider, spinning its web, is using this sense in almost its purest form. The spider has no intellect or ego, and its activities are pure spontaneous uses of the Inner Senses, unhampered and uncamouflaged to a great extent. But inherent in the spider, as in man, is complete comprehension of the universe as a whole.

Expansion or Contraction of the Tissue Capsule - This sense operates in two ways. It can be an extension or enlargement of the self, a widening of its boundaries and of conscious comprehension. It can also be a pulling together of the self into an ever-smaller capsule that enables the self to enter other systems of reality. The tissue capsule surrounds each consciousness and is actually an energy field boundary, keeping the inner self's energy from seeping away. No consciousness exists in any system without this capsule enclosing it. These capsules have also been called astral bodies. The seventh Inner Sense allows for an expansion or contraction of this tissue capsule.

Disentanglement from Camouflage - Complete disentanglement from camouflage comes rarely within your system, although it is possible to achieve it, particularly in connection with Psychological Time. When Psychological Time is utilized to its fullest extent, then camouflage is lessened to an astounding degree. With disentanglement, the inner self disengages itself from one particular camouflage before it either adopts another set smoothly or dispenses with camouflage entirely. This is accomplished through what you might call a changing of frequencies or vibrations: a transformation of vitality from one particular pattern or aspect to another. In some ways, your dream world gives you closer experience with basic inner reality than does your waking world, where the Inner Senses are so shielded from your awareness.

Diffusion by the Energy Personality - An energy personality who wishes to become a part of your system does so using this sense. The energy personality first diffuses himself into many parts. Since entry into your plane or system, as a member of it, cannot be made in any other manner, it must be made in the simplest terms, and later built up--sperm, of course, being an entry in this respect. The energy of the personality must then be recombined.
 

In Inside Ivy, I used most of my Inner Senses. I definitely used Disentanglement from Camouflage and Diffusion of the Energy Personality, when I dissolved and flowed down into the plant. In adjusting to the smaller relative size of the rootlet, I used the ability to contract my Tissue Capsule. In my direct knowing of the plant, I used a combination of Inner Vibrational Touch, the Cognition of Knowledgeable Essence, and the Perception of Past, Present, and Future. According to Seth, we use the Innate Sense of Basic Reality in all of our experiences. In my Ivy experience, using my Inner Senses was as effortless and natural as using my outer ones.

Help map the contours of the soul!

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Copyright © 1998, Roger A. "Pete" Peterson, All rights reserved
1540 W. 3rd Street, Santa Rosa, CA 95401 (707) 525-9178.