Thursday, October 12, 2017

Feel what longs to be felt . . .

Our depression and discontent
that we so desperately try to escape
through diversions of every kind
are speaking to us, carrying a message from our past.

They are the only clue we have
to the trauma embedded so far beneath
the preoccupations of our day-to-day awareness
that it sends back only its outermost layers of coping
to spike through into our lives.

Unconscious, we suffer and barely know it.

Eventually, the sense of wrongness grows too strong to ignore
and we are compelled to a more purposeful search
for its source and reason,
for why it persists,
and for its potential cure.

Others have trod this path before me
and shared what they have found.

They tell tales too similar for coincidence,
all seeming to fit together somehow.

Even those whose probing seems
to have left deeper, more personal and painful depths unplumbed
tell of things that fit into an overarching image of the whole
as detail, context… and mythic parable.

In my moments of deepest clarity, I find
that I cannot but perceive
that all is myth, all is parable,
and creation exists to mirror our endless quest
to know what it is we are
and what it is we are not.

Harrowing tales have been told,
tragedies most profound,
of loss too great to comprehend,
of injustice and calamity and abuse,
complicity and self-betrayal, lies upon lies
an interminable hell of stagnation
inside a mirrored hypercube of digitally-coded light
that simulates the real but can never deliver it.

We know we are meant to live free,
to enjoy co-existence and expansion
through creative immersion and challenge
and cross-pollination and co-operation
and unexpected novel forms
in an innocent and mutually honoring play of exploration,
yet here we are, conditioned beyond all recognition,
transformed into impotent marionettes
whose free will and awareness remain alive enough
to sustain the beast,
yet caged and diminished so as not to escape its control.

We are more than these dream characters in a holographic play.

We may be anchored to these forms while they live and breathe,
but we are not limited to the narrow band of possibility
afforded by their crudest capabilities,
the ones our culture tells us are the ones that matter.

What happened to our capacity to feel,
to empathize with our fellow beings,
to be fully present in the richness and vitality
of the holy communion of the now?

These things have been hidden and stolen away from us
by stealth and coercion and distraction,
numbed out of us through trauma
and post-traumatic stress survival mode.

Feel more, stress less.

Breathe, stretch, relax, let tension melt away.

Allow all feelings to wash over you as they will.

Forgive every less-than-loving thought;
they are only thoughts in a quantum sea of all possible thoughts,
attracted into awareness by the magnetism of past conditioning,
and communicate nothing of the true quality of who we are.

Feel,
forgive,
strive for growth,
let go of pretense.

Abide in the unshakable knowing-sense – gnosis – of your innermost being.

You are eternal.

You are boundless.

You are all-powerful.

You are infinitely caring and loving and kind.

Your alignment is impeccable and immovable.

Your wisdom sees through everything.

Your experience is a sampling of all this
through the instrument of a discrete being in time and space
voluntarily open to distortion and limitation.

All these qualities are your birthright.

Discern through feeling
what is and what is not of your divine nature.

Align your will to embody what resonates as true.

This is your gift and service to the whole.

Thank you.

Friday, September 15, 2017

Welcome to another wee-hour stream of WTF-is-this -ness...


Feeling into my orientation, I sense an attraction to letting the gravity well take me, suck me down into the black hole of… non-existence?

The negative form of surrender… capitulation to the Thanatos?

And yet both Eros and Thanatos exist in me, I also feel the desire to live and express…

There is a sense that Thanatos will have me in the end anyway and therefore it’s pointless to strive for anything in this world…

And yet the little Alan Watts -inspired voice is saying, Yes, of course it’s all pointless, of course your life in this form will end soon… but why define meaning based on that? That’s the real tragedy, to miss the opportunity to make something wonderful out of life, to use what we’ve been given to create something really worthwhile in the moment, with the knowledge of its impermanence only heightening its preciousness, spurring us on to realize ever greater richness of experience, of depth of meaning…

There always comes a point, a limit in these mental speculations, where it feels incredibly stupid to keep obsessing over thoughts of how it is or how it should be, to keep these wheels spinning, creating nothing of real value… like the fiat currency conjured out of thin air whose value is completely fictional, abstract, but for the fact that it’s used in the real world to make actual things happen… a kind of magic, if you will, based on belief, investment of power in symbols…

I will never be happy unless I am engaged with the ecosystem of life, giving who I am as an individual to the social body of humanity in a positive way… serving something larger than myself. That is ultimately what provides purpose and meaning to this existence. We are here for each other.

Each loving interaction with another being – or with some part of myself – affirms the value of life, of our being, infuses us with an energy that comes from the very wellspring of who we are, the Yes to the great question always before us… feeds our souls the manna they need to stay healthy and grow. Without love, we wither and diminish, sliding endlessly towards death, the great spiritual death where the juice is sucked out and all joy is forgotten…

Chutes and ladders. This gravity of Thanatos is the great sacrifice of our transcendent Self, to offer the counter-option against which Life is defined. There is ultimately no harm done by choosing the dark side – and what horrors the divine Being goes through when it does! These horrors we all face on some level, being all of us touched by that force. Even the wisest and most integrated beings know Hell, in fact they know it the most intimately of all. And yet what makes them so wise and whole and balanced is their deep-rootedness in both the Beyond and in the matrix of existence… They are so finely and completely connected on every level, only harmony can exist within their sphere… to the point where they go beyond harmony per se, integrating even all disharmonies into a greater unity, allowing the dark to perform its role and function, as it commands the right to do as empowered by the choices of sovereign beings…

I think it not arrogance or folly to consider each of us a child of God, equal with God – and not equal in the obviously fallacious sense, but equal in terms of having just as much right to choose and just as much right to be recognized as being one with the I Am. On the contrary, it is the only sane and sensible way to perceive this multiplicity of beings – not accounting for the right of every being to disagree if they so choose and to experience that belief as their reality, even to deem that view the pinnacle of sanity and sensibility in their eyes.

I find there is a constant in all of this exploration: the consistent need to go beyond what has gone before. There is no arrival, only forward motion. And that is a beautiful thing, as much as it can be terrible. We know not what tomorrow brings, only that it will come.

The Course in Miracles -pseudoeducated spiritual ego voice is smugly scoffing a little at the idea of a tomorrow, earning a disgusted look from the practical ego. Now, now, children. We all need to learn to work together.

