By admin 
HangupsMusic.com – Los Angeles, A palpable hum of anticipation vibrated through a meticulously adorned ballroom in the heart of Los Angeles. Under the soft glow of ambient lighting, astrologer Shima Moore, resplendent in flowing white robes and an intricate red and gold scarf reminiscent of ancient priestesses, delivered a pronouncement that sent murmurs rippling through the expectant crowd. She declared that a celestial alignment of profound rarity – a conjunction of Saturn and Neptune at zero degrees in Aries, the zodiac’s nascent point – had just transpired, marking an astronomical event unseen in at least 6,400 years. As a harpist delicately plucked a melodic underscore, Moore unveiled her interpretation: a "cosmic reset," poised to usher in humanity’s next evolutionary leap, potentially culminating in open contact with extraterrestrial intelligences. "The coming years," she confided later, "are ripe for potential ET contact. I’m attuned to the astrological currents, and I sense it’s truly on the horizon."
Gathered before her, over 300 individuals, a microcosm of the new-age frontier, absorbed her words. Among them were practitioners of aura reading, quantum life coaches, and self-proclaimed "starseeds"—those who believe their lineage traces back to civilizations beyond our Milky Way. Guided by Moore, they raised their arms in unison, offering gratitude to "the guardians of this place." The collective energy was so potent that some attendees visibly trembled, while one man’s breathing grew so sharp, it felt as though he might spontaneously levitate. Nearby, Althea Avanzo, a "galactic channeler" whose fiery red hair cascaded to her waist, leaned in to whisper of an imminent "time loop portal wormhole." Avanzo later recounted a deeply personal narrative, claiming she was "taken up on the ships" as an infant, her genetic information purportedly harvested to create a hybrid offspring.
This extraordinary scene unfolded at the Los Angeles Airport Hilton, host to the 24th annual Conscious Life Expo—a four-day summit dedicated to "the conscious co-creation of a new world." If the ensuing proceedings were any indication, this new world would be one deeply entwined with understanding alien civilizations and meticulously planning the administrative intricacies of "first contact." The timing was strikingly serendipitous: just the day prior, President Donald Trump had publicly pledged to declassify government files related to extraterrestrial life. The expo, the largest gathering of its kind in the U.S., thus became a focal point for exploring the potential scope of these impending disclosures and whether, indeed, ET was finally poised to phone home.
Indeed, a palpable shift has occurred. What was once relegated to the conspiratorial fringes, the discussion of Unidentified Flying Objects (UFOs), has decidedly entered the mainstream. Congressional hearings have seen former government officials openly discussing "non-human intelligence." Figures like physicist Bob Lazar have testified about allegedly reverse-engineering retrieved anti-gravity craft, while even former President Barack Obama made a coy reference to "objects in the skies." In this climate, questioning the sanity of the 9,000 attendees who would pass through the expo over the weekend felt less like an indictment and more like a query: were they deluded, or merely ahead of the curve?
The "disclosure" movement, a decades-old campaign advocating for the release of classified evidence concerning alien contact, traces its modern roots back to 1947 and the infamous Roswell incident, where the U.S. military initially reported recovering a "flying disk." Today, this movement has reached an unprecedented zenith. The bustling expo hall itself felt like a fantastical fusion—imagine an Area 51 hangar re-imagined by the mystical community of Sedona.
This, then, was the face of disclosure in 2026: part fervent spiritual revival, part pop-culture Comic-Con, part impassioned political rally. In the bustling lobby, a woman gently pushed a rabbit in a stroller, introducing her "disabled" companion named Bunny. Beside her, a bearded man, eyes closed in serene focus, shook a maraca and played a didgeridoo directly into the chest of another man in a shimmering purple shirt—a scene that, for all its unconventionality, exuded an undeniable sense of calm.
Within the main hall, mauve curtains demarcated a labyrinth of vendor booths. Here, attendees could avail themselves of $300 group seances, $222 "starseed activations," $110 tarot card readings, or $69 "mantis psychic channeled readings"—the latter offered by a man in a full praying mantis costume who would hold your hands with intense focus for a 20-minute session. (General weekend access to the conference ran $125, with keynotes and panels costing an additional $60-plus, unless one opted for the "Platinum All Access" at $785 or the "Diamond VIP Experience" at $1,111.) For those seeking deeper journeys, a Saturday night ayahuasca ceremony was hosted by a scruffy neoshaman, with other psychedelic plant medicines like San Pedro cacti discreetly available.
