Earthrise Over Mars

This, Babies. This. PAY ATTENTION!
So I was watching the ending scene of the Last of the Mohicans, where Chingachgook is outlining all the CHANGE that WILL COME,
RIGHT THEN, I am also reading THIS in 'The Cosmic Internet' (by my editor Frank DeMarco) - the words belong to his HS, guides, and friends There:

'Consider the work if you will, to be that of creating and infusing with energy a visualisation, a new archetype, a container. Your society is tearing itself apart because you are in the time of a new birth. AID THAT BIRTH!... Your society may now be considered for the first time in RECORDED history all the subspecies of the planet. You are a global civilisation. Those who cannot create rely upon those who can. It requires much less to adhere to a new vision than to obtain and co-shape it. Your work is to help shape the vision so that your fellows - many of whom will hate your for the work! - may benefit. It is a great and a rare privilege to participate in the coalescence of a new civilisation; rarer to participate in a new form of civilisation; rarest of all -your fate - to also participate in the coming to consciousness of a new way of being human.'

This is why I am here, this is what I have always been about. Not only me. But others. You know who you are. And you know exactly why you have put up with all the dross and ignorance and darkness and stupidity. You know what we are building. Do not forget. Stand fast. Stand fast.

Caveat Emptor

An instructive conversation with Claire, regarding Life, Manifestation, and 'internal' or 'pastlife' influences. It appears that the Life Councils have not only responsibility for approval of a particular role (life) and the review process, but also of 'course corrections' along the way. Additionally, playing by the rules of the game here (in whatever one is doing) apparently cannot be circumvented. I understand that this applies to 'black opps' and 'secret societies' as much as to being a brick-layer or corporate financier. This conversation wasn't a 'feel good' boost (They aren't There solving all our problems for us), but it was interesting. I hope it 'proves' to someone that this isn't all a lot of hooey.

Meeting in Green Room of Theatre, on the squashy sofa. [Meetings here are the 'softer, kinder gentler' version of meetings onstage. All have to do with interactions in the 3D]

C: How can I help you?

K: I need assistance getting an income that will support me. It's all very well to 'belong to timelessness', but I have to pay my bills, keep a roof over my head, and food on the table. Same old problems.

C: have you taken into account what Franz said recently? [about work relating to former writings]

K: Yes. But I'm seeing no signs of it. So I don't trust it. I put in applications every day and nothing comes back. I send to agents and nothing comes back. I need assistance. I need a miracle.

C: Your council granted assistance.

K: Not seeing any sign of that either.

C: So you're feeling discouraged.

K: To put it mildly. As I mentioned to a friend just now, what use is knowing and seeing all this, how it works, when it makes not a blind bit of difference to practical life? Whoopie, I 'inspire people'. I shall inspire them ever so when I am dead because of lack of funds, meds, help. I just don't understand WHY the only things I have ever done to keep myself are also soul killing and debilitating to my adrenal condition.

C: Because you have settled for, allowed those things, when you found they were draining.

K: I have to get a living. No trust fund. None of my books has made me rich. Brother Rabbit has not. Even Williamsburg, much as I loved it, was very part-time. In fine, this life reads better than it lives, and I feel that I don't belong here, that the world doesn't need or want me.

C: belonging, again. Because you cannot thrive.

K: To heck with thrive, I just want to break even. I object to the 'do whatever it takes' philosophy, when no shops around here will hire me because I haven't food experience in decades, no business down the hill because … I don't know why.

C: Understand that I am not criticising you. I am in fact taking notes.

K:?

C: to present to the Council.

K: I see. Well thank you.

C: I recognise better than you do what factors are at play in the game. 