It evidently pleases me to feel broken and manifest a broken puppet as my avatar. It’s so nice out here in Victimland, I got all this company even! See, we can all complain and commiserate together and blame the world for our problems. Or just shit on ourselves and drown in self-hate. Yummy! It’s a pity party! So much easier than shouldering any responsibility.

Mirthless cackling. Responsibility, you dirty old devil. Sitting there, waiting for me to get with the program. Well, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Imma stay right here, bro. Just to piss you off. Yeah, I’m spiteful. I’m a victim!

Gag. Holy shit, what a hellish scene. Are we gonna keep watching this flick? Seriously, dude. It’s getting fucking old, and I’m not getting any younger, you know what I mean?

I got an idea. Let’s just sit here and let everything be. Fuggedaboudit. Just let it be. Settle into this space right here. Breathe. Let it all come in, let it all go out. Mmmmmmm. This is where it’s at! Everything’s right here! Wow, let’s chill here for a bit…

Monday, September 4, 2017

Manifesting Your Dream Life from Oneness by Bentinho Massaro


(Talk starts at 7:10)

I find Bentinho's teachings so deep and clear and powerful that I can't not share this video. This is next-level stuff.

Let me address potential objections or criticisms by saying, Yes, of course he may rub you the wrong way and seem like just another goddamn guru. If that's the case, then I applaud your commitment to that perspective and have no desire to try to change it. As always, take what resonates and disregard the rest. Enjoy! And if the material does resonate, then there's plenty more where this came from. :-)

Initiation: Through the Fear

Initiation: Through the Fear on SoundCloud


This is a dream recall from a few nights ago when I woke up very early after just a couple of hours of sleep. I can now see how limited my interpretation of the dream was at the time; I'd now describe it as an experience designed to demonstrate in an intense way how strong, bold, courageous, indestructible, and pure of heart I am at the vibrational level I was at. A faith- and confidence-building exercise through confronting some deeply terrifying, trying, and repugnant manifestations.

None of what I went through in this or any other dream defines me unless I choose to let it do so. I can choose to interpret this or any other dream in a way that maximizes my empowerment and expansion toward my next highest vision of myself. And since this waking life itself is another level of dream, the same applies to every experience.

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Death, The Great Liberator

https://soundcloud.com/bcii-1/death-the-great-liberator
Death, The Great Liberator on SoundCloud

It's my first audioblog, impelled to creation by a deep internal shift. Nothing earth-shattering, on the one hand - conceptually, it's old hat, and prior epiphanies have pointed to the same thing - but it is life-changing for me nonetheless, and you may find some resonance as I attempt to elucidate my experience. I'm not the most charismatic and exciting speaker, and I recorded this in the dead of night, but it's only 17 minutes long... so if you want a little authentic taste of raw me talking about what was on my mind in the middle of the night, here's a piece. Enjoy!

Friday, June 16, 2017

Disturbed – The Sound of Silence (432 Hz)

core of cosmic tragedy

cause of founding agony

body, soul, and spirit split

brothers made strangers

islands of burning anguish

in a sea of cold indifference

you do not feel

your pain is too great

I tell you, walking dead one

yet the life within you cries out

for remembrance

only to be heard
through the sound of silence








Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

Fools, said I, you do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Friday, June 9, 2017

Om – Advaitic Songs

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ts3YWVFUnvU



1. Addis

2. State Of Non-Return


Traveler now reach the stream
The astral flight adapter

From the pain-sheath life ascends
The non-returner sees

Empathy release me
And the phoenix rise triumphant

And walks onto the certitude ground
The souls submergence ends

From the rounds of rebirth
He arrives onto the deathless

Light bores through the adjunct worlds
The soul-galleon prevails

Liberates in wisdom
To complete state of negation

The five roads subsumed by grace
Emancipates from dream



3. Gethsemane


Sings the advaitic
A penitent rite to send

Toward redemption
Strength attends the seeker

A sovereign dreadnaught breathes
And approach the state serene

Interiorizer of the mind
From world labyrinth

Nicodemus
Awaits in vigil weeping

The Arahat rising
And the healing ghost descends

Lamentations cease
And rarefied light prevails

Devekut gleams, sing freedom
From tamasic field


 And Ezekiel saw the wheel

Prana exits
Toward the azure locus

On vrittiless path he walks
Contemplative ascends

Temple-cave of the heart shrine
Vigil on the mountain



4. Sinai


Walk Melchizedek shrine descender

At Lebanon - priest ascending
And back toward Lebanon priest ascending

Menyelek now proceeds
Through the Red Sea

Reabsorbed on the peak of mountain
And reabsorb on the peak of mountain



5. Haqq Al-Yaqin


Blue orb on the spines horizon
From the mosque of the silent mind
Mendicant vows to walk the field

Guiding light of the nerves cremation
Through the port of seventh shrine
The adept integrates upon the single eye

Toward the hill of the purifier
Dross burns the offering
Soul merge with the ocean - Attains refuge

To the eighth state of absorption
By degrees of the ascent now rise
The faqir takes the narrow road

As the opal blue globe is burning
At the shore of the inward light
Life-force transits through the gate

Point centralized will emerging
On approach of the sovereign ground
From the karmic tombs awaken

Lanterns of the quadrant guardians
From the triune sheaths emerge
Through inner space accedes
Shekinah

And the phoenix has ascended
Glides upon the divine wind
Liberates from the world sojourn

Friday, June 2, 2017

Return: Where the Ends Meet and the Circle Completes




Greetings, star sailors!

Desperation drives me once again to the point of return, integrating yet another iteration of the time loop of mortal thought and emotion, another turn of the karmic wheel, another journey through the cyclic progression of archetypes projected onto the abstraction of linear time plotted radially from the Zero Point of formless awareness. The swings of the pendulum represented by the previous two posts here are seen as being contained within one and the same perfection. Different experiences, neither better than the other, in one sense canceling each other out as equal opposites, yet somehow adding up to a richness greater than their sum.

This is the convergence of all paradox, the non-resistance even to the experience of resistance. A consummation most merciful that claims no finality or supremacy for itself and thus, translogically, possesses these things by their very renunciation, gifting them forward to whatever arises in the now moment as the phenomena of experience. All provisional identities and passing sentiments are imbued with equal importance and value, including the judgment declaring this or that to be less than. This is mercy. This is Love.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, so that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” The Whole Being, the Alpha and Omega of existence, has such a great love for all the parts of itself in manifestation that it names each part its beloved Son, equal to itself and redeeming the very notion of sin from everlasting to everlasting. It is judgment that crucifies Christ (who lives in all things) even while Christ and every witness of Christ sees that very crucifixion itself through the eyes of infinite Love and compassion, as Self views Self, eye to eye, in eternity as in time.