"We have been visited for many, many millennia," asserted Keith Seland, a ufologist sporting a formidable chevron mustache, from behind a booth laden with copies of his books, including his 2020 publication, Humaniverse Guide to First Contact with ET. "We must move forward as a species to progress our existence." Meanwhile, an 84-year-old man who had legally adopted the name Jesus Christ glided through the throngs in a white dhoti, offering a simple, unifying message: "We’re all one."
Further down an aisle, Natalie Walter, known professionally as Naya Cosmic, presided over a vibrant booth offering quantum healing upgrades and "light language activations." She claimed the ability to "channel" an alien language, facilitating others in "remembering" their own innate capacity to speak it. "It began with recurring dreams of these blue beings from childhood," she explained, a moonstone glinting on her forehead chain, resting over her mythological third eye. "Then, five years ago in Sedona, they projected a blue light directly through my crown chakra, and suddenly I could perform healing with my hands." As if on cue, a passerby remarked to a friend, eyeing Walter, "She’s Lemurian, I can tell."
From a distance, the renowned New York Times-bestselling author Dick Russell, celebrated for his 2023 biography The Real RFK Jr.: Trials of a Truth Warrior, was spotted. His forthcoming book, They’re Here!: UFOs, UAPs, and US, underscored the prevailing sentiment. "There’s a growing consensus that ‘first contact’ is not far away," he later confirmed via email.
In a different conference room, Adam Apollo, a self-described planetary steward and "sexual healing" expert, captivated an audience with his talk on "Galactic Spiritual Tech." Dressed in exercise mitts and parachute pants, Apollo, whose real names are indeed Adam and Apollo (his surname is kept private for security, a nod to his astrologically inclined hippie parents), recounted a compelling ET encounter at Burning Man in 2005. "Though I was completely sober, when an ET being starts telepathically blasting into your mind, you can’t help but wonder, ‘Was something in my drink?’" he mused. Later, relaxing on the playa, he claimed to have journeyed into the depths of his consciousness, where he encountered "the whole Galactic Council" and exactly 73 ambassadors from various interplanetary species. His tales also included visits to ancient sex temples in Petra, Jordan. "I began to see and remember all these things," he told the crowd, including a dramatic episode where a Pleiadian priestess rescued his crew after his starship became stranded during the "Orion wars." These "far-out" experiences solidified his belief that reality is not merely a "holographic matrix field," he asserted, adopting a Gandalf-esque British accent for emphasis, but one teeming with beings from other star systems. "They’re your family," he concluded.
Next to take the stage was Stephen Bassett, who, in 1996, made history as the first and only registered UFO lobbyist on K Street. Through his advocacy organization, Paradigm Research Group, Bassett tirelessly campaigned to dismantle what he termed the government’s "truth embargo." A former tennis pro and sci-fi enthusiast, Bassett’s conviction in "contact" solidified after reading John Mack’s 1994 bestseller, Abduction: Human Encounters with Aliens. His persistence seemingly paid off in 2021 when the Pentagon acknowledged running a secret UFO program. "A rumor has been spreading worldwide," Bassett declared in a basement conference room adjacent to "The Rabbit Hole" section of the expo, "that Donald Trump has already planned a speech for disclosure and intends to deliver it on July 8." He noted that Stephen Spielberg’s new film, Disclosure Day, featuring crop circles and aliens speaking through Emily Blunt, set for release on June 12, could perfectly preface Trump’s anticipated revelations. "People love aliens, they really do," Bassett affirmed.
Back in the main ballroom, shock-jock panel host Jimmy Church passionately argued that disclosure was "our fundamental right" and that humanity deserved "to know who our brothers and sisters are." The room, filled with a diverse array of attendees—including a woman in fluffy black Uggs, a man with a purple lotus dyed into his hair, and an elderly gentleman tenderly petting his cockapoo—responded with enthusiastic shouts of "Yes!" and applause.