K... I had the cognition the other day that the personality and the 'sub'elements' if you will – other resonances [life-roles] that are affecting this personality – are in conflict in terms of desires. On the one hand, personality wants to immerse itself in the Brother Rabbit model of business (but there is no income from which to do that now) AND wants to leave. The various sub-factors want to 1) write and study anthro [Mary Anne O'Malley]; 2) Study the arcane [Ancel]; 3)stay home and manage things [Molly, Patty]; 4) go home (in both senses) [Ellie]. I can see how and when all these factors were or are at play in my life. Are there more?

C: Everything going on here. I know that your life there seems pointless to you, and has done for many years with the exception of the children. 'The effect of choice and the consequences of choice'. The affection and gratitude with which you are regarded is no small accomplishment, by the way. But as you say, 'that's nice, it doesn't put bread on the table.' WE are aware of this – Franz, George, and myself. Your Council is aware of it (through your and our repeated updates.) WE are working to try to change matters, change their minds regarding interference.

K: The maxim goes ' if you don't like something in your life, the way it's turned out, work to change it.' Well doing so, or going for 'what I wanted and am good at' has only resulted in material hardship, if not ruin, over and over. It is this which has got me down.

C: The part which is left out of that maxim is 'following the rules of the game you are playing'. Your problems have come from trying to skip several steps, unknowing that there were steps.

K: Great. I thought I was following signs correctly.

C: The rules of the game there still adhere.

K: So, what do I do?
C: as I have said, keep doing what you're doing. For our part, we're working on it, with other players there, with the Council. It will take a little while. But there are very promising leads.

K ...Thanks...

Belonging

As I have mentioned earlier in this blog, the death of my sister in the days after we were born left me feeling that I was 'all alone out there', that I didn't belong anywhere or to anyone. Being weird - fey - from the beginning also made me an outsider, other. If I have had a neurosis, or challenge to overcome, it has been of feeling that I belong. I have discovered that a good part of this is purely chemical, for when I take taurine or lithium or just nutritional yeast with all its amino acids, I feel this sense of separation less, or not at all.

Nevertheless, in times of stress or crisis, I go right back to that feeling of 'not belonging', feeling at odds with the present time and culture and that the world doesn't want, let alone appreciate what I have to offer. Now, this is not a 'poor me' story. I am just reporting on the inner landscape. My (also vastly intelligent) cousin cannot believe that a smart person such as myself could ever suffer from this. It just isn't in his worldview at all.

So.

All my life I said 'I am my father's daughter, because I am nothing like my mother' (I do sound like her and have the same sense of humour, but those are minor, in my opinion.) This from having regular communications from both of them, all my life, on an etheric level.

Well, as it happens, I am indeed my father's daughter. I am more like my father's side of the family than I could ever hope to dream. Not merely physically, although that too. We have the same intellect, the same (sarcastic) sense of humour, the same talents, the same values, and orientation to life. Over and over again this is shown to me, these last three years.

And then today, the ultimate: after my ranting about the moral turpitude of one of our local business owners, another cousin of mine said to me that our Nana, my father's mother, would be so proud of me and love me so much, that what I had said reminded so much of her.

I belong. To this tribe. This vast rollicking, hard-working, loving, brawling, never-give-up clan.
I am theirs and they are mine.

Thank you, Dad.

Addendum: In the midst of writing this, I had a phone call from my dear friend Mary Wiseman, who interprets Lady Washington at Mount Vernon, thanking me for an 18th century embroidered pin cushion I sent her for her interpretation. She called it, the very spirit of the 18th Century embodied as it lay in her hand. She re-iterated to me as she has many times that I am 'too gracious, kind, knowledgeable, rarefied' for this world, that I should be teaching 'all this' - arts and graces, as well as the spiritual - to people in some historic place, and lamented that she wasn't in a position to make that happen, as she once was when we were at Colonial Williamsburg together.
But I get it. I belong there too - to the ageless, to the ages, to times past and ways past, ways of being past.

Yes. I do.