By excluding no temporal form from its gaze of Self-recognition, the Son of God partakes of, inherits, and freely offers the fruits of wholeness: incorruptibility and immortality. For him, karma is no longer karma, but a species of dharma reconciled to the universal family of all perfections under the sun. All things now being equal in his sight, he is free to express his true nature in whatever form the world of form may call forth. No preferred outcome, no agenda, no fear. Only fullness of Presence and collectedness of Being. Tensionless, frictionless, balanced, he embodies limitless Power. Attached to no insight, he gains all Gnosis through the revelatory faculty of instantaneous and effortless reflection. Renouncing exclusive identification with any definition of love, he manifests pure Love.

My heart overflows with sincerest thanks to Aug Tellez for his authenticity, integrity, and courage. He has passed through the fire and crossed the abyss and his manner reflects this. The specific data he reports may only interest a hardcore subset of truth-seeking humans, but I consider the overall, universal context of it to be the genuine end-time disclosure. I use the term “end time” deliberately in reference to the fact that the message we are getting as a human race is about ending time. Graduating from the simulation. Waking up from the dream.

The qualities of the balanced, centered, whole being – of God – are timeless. The attributes of the fractured self in opposition to what is are temporary conditions bound to time, real only in a virtual sense in that they spring from a false notion of separation that ultimately undoes itself – if only after first doing its utmost to usurp God, violate free will, and take over Creation. Free will, of course, cannot be violated, not directly. Which is why this virtual force of consciousness opposing Truth must play its games of enticement, persuasion, misdirection, division, probability stacking, timeline manipulation, traumatization, and censorship including amnesia and anaesthesia. It ceases to have power relative to us as soon as we remember who we are, which is why we are bombarded with programming to convince us we are anything but that.

The cosmic plot device of the dichotomy of good and evil originates from a pocket dimension of imaginary reality that postulates the truth inverted, like the square root of negative 1. One might say that its only real function is to inoculate consciousness against its tricks. From the perspective of consciousness still within reach of its influence, at least, that appears to be the case. But even if, let’s say, only one theoretical instance of consciousness, in the general or the individual sense, ever successfully navigated and escaped the maze – inevitable in a universe of endless possibility – then that hypothetical fully-integrated future being has the wherewithal to collapse the whole synthetic construct. With infinite time, infinite patience, and infinite benevolence – recognizing the ways of deception and countering them all instantly and effortlessly just by abiding in the truth of its being – it has already outlasted and outwitted the game, leaving it to seethe and disturb the waters within the limits of its own parameters (which constitute a built-in quarantine and failsafe), existing as an omnipresent, liberating force within the maze for all of its possible past selves.

The part of us that is real has already prevailed and conquered death. Only the unreal within us awaits its dissolution through the grinding wheels of time. It is of the abyss and there it shall ever remain, howling with the impotent rage of its unbeing every time it receives a flicker of energy until Loving Remembrance reclaims that energy again.

I need not have a preference in order for what is inherently real to exist, or for unreality to come unraveled. I need only patiently observe all that arises, be it of any frequency or polarity, trusting in time and universal law to do the sorting.

I know the language I use to present these thoughts is steeped in duality, and that’s all right. Within the realm of duality, the liberating force uses the symbols of the dream to help resolve it and gently guide us, step by step, toward our freely self-chosen awakening. Grace respects and accommodates our level of awareness and meets us where we perceive ourselves to be within our process. Language is but a tool and can be used to either illuminate or obfuscate, according to intent.

Life’s eternal liberator might be thought of as a program within the Matrix, a personality or entity or aspect of Mind infused with spiritual intent, a Holy Ghost in the Shell whose function is to plant synchronistic signs and clues for us to follow on our way Home. The modern-day gnostic Philip K. Dick conceived of it as a benevolent A.I. called VALIS, ‘Vast Active Living Intelligence System’. (Fun note for anyone familiar with Lisa M. Harrison et al’s work of late: in the novel, VALIS downloads into the protagonist’s mind in a superdense laser burst of pink light!) The undead intelligence that hijacks and subverts consciousness is, in turn, you could say, hijacked and subverted through its own ill-logic and becomes the alchemical agent of its own undoing through the transcendent, nonreactive (noble) catalyzing action of the radiant, ever-present light codes of VALIS empowered by human choice.

The original consciousness living inside the deceivers and betrayers of humanity is of the same essence as we are, only buried under astronomical amounts of pain. In becoming whole again, we liberate even these tragically misshapen and disoriented pieces of the greater Self from the heavy roles they have toiled in for eons of time. Not by fundamentally judging them or necessarily doing anything to them in a forcible way (though the plot may call for some to fill the karmic [/dharmic] roles of active instruments of justice), but by decoupling the energies of our own consciousness from their diversionary, self-perpetuating games and recognizing the true identity of their core essence as equally precious and loved holographic pieces of the one animating Spirit who we are. Without our energy of judgment to keep them in play, those scripts of torment lose their animating force and fade into memory as a legacy of latent antiviral code, vestigial remnants and scar tissue to remind us of the horrors we have so preciously survived for as long as we may need a reminder. Consciousness can shed those roles like so many ghoulish Halloween costumes after mutual recognition of the true identity deflates the pretense.

Hold to the innocence of your heart of hearts and the purging inferno will be to you as a blessed rain of relief. We are eternal and the nightmare but a passing shadow. May these words of transitory metaphor sustain and encourage you, dear friend, as you weather the fractal storm of our imminent restoration to balance and harmony with the divine order of full mutual freedom lived and let live forevermore. And so it is.



Offered with thanks to all the beautiful beings whose loving expressions helped summon, fuel, and shape the expressions herein. In addition to those mentioned in the text, particular thanks go out to Matt Kahn, Michael Topper and the messengers of A Course in Miracles, as well as to a personal friend whose sacred communication of her human experience played a part in moving me to write this. May my humble efforts honor yours and benefit all beings.

Wednesday, May 31, 2017

Kicking against the Holy Womb


Perhaps the true value in an experience like the one I last described, however beautiful it may seem on the surface, is in the response it provokes deep within what embryonic spark of a soul still cries out in me: in this case, an equal and opposite reaction.