A "Secret Technologies" panel featured an all-star lineup of experts and conspiracy theorists, including social media luminaries Robert Edward Grant (926,000 Instagram followers) and Billy Carson (1.7 million). They posited how suppressed alien technologies could fundamentally reshape our understanding of reality. The claims escalated rapidly. Linda Moulton Howe, a veteran journalist with narrow-rimmed glasses and proprietor of the popular Earthfiles YouTube channel, informed the ballroom that "we Homo sapiens are the product of genetic manipulation by at least three extraterrestrial civilizations, going back at least 14,000 years." She continued, "If we have worldwide animal mutilations, it might have something to do with sustaining the lives of these beings. And essentially we are being harvested." Howe then provocatively inquired how many of these "non-humans" were collaborating with China, prompting another speaker to interject the possibility of them "arming" Russia—an extraterrestrial colonization tactic likened to "the deadliest Mexican standoff."
Yet, amidst these dire warnings, a path to peaceful coexistence was offered. Daniel Sheehan, a dapper lawyer in a cream suit, famous for filing the landmark 1986 federal civil racketeering lawsuit over the Iran-Contra affair before dedicating himself to UFO advocacy, presented a more diplomatic vision. His sparsely attended Saturday afternoon talk detailed the "incremental disclosure of information concerning ET civilizations" since 2017, including "at least five species of highly intelligent ETs." Attendees greeted him with a hero’s welcome. Sheehan asserted that ETs had been in contact with U.S. officials since at least 1964. "We’re going to have to start preparing how to become part of a galactic civilization," he told the small crowd, a wry smile playing on his lips as he brandished a copy of December’s National Defense Authorization Act, which mandates greater Pentagon transparency regarding UFO interceptions. "Disclosure is blowing up, as it should be."
With disclosure seemingly inevitable, the question remained: whose interpretation held the most credence? The weekend’s culminating event on Sunday saw queues forming hours before the 8 p.m. doors. Medium Daryl Anker, known for channeling a multidimensional entity named Bashar for over four decades, had cultivated a fervent, cult-like following. The room swelled with over 400 eager attendees, leaving dozens disappointed and milling outside.
Anker, a figure resembling a cross between the British occultist Aleister Crowley and Kojak star Telly Savalas, eventually ascended the stage wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with "2027: The Year Everything Changes." He settled into a chair, closed his eyes, cleared his throat, and began to twitch. The audience collectively held its breath, many recording him on their phones. Anker then emitted a sound akin to a deep, guttural cough before greeting the audience, eliciting whoops and cheers. "You may find yourself being very surprised at how quickly things will synchronistically begin to appear in your reality," he intoned, his voice a peculiar hybrid of Siri and a desert prophet.
An audience member inquired how best to utilize the already available information about ETs. "Until open contact," Anker, as Bashar, replied, "the idea is to follow what we have shared with you, what we call the formula, to prepare yourself, to raise your frequency, to be synchronistically, exactly where you need to be when you need to be there to receive the information and the guidance that you will need to move forward in life after open contact." He then declared that "hybrid children" were already among us, that the mythological sasquatch was "the natural-evolved species on the planet," and that humans were "quantum jumping all the time." A woman beside me punctuated each revelation with appreciative "ums" and "ahs," revealing it was her sixth live experience of Anker becoming Bashar.
As the talk neared its conclusion, an unexpected event occurred: my brand-new iPhone abruptly powered down as I attempted to post an Instagram story of Anker. There was little time to ponder whether some unseen force in the room had interfered with my device’s battery, as we were promptly ushered into the corridor. Here, hastily erected merch stands offered Bashar T-shirts, posters, and "first contact" crystals.
Few at the expo were awaiting a literal UFO landing on the White House lawn. For them, disclosure transcended mere government files. In a disillusioned nation and a world that often feels more fragmented and contentious than ever, there exists a profound yearning to believe that humanity’s narrative is authored by cosmic forces, and that these authors might finally reveal themselves. In an era where politics often feels surreal and technology borders on magic, such a scenario no longer seems entirely far-fetched. Stepping out into the familiar hum of LAX traffic, a strange comfort settled upon me as I observed the empty sky, save for a distant airplane. Yet, a persistent thought lingered: there might, indeed, be more out there.