Gatekeeper

Yesterday, a friend of ours died. Between the notice of her still being on life support early in the morning and our arrival shortly before noon, so many things went down, not least realising WHY George was unexpectedly back from his learning session early. It is one of his jobs to act as 'ferryman', which he has done for many years of our time. It was only 'since' his life as George Mallory that that expression has been the one to show up, on Everest and elsewhere. He is not the only ferryman of course; he has his regions, while others have theirs.

My purpose was also front and centre as we made our way down our mountain to the hospital. I am the gatekeeper, as in the one who sits in front of the labyrinth. I'm here to make sure people who are transitioning understand that they are doing so, that they will be met (by George, their own guides, family and other beloveds), and that they will be taken care of. I am also there to reassure the bereaved that we go on. That they may talk to their beloved any time they wish. That the communication flows both ways.

I have played this role so many times in this life, by 'accident' and by intent. The message, the thread, if you will (thinking of Theseus here in the great labyrinth of Crete) is of primary importance to the various components that make up this 'I' here. In the simplest terms, it is why I am here, to prod the memories of others, to reassure them of what they know: we go on. You are not alone. You will be taken care of. That sounds pretty basic, elementary. But in these critical times of birth and death (I also welcome the incomings, and remind them that they are still connected to all that is There) my presence alone has helped people. It is my service here. Kindness. Compassion. Support.

It's not about fame, or money, or the gratitude of others. It is about the doing. Like Hester Prynne, 'when came the dawn the helpful inmate was no more to be found, shunning both praise and recompense'... They are reminding me to 'finish the line'. so I shall: 'it might be pride, but it was so like humility that it worked a change of hearts on the people of the town toward her, a softness which she neither wanted, nor, perhaps, deserved.'

At any rate, I am grateful always to bear witness to these powerful, critical times. It is an honour to serve.

Thank you, Michelle. We love you.

Doorways

I was called to the Villa, and in the upper Salon, found George, back from his travels and learning, in his Byronic guise, all curling hair and dashingness. We exchanged great hugs and he proceeded to tell me something of his travels and adventures. He was in fine spirits, the recent contretemps forgotten.

I was then sent a message that Madame wanted to see me in her room, which I anticipated might be important, because I have never been asked to her room here before, so I went out into the upper hall, down the hallway to the left and to the room that connected with the bedchamber adjacent to the salon.


The house is and is not as labyrinthine as it appears. It is, at once, fairly straightforward, a Georgian house with antechambers and all connecting through the rooms themselves. But these rooms often lead 'elsewhere'; that is, into other realms, densities, or dimensions. However you want to word that.


As I say, I had never been in Madame's room here. It is her sanctum sanctorum. It is very different to any other part of the house, but in keeping with her job and personality, very much cohesive.

Painted in dark green, with branchy vines and other 'elements of vegetable wickedness' (to quote Hawthorne). it bears a strong resemblance to the Costume Morgue, which is her workspace. There isn't anything directly sinister about Madame; she is simply the Part of Nature, the chthonic dark earth goddess who goes by many names, whom you don't want to piss off.

Upon the dark carved bed she sat in this dim space, and beckoned me over to sit and have a chat.
The subject matter was the 'doorways' in the place. I already knew of the one that led from the lads' wardrobe ante-chamber to the Teaching area of the Mental plane (and to this room, as fancy suited.)
Madame pointed out to me, when I marveled how like the Costume Morgue it was, that the antechamber door yonder led directly to the area where I had, many aeons ago learned as her apprentice, shepherding the infant spirits in learning [how to be] the elementals of existence. These new spirits might or might not ever exist in the 3D physical worlds  - it isn't necessary - but it was our job to teach them how to navigate the initial levels of beingness - the consciousness of what you might call Nature, which is not quite as inanimate as people seem to think. In earth's popular culture, they are known as devas or faeries. But they aren't in the least cute. They are, variously, the old gods, the 'forces of nature', the trolls, dwarves, or the jackros. They are good-natured if well treated. But you don't want to get on their bad side.