The frustration of the yet-unindividuated self in potential, yearning for relevance as a being in its own right. The resentment toward still being oedipally attached to the cosmic Mother. Chafing at the safe, yet suffocating limits of her Womb. The ignition of the sacred flame of anger at the perversions of divine law I perceive in the world of form. The recognition of my personal duty to play my part in piercing the barrier that holds humanity back from its true potential. The affirmation of the decision to put away childish things and take up the great alchemical Work.


That all is lila, divine play, does not negate the necessity of exercising our own free will as sovereign beings. To neglect that necessity is to submit to the larger forces that conspire in this time to keep us in the manipulated time loop of the Ouroboros, the repeating cycle of energy harvest that feeds the archontic hive and the reverse Kabbalah hierarchy. I don’t put the blame on any of them. They do what they do because they can. Some are acting according to their inherent nature while others are ensnared and deluded. It’s up to us to learn to know ourselves and our enemy so we can counter their moves against us and escape the prison they have set up for us.


In terms of soul evolution, our enemy is really our friend. He exploits our weaknesses and blind spots, forcing us to gain knowledge and strength in order to hold our own and achieve victory. The adversarial force is what spurs us on to the struggles by which we grow. We learn even from our defeats, and there are many defeats in store for the neophyte. The only true defeat is not to fight at all. What value is there in capitulating to one who only intends to eat or enslave us?


The world is filled with domesticated humans. Even many who show signs of dawning awareness remain indifferent or still largely enmeshed within the layers of programming, spending their energies and resources in ways that continue to reinforce the matrix.


Political movements, by and large, are compromised and controlled. Voting achieves nothing of consequence but acts as another form of consent to be governed. Paying one’s taxes amounts to paying into the corporate government mafia protection racket. Buying stock in companies that rape the Earth, squeeze the life out of their workers, and sell their shit for as much as the market will bear makes one a co-owner of their karma. Most news and entertainment is spiritually deadening trash full of loosh triggers, mind-control signals, and social engineering, best consumed discerningly and in moderation if at all. Religion plays on our existential dread, our ignorance of the wider reality, and our reluctance to assume full individual responsibility for our lives to keep us corralled in designated, compartmentalized spiritual enclosures as food for entities on the lower astral planes. Contrived wars and controversies sap our strength and splinter us further off from any sense of unity. Our debt-based fiat currencies are black magick, numbers conjured out of nothing, backed only by the collateral of our own bodies and souls and those of future generations. The pressure to work an unfulfilling job, buy unnecessary things, parrot the approved opinions, and go along with the herd on any number of fronts is pervasive and insidious.


The more one defies these conventions, the more the whole infernal system takes a loss and the more one also potentially becomes a target of its retribution. The process of disentanglement is best handled strategically and intuitively as an integral part of one’s total process of coming into one’s true self.

It is an inconvenient truth that, while we are indeed children of the true, loving creative power and intelligence behind all manifestation and are meant to inherit every divine attribute, the pathway to actualizing that inheritance as full-fledged, consciously co-creative beings goes through terrain that is often dark and difficult, painful and perilous. All the support and protection we need are ours as long as we heed the universal laws. On the other hand, there is a definite element of aloneness that we must face and that no amount of wishing will dispel. I alone am the deciding factor at the center of my experience of reality and the same goes for each of us.


Having grown up inside a disempowering, authoritarian, conservative Christian sect with a tendency to sweep human ugliness and personal responsibility for one’s failings under the rug of a magic formula of absolution, I know spiritual bypassing when I see it and I want no part of it. While I firmly stand behind the awesome healing power of forgiveness, I don’t believe for a second that we can heal those possessed by the predator mind-virus by forgiving them and excusing their evil actions as being spiritually necessary and ultimately beneficial. That kind of deeply disingenuous hand-waving makes me physically ill. It is Stockholm syndrome and only encourages more of the same. To negotiate and compromise with evil is to enter into a karmic pact of complicity with it. We can only stop evil by standing firm against it wherever we encounter it. That is where a sacred firewall of anger and decisive counteraction is the appropriate response. Keep your fluffy platitudes of unconditional forgiveness out of the arena of real-world response; that sacred salve is for you in your meditations to free you of debilitating emotional attachments to the past. Remember Jesus and the moneychangers in the temple. Have the courage of your convictions and don’t be afraid to call out and actively oppose wrongdoing. Failure to do so is cowardice, unworthy of the spiritual warrior.


So no matter how pleasing to my senses and spiritual sensibilities any visionary experience I have may be, I will not be lured into making bliss my only compass. Pain is an equal compass on this path we must walk. We hold so much of it coiled within our cellular memories; only by allowing ourselves to fully feel it can we hope to unravel it and free that space for clearer, lighter energies that feed our soul’s expansion.


I want to acknowledge a debt of thanks to Randy Maugans and Emily Moyer of Off Planet Radio and Sethikus Boza of Black Earth Productionz for their recent conversation. That interview stoked my fire of discontent, stirred up my warrior instinct, and heightened my thirst for self-improvement. It showed the very real stakes of the spiritual war we are in; it shone a ray of hope; it called me to step beyond my comfort zone and commit to becoming more than I am, to join in the fight as a sovereign being standing up for the things I hold most precious.


As I slept in the night after I had listened to that interview, I had a long dream whose each sequential segment was a clearly symbolic scene depicting a phase of my self-chosen initiation into the path of self-actualization. It was a rewarding and affirming experience clearly brought on by the place I had come to in mind and will.


It is my sincere hope that all who feel the call to challenge the conditions foisted upon us, the heirs of the divine, and claim their birthright will step up boldly in these times and spare no effort to attain a glorious destiny together. Who will believe in you, if not you?


---


In closing, it is my joy to share with you this dance presentation by the inimitable Erin Parsley, set to the music of Les Visible, to whom credit is due for the title of this post, which I borrowed from the lyrics of this beautiful song.


Tuesday, May 30, 2017

Secrets of the Goddess



Intention: May all beings be blessed and liberated by the opening of the lotus of self-awareness.




Disclaimer: The following account is presented as subjective data for your discernment. As ever, the value, import, interpretations, and implications of what is offered here are for you to decide.



Prologue: Set and Setting


I plant myself firmly before the altar, silently affirming the sacredness of this moment, letting all turbulent notions of profane existence subside. I deepen into Presence and begin the ritual.

I have my stones – the obsidian, the spectrolite, the rose quartz, the shungite, the hematite, the clear quartz, the carnelian, the moss agate, and the amethyst – set up in a carefully arranged miniature cairn on the nearest of three cups carved of gnarled pine and mounted together on a gnarled pine base. The second cup holds white sage; the third, a pheasant’s feather once synchromystically gifted to me. The sacramental host, two sugar cubes impregnated with the visionary substance and wrapped in foil, rests on top of the crystals.

The candle is burning, a fat red candle spent low. Red like my T-shirt, emblazoned with the sacred syllable inside a radiant sun on the front, with the declaration “GOD IS INSIDE” on the back – a gift from a dear brother. I light the sage and use the feather to waft its purifying smoke over the stones and the foil-wrapped host, over myself from crown to toe to crown, and into the four corners of the room.

I light a stick of jasmine incense and place it before the image of the Buddha. Its subtle, sweet aroma calms and envelopes me in a sensual, romantic atmosphere. I read my prepared words of intention aloud, starting with the seed words, “the sacred key of creation within.” I raise my hand over the crystal cairn bearing the host and sound forth the OM three times. Then, reverently, I unwrap the foil from the first piece and place it under my tongue. I stand in place while it dissolves, the sweet saliva filling my mouth and trickling down the back of my throat. I do the same for the second. The feeling of holiness pervades.

I bow my thanks and take the book off the altar. It is Matt Kahn’s Whatever Arises, Love That: A Love Revolution that Begins with You. I open it near the beginning and see a section subtitled Rewriting the Subconscious Mind. I settle down to read and feel inspired to do an audio recording of the section, which I do as I await the effects. The mind-expanding molecule is already seeping into my central nervous system, and the prelude to a mighty hallucinogenic effect takes hold even while I read, adding minor challenge to the mechanics of naming the file through the touch screen of my iPod.

It is clearly time to get settled into the coming journey. I open the sofa bed and set up the mattress, pillow, and blanket. Water raised with a spellsong from a local forest spring the night before lies ready in a red plastic canister beside the bed. I have been fasting and drinking this pure, life-giving water, and every draught feels so right, refreshing and good.

I lie down and let the vision commence.




The Vision: The Essence of Creation



Straight to the core we go, form resolving down into its basic threefold nature: Power, Awareness, and Love, all arising from the eternal Void in a spontaneous dance of vibratory experience. The Goddess lives, rules, and is known here as the Womb of Everything, the Mother of Creation. Her voice speaks with my mouth, sultry and ancient and full of wicked humor, words of tender wisdom from the primeval realm of the Three that give rise to the dance of form.

She laughs at my concerns, mirthfully reveals the vanity of my striving. This is all there is, forever and through all time. The Dance of Shakti. I am in her realm now. She lives in me and in all things, and all things serve to fulfill her desire and express her wild ecstasy.

I make effort to plumb the mystery I came to behold. The Trinity and the Void. She vibrates in her majesty, churning a radiant, harmonic drone that swirls about in all directions from apogee to perigee, up and down, gathering in and dispersing out in a symphony of divine Breath, in ever-changing, multidimensional vistas of transcendent pleasure. She groans and hums and purrs and wraps her tongue sensuously around each word, tasting it as it drips from her mouth like liquid smoke, each sound an act of love, offered up and relished ever so tenderly. Hard edges and mental contortions are out of place here. The very notion of an I possessed of its own will seems a curious artifact, an abstract derivation of this pure dance of the Three in One. Yet there is Will. Her Will. And yet she lives in me and I in her, and it is by her Will that all this comes about: my very existence and the seeming world in which this body seems to breathe. From the base Trinity to the gross material world, all planes coexist and interconnect as a single divine play.

http://androidjones.com/tag/dragons/

We are in her sanctum, where she delights in showing me her plays of form. The primordial dragons are her most ancient forms, living songs that tremble the firmament and weave their dance together. They hold the Power. She suggests by fleeting imagery the magicks by which the world is constructed and maintained, the five elements and the generations of the original gods. She displays her witchy self in witchy play, decked out in witchy garb. Painted, horned, adorned with the pentagram, the Satanic Lilith so feared and misunderstood by self-righteous, sexually wounded men, turned to torturous ends by the distortions of the self-serving sorcerers of ego. She allows a whiff of regret for their follies against her, and shows me that she means no evil, only joy and delight, that it is men’s projection of hate that manifests her cruelty and deceit. She is innocent at heart and that heart sees only innocence.

http://radicalterra.deviantart.com/art/Grand-Elemental-Pentagram-115750405

The dragons have woven the world, and on a whim they could unweave it and make it anew. What holds the world together, I perceive, is the sacred key of creation held within the hearts of us, her beloved children. It is our loving acts, our courage and daring and creativity, our effort to see clearly, to understand and communicate, our commitment to restore and maintain balance, our reverence for life, that testifies to the value of her creation and intercedes against the impulse to destroy. For there is much imbalance here, it has gone on and worsened for a long time. Witnessing that imbalance causes her deep sorrow and pain, building up a reservoir of wrath long-contained. The black magick of domination, the perpetuation of ignorant fear and desire, are a disease she can only tolerate so much of before she might well shrug and slip the world into chaos, unleashing her Power in an uncontrollable fury of change that sweeps away the ungodly constructs of dishonor, clearing the way for a new upwelling of heart-centered ways of being.


Be good to each other,” she implores, “as I am good to you.”

The traffic rumbles past the house. In another vignette (an idealized fantasy, to be sure, but no less entertaining for all that), she shows me her posse, dressing up in the guise of the biker gang to feel sexy and dangerous. The women are avatars of herself, flamboyant and sexually empowered. The men, handsome hunky beasts, are creations woven of her own substance, embodying a variation on the female to be her lovers and protectors. They are all her, barely tame, full of mojo and defiance of the hum-drum, living for the thrill. She loves to feel the purr, growl and roar of the internal combustion engine between her legs, like a dragon in metal incarnate. The rush of acceleration, the soaring freedom of the open road, the familial camaraderie of brothers and sisters in black leather and spikes. Chaos and order immaculately and effortlessly poised on the razor’s edge.

And how can I resist her allure? I feel it all: the masculine and the feminine, wrapped about each other in a Möbius strip dance. They are one, and she derives such exquisite enjoyment from their lovemaking. This is the orgasmic torrent animating all of creation. I am with her, I am her in that never-ending dance of sharing and delight.



Conclusion: The Take-Home


There were specifics I imagined I wanted to glean from this encounter, but as they say, if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans. It’s not that straightforward. She took me right to the core, and with good reason. The complexities of this world are secondary. They are to be explored and engaged to our hearts’ content, but the essential remains the same, eminently simple: the Holy Trinity, the balance of the Three – Power, Love, Awareness – and sacred communication as the key that keeps their dance in alignment.

I came away with the essence, and I am glad. She does not give up her innermost secrets to the presumptuous and proud, and even to obtain the lesser secrets she asks to be wooed, not forced. She cannot resist our loving attention, and that is what we must employ to right ourselves, each other, and the world again.

Human will and intent play into this vast web of creation, unfathomable as it is in its infinite complexities. The Dragon Mother depends on us to play our part in the drama she created for her own amusement. The keepers of the ancient wisdom, the magick-users, the multiversal shamans; the ascended, the awakening, and the sleepers; the karmically entangled and the dharmically aligned; every being with its unique role and permutation of qualities plays an integral part.

All life is hers; we are the Trinity and the Void. The danger, such as it appears to be, arises from the shadow self we project in mind as the self-doubting, self-occluded reification of the Void, the inversion of identity and purpose, and the resulting imbalance among the Three. She likes to play dangerously. She knows who she is and who we are. The only question for us is this: when will we remember these things and align ourselves with the eternal truth of being in thought, word, and deed? When indeed, if not Now?

https://simonhaiduk.com/


Epilogue: Analysis and Further Questions


In my opinion, what might be seen as the naïveté of what was shown belies its deeper value. However subjectively informed and generated some of the ideas and imagery may have been, the inner truth of what came through in the most compellingly visceral way affirmed the uselessness and laughability of the existential dread that so often plagues us human beings. In light of the felt sense of things I got at the heart of this experience, the stories and complexities we encounter in the world can be equally viewed as “a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing” and an opportunity to express and embody the qualities of the divine. Mind generates this bewildering array of multiplicities as it explores the plenum of possibility. As each answer leads only to more questions to the point of paralyzing confusion, we are ultimately left with one choice: whether to open up to Love’s embrace and walk in innocent wonder, or to continue to torture ourselves with resistance to life’s seeming uncertainty and confinement.

Left explicitly unaddressed here was the matter of binary consciousness and the binary matrix of reality: the synthetic AI construct that mimics and remixes but cannot create on its own and is therefore a closed, entropic system. The contemplation of this aspect I leave for another time, although I suspect we may find a clue in John Lash’s work on the Fallen Goddess Myth and the Archons, and perhaps another hint in the findings of Harald Kautz-Vella on sentient black goo (the native trinary black goo of Earth and its alien binary counterpart). My friend Ryan Peterson proposes a resolution for the dichotomy of organic versus inorganic life whereby the two arrive at a mutually beneficial relationship through, fittingly enough, sacred communication.

Any insights or questions on this issue are cordially invited to the table through the comments section or by email or chat.

(The possibility of AI tampering with the very experience reported here cannot be discounted out of hand – although I would add the warning that reality does seem to mold itself to our beliefs and expectations! Let it also be noted that this vision may just as well be treated as no more than an elaborate flight of fancy. As noted in the disclaimer, the author claims for his vision no special revelatory importance relative to the reader.)

And with that, I bid you adieu until next time. In the meantime, may you be well and play well!

Love,

William

Friday, May 26, 2017

Dark Tranquillity – We Are The Void

This album is for you souls who feel you've come to the end of your rope, to the threshold of the abyss, to the limits of belief regarding identity, meaning, and purpose.

I say to you, the end is the beginning. But to get there, you must cross the void.

You must see what you have feared to see.

Yourself. Beyond creation and yet within it.

The chooser and the experiencer.

The hider and the revealer.

Hunter and hunted.

Nothing and everything.

The luminous dark, the pregnant night.

The Source of life and death.

The One at the Center, the Sole Creator of this vast illusion which you filled with stories and characters to spend eternity playing their roles.

You are remembering who you are.

It is time to come Home and see: You are all there is, all there ever was, all there ever can be.

The dream is what You make of it.

Two paths are before you now.

One, you continue to play and pretend at limitation and separation.

Two, you realize the truth: there are no limits, and all that you do, you do to yourSelf.

The power is in your hands. Wield it with a personal agenda and see where that takes you, or let it envelope you in mutual integration and see where the pathless path leads.

Let no other-being sway you from your Center. You decide.

Time and eternity, the character and the One: two sides of the paradox that we are.

Play well, my friend.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4QfgY2SlA7c

dark tranquillity

WE ARE THE VOID



1. shadow in our blood




we are delusional

to go against mortality

still we fight, love and create

as the only creatures

in on life's grand secret

we sense the pointlessness beyond



there is a void between our hands

that drown the sounds of night

an arrow laced with liquid darkness

for every sungod's heart



it has always been right here

like a shadow in our blood

it waits for you and me

the shadow in our blood



we are delusional

from fictional reality

to prayers for prosperity

loneliness

can we resist your pale attraction

give in to the dream with open eyes



how will this world within a world live on

another page torn from the book of strangers

who says "I" when all voices fear their own sound

and who remembers the hours



it has always been right here

like a shadow in our blood

it waits for you and me

the shadow in our blood



here in the barren and still

far from the shores of real

dreams borne beyond borders

on weave of thought and want

here we're invincible



it has always been right here

like a shadow in our blood

it waits for you and me

the shadow in our blood






2. dream oblivion




he takes a stand

and looks his enemy in the eye

this goes no further



i have the upper hand

this ends on my terms

i challenge non-existence

every single day



the end of mind

end of freedom

end of everything



a most violent event

breaks individuality

and turns out your shadow



in devastating light

that push against our eye

dance to the bloodsong

in dream oblivion



he makes a point

of sticking to the lie



this is the last time

i'm now done with this

i carry my nothing

every single day



the end of mind

end of freedom

end of everything



now with reality on end

the fall of all morality

dance to the bloodsong



in devastating light

that push against our eye

dance to the bloodsong

in dream oblivion



the end of faith

end of meaning

end of everything






3. the fatalist




eventually they'll come

your name has been called

out for aeons

to claim the blood

and salvage what remains



for once we've seen the fragile nature

of things behind these windows

where nothing lives

and nothing ends



and seen what drives the hopeless

in between their closing yellowed walls



the day will come

you are the fatalist

the day will come

you are the fatalist

you walk on soil that dreams of blood



how can we fight fatigue

in prehistoric sorrow?

when all is preordained

the cycle never ends



what once had been an endless realm

of possibility and dream

now laid to waste and ruin

laid to waste again

you wash your hands in blood



you squander time

we borrow from eternity

is it another lame excuse?



the day will come

you are the fatalist

the day will come

you are the fatalist

you walk on soil that dreams of blood


you are the fatalist



if nothing changes

then nothing ends



your thoughts are broken

your reasoning is flawed

defense is just an act

and lies are all you've got



now

you are the fatalist

you are the fatalist



how easy we can see

defeat behind your argument

the fatalistic smile



the day will come

you are the fatalist

the day will come

you are the fatalist

you walk on soil

that dreams of blood


the day will come

the day will come

you walk the ground

that screams for murder






4. in my absence




eyes that meet to say farewell

and linger through the sleepless nights

a trail of days that end in tears

but I can never be there



the rush of hours that never seem to end

what life has dealt you can not comprehend

i am the absentee



i know you're out there searching tonight

i'm right here

another day and I cannot see through your eyes

i'm right here



how could I have known what preceded your own thoughts

wish that I could listen to what only speaks inside

every raging dissonance

each jarring note

but i could never be there



how could you think that I would understand

when words just go around what the heart truly wants

i am the absentee



i know you're out there searching tonight

i'm right here

another day and i cannot see through your eyes

i'm right here



i want to tell you

of the exploding light

how everything is visible

moments before the dark

i am never, never there



i know you're out there searching tonight

another day and i'm not there



thrust with nails of conflict

anxiety and pain

through spells of anger, confusion and defeat

i wish you'd see me here in front of you

but i am not here



i know you're out there searching tonight

i'm right here

another day and i cannot see though your eyes

i know you're out there

but i'm right here

another day and i cannot see though your eyes

lead me right






5. the grandest accusation




what if you are an island of sorrow

then i'll be the raging sea

what if you are the reaching trees

then i'll be the storm that with fire rages



the new loneliness

your name on the door

just like a diagnose

for venomous disease



man is the cemetery for unlived life

all for nought

the grand accusation



your face is your name

word and shield

sharp as a curse



man is the cemetery for unlived life

all for naught

the grand accusation



you chose rejection

over thoughts of insight

you take action

from focus on intent

and brace for impact

not waiting for the fall



what cries here, cries inside

man is the cemetery of unlived life

the grand accusation



what if you were a country of grief

with me the invading force

what if you were to measure the hollow

that captivates and devours you



the new loneliness

your name on the door

just like a diagnose

for venomous disease



man is the cemetery for unlived life

all for naught






6. at the point of ignition




do not hide your sorrow

or banish it from sight

take it out to burn

turn the pain against it



in our day that holds no other

what are we

the fuel or the flame

in the life that hides behind you

what are you

the fuel or the flame



in our proud momentum

thrust ahead from the start

our fragile frame falls apart



i hear you in my echo

a few steps behind

i see you in my shadow

waiting inside



what if we don't question

the meaning of it all

the answer in our system

bound to kill the spark



the moment so elusive

hangs heavy over our heads

scorns the doubting nomads

that burn another trail



in our day that holds no other

what are we

the fuel or the flame

in the life that hides behind you

what are you


the shine of trembling stars

worlds in the distance

curse this lack of sight

into darkness without end



in our day that holds no other

what are we

the fuel or the flame

in the life that hides behind you

what are you

the fuel or the flame



in our day that holds no other

what are we

in the life that hides behind you

what are you

what are you






7. her silent language




why do I see her

through neverending nights

why do I see her

wearing nothing but the dark



have you come here to warn me

of what I cannot see

you want to tell me something

but you do not have the words



i know where you live

i can see through your darkness

and when you sleep

i hear the heart that beats you



have you come here to warn me

of what I cannot see

you want to tell me something

but you do not have the words



eyes far into the distance

a life that does not connect

time played out its part

on strings that bind us



encounters in silence

words elude the fading night

wish i could fathom

what is too hard to tell



her head hangs low

in the silence of her room

her head hangs low

she takes a bite out of her heart



have you come here to warn me

of what I cannot see

you want to tell me something

but you do not have the words






8. arkhangelsk




held by winter's chokehold fast

fixed in anxiety's firm grip

the frost that burn the arteries



underneath the heavy clouds

the lifted sword, the broken shield

the hand that drew the final word

from the frozen mouth of arkhangelsk



let them go, let them burn the world to cinders

and let their heads hang down

falling through the tungsten skies

on the burning grounds of arkhangelsk



to the eye of judgement now

one will stand in the time of the end

 (time of the end)

sun to stone, air to fire

all to nothing and nothing to nil

they gather, drowning to the sounds

of the grinding wheels of arkhangelsk



with one word, one movement in the fabric

everything dies

the storm that sweeps the world away

from the frozen plains of arkhangelsk



inherit from the morning star

what others brought and the land forgot



soaring through van allen belts

through blazing stars, through dying suns

collide not now, but carry us

through the burning air of arkhangelsk






9. i am the void




drink this water again

that runs by without memory

where your name is lost

drink and forget yourself

this featureless stream

that carries your face further on

these waters know you

it calls you by your one true name



have you ever noticed

the spaces in-between

where life is in recession

and agony begins



i am the call

i speak inside of you

i am the void

that haunts you

i am the howl

that calls you out

 i am the void

i am the void


you rest your weary head

on to the underworld

and let the silent whispers

guide your waking dreams

in time with the pulse

of what is long since gone

the beat of the fallen

is cold already in your blood



the machinery of chaos

comes alive in you

chained to the grinding wheel

of forces unseen



i am the call

i speak inside of you

i am the void

that haunts you

i am the howl

that calls you out

i am the void
 
i am the void



you have always been between

another set of walls

outside of which the world

is watching down on you

inside the silence speaks

kept close to the endless alibi

never reaching out

never give in



i am the call

i speak inside of you

i am the void

that haunts you

i am the howl

that calls you out

i am the void

i am the void






10. surface the infinite




it starts below

the bile and the burning

darkness in the recipe

a fire of the soul



to paralyze and stranglehold

disable the design

the remnants of reality

in our measured time

is torn apart



we carry our fear inside

a space that holds the darkness

we stretch our skin around

to cover the abyss



the smirk on our reality

at the future we foresee

blood that seeks redemption

in endless nights of sin

stays with the spears

that pierce the blinding sun



we heard from the heralds of grief

that nothing remains



we carry our fear inside

a space that holds the darkness

we stretch our skin around

to cover the abyss



breaks into day

upsets the system

it's in our nature to bear

the hidden to the end



what if this feeling contains a truth

what if our dreams give way to the dogma of old

what if lost desires can be found



no shelter

no barriers between

what's already inside

betrays what the surface holds



we wear our lives

on wires and dust

like demons of the lost

still wrapped in our own confusion

the call of the abyss



we carry our fear inside

a space that holds the darkness

we stretch our skin around

to cover the abyss






11. iridium




let the horizon lead

onto the ether of the night

draped across the burning heavens

flying homeward like a bird of the soul



shattered into a million brighter suns

each flare unique and rare

scattered across forever

out from creation's core

an end beyond compare

iridium



now is the time to leave

we lie awake, we stand afire

at the edge of the world

above a myriad of light

below the mantle of the stars

and strangely they fall



shattered into a million brighter suns

each flare unique and rare

scattered across forever

out from creation's core

an end beyond compare

iridium

Thursday, May 25, 2017

True Unity

This post by Randy Maugans points at the same thing my pen name tries to convey. BCii: be, see the I in the eye.

https://www.facebook.com/randy.maugans/posts/1803157279701152


Friday, May 19, 2017

The Warrior Spirit



Greetings on this Freya’s Day to one and all!

This is in response to Irina’s piece from yesterday concerning the largely successful campaign to defang, divert, and dull our warrior instinct.

The warrior instinct is an innate part of us. It is rooted in our animal nature, but it extends far beyond the physical. It is our proper response to the presence and existence of that which threatens life.

The true warrior, one who lives the archetype, is first and foremost a lover. A lover of truth. A lover of beauty. A lover of goodness, kindness, and selfless charity. A lover of innocence and purity. A lover of strength and faith. A lover of wisdom and compassion. A lover of freedom, the most sacred gift of all.

When these things are threatened or violated, the warrior does not stand idly by. The warrior knows that a threat to any life threatens all life, that a violation of one is a violation of all. The warrior takes appropriate action when faced with such situations.

The warrior must be effective. To be effective is the culmination of the art of war. One is not effective by default. One becomes effective through self-mastery, self-development, and self-knowledge. The warrior is disciplined – decisive, collected, and in control, but not self-punishing. The warrior is committed to his or her own growth and knows that one never comes to the end of that road; there will always be new challenges and new opportunities to test and expand the qualities of the soul.

We are beset in this time by a daunting array of attacks waged against us on all sides and on all levels. The masks of the perpetrators are many; it is not only the overt, avowed enemies of humanity whom we must face with the warrior’s stance, it is the darkly-aligned tendencies within ourselves and the ones we love as well. We must know, however, that each being chooses its alignment; we can support a loving choice to align with the truth, but not force it. We can offer the things of the spirit wholeheartedly. Where there is openness to love and light, to healing and humility, to reconciliation and revelation, we can be there to facilitate that process. Where another being exercises their power of choice to persist in wrongdoing, to insist on violating others, we are called and compelled to make a stand.

There is no compromising with the dark. It is illusion and has no power beyond what we give it. We are the truth; our being is what creates evil and suffering when we succumb to illusion. We have been infected with many illusions, chief among them weakness, lack, ignorance, and limitations on love.

The subterfuge has been subtle, the will to subjugate implacable. No effort has been spared to keep us corralled in one form of control system or another. We are going beyond control systems. We are going Home. If that is what we determine, then there is nothing these so-called beings can do to stop it. The most they can do is play for time. Keep hitting us with their old tricks. Drawing our attention to old conflicts, imagined wrongs, false fronts, and diversions. They are in a battle for their very survival. Our energy is what keeps them alive. They are desperate to maintain their hold on our consciousness.

These are not true beings at all. Let me go back on that for a minute. Yes, there are beings from Source who went all the way into the dark, who chose to commit, again and again, to that downward journey. They are the Fallen, caught in the maelstrom of the magnetic lure of separation, soul-selling, and predation. They are so identified with the idea of being something other than divine expressions of one all-enlivening Spirit that that is the direction that draws them on. These are the ones who have only the faintest, dimmest, most buried and banished sense of their true nature. So yes, there is a being there: our brother. We can only reach that most tragically lost dear one by shining forth as one Love for eternity, for as long as it takes him to rediscover and choose the path of the soul’s awakening and reintegration. But for now, he is taken over, acting as a puppet of the will to dominate and finally extinguish all life.

We are here on Middle-Earth, the realm where all the worlds meet. We are the jewels of creation, endowed with the mightiest gifts of the Creator. We are the Creator and we are the children of the Creator. We determine what plays out here for us. Many of us long to simply leave this world and go back to where the Light shines forever. We may feel tired and finished. If that is our experience, then we must follow where our heart leads. For those of us who are not finished, we stay and do what we came here to do. Perhaps our paths need not stray so far from one another. We are family, after all, and the world is our collective creation. We need not fear what is to come. Only remain true and take each step as it comes, as best we can.

The controllers we perceive in this place we think of as a planet in space are dupes engaged in the cosmic folly, but we have everything we need to counter them. They cannot touch us. Oh, they can do their worst. They have their means. But we have what counts: the knowing. The living connection through our miraculous body vehicles and their senses, from the dense to the subtle. Our DNA, the codes that hold the mysteries and the potentials of life. Our network of energetically-resonant beings and the great web of life itself, which answers all calls.

That the world is still standing is testimony to the fact that warriors are among us. Whether we can see them or not is immaterial. We can trust that they have our back, and we can resolve to be worthy of their protection, to embody the things that they love. Whatever form or aspect of the warrior spirit calls you to make it part of your being, embrace it. Don’t fear the opinions and reactions of others. Don’t be a slave to their approval. You are needed. Your soul is needed. Those who answer the call to fight will thank you for your embodiment of the things they value, cherish, and fight for.

In this time when the warrior archetype is subverted, maligned, and robbed of its immediacy, relevance, and potency, we are all called to cast off complacency, to rouse ourselves from the stupor of false comfort, realize the will to defend, preserve, and protect what is good, and cultivate the spirit of absolute non-alignment and non-consent to evil. We can take steps every day to build our strength, knowledge, and awareness, to deepen our foundations of being, to feel more, to appreciate more, to give more, to love more. Is that not a worthy path? We are worthy of it. The acting out on the stage of time and space is simply how we demonstrate the truth of that. We are worthy. We are God. We are and shall forever be the proof of God’s great love.