The doorway was also one to the Teaching area in the Mental Plane where Madame and I are working presently, in my position as her apprentice, once again, this time to take over the 'Mother Nature' role eventually. I suspected that she was allowing me into the sanctuary to speed up this process of understanding how places and accesses There are interconnected.

After some advice to me that I need to do more with herbs again [ I am a trained herbalist and tend to work in the old ways, with decoctions and tinctures and poultices], she pointed out to me that in my own room - catercorner across the hall - there is a similar doorway in my own  wardrobe antechamber, and that I should perhaps explore whither it leads.

I took this as a directive, and will do so anon.

"You remind me of a Man..."

Old Hollywood film buffs will recognise the title of this post as a line from The Thin Man books and films. It really was meant as comic relief for the subject of this post.

Out on an errand today, we fell into talking about 'the War' - that is to say, World War Two. And it occurred to me that the young lady 'a part of "me"' was then had almost no experience of non-military life, being first a sort of Girl Guide involved in the war effort, then a secretary to a military official, then the wife of a young officer. How strange to come into civilian life after the war!

At any rate, I was curious enough to look up the man for whom she worked until 1944... and was stunned to realise that he looked exactly like the new CFO of the Archdiocese where I worked for over 8 years. The old CFO had retired, and on the very first day of the new man's tenure (which wasn't even a full day) I went home with the worst migraine of my life. I was always wary of him, until the day I left due to increasingly poor health.

I am not saying that I think that he WAS the same man - I think it unlikely - merely that he looked and acted like him, and I, having an instant aversion I could not explain, manifested this as stress which affected my adrenal condition. I don't blame the CFO, who was hardly the sort to be aware of ordinary undertones let alone the au dela. It was my reaction.

But it does tell me a lot on very subtle levels about the young woman's actual inner life and real feelings, which were mostly opaque even to her.

The world is a very funny place.

Reprogramming

As part of my Work on Self today, I did a reprogramming of a very nice and once-useful cyberbot (nanobot, if you prefer) which has now gone off to a well-earned holiday, and very happy he was to do so.

I queried the mechanics of the forever coming to the edge of disaster, oblivion, financial ruin,  health crisis, suicidal ideation in this life, and being half-rescued (enough to sustain life but not actually thriving, thus making it difficult for me to do what I came here to do.)

The feeling associated with this was of 'playing chicken', when I want smooth sailing, an outwardly calm waters- life (ha, pardon the pun from this Watters daughter), with an inward 'rich and strange' existence.

This bot was set into motion in coming back into the body from my last infant NDE at 4 months [which is the actual origin of my life circumstances always going south in July], being resuscitated (rescued) into a body that was always going to be 'delicate' due to prematurity [lung problems, asthma, bronchitis, pneumonia, chemical sensitivity, adrenal disorder, etc.]The conclusion made, by the infant consciousness was that 'life must always be a series of spectacular ups and downs' (because for the first year, it was.) The bot took it as its job to 'keep [me] alert for danger' and to 'alert the adults that attention was needed to this body and psyche'. This worked well enough as an infant and child. It wasn't the bot's fault that the adults appeared to have forgotten that this body had problems that would never go away and needed medical attention.

I thanked the bot for its long good work, and let it know that I am a capable adult now and no longer required six-alarm fires every several months, no longer needed my health, psyche, or material well-being sent into crisis mode to get the attention of rescuers. I let him know that until further notice I only needed him to remind me to take my adrenal supplements and extra salt (not to miss a day) and meditate. I explained that the crashes are actually creating what he is trying to help me  avoid.

He was very cute. In a C3PO, flustered sort of way, he was appalled and astonished, then overjoyed that he 'could now take a holiday?!' I had to repeat this several times. Yes, you can relax. The poor little dude was practically turning handsprings. So he joyfully agreed to sent me updates (like email, texts or tweets) if I appeared to have missed one or the other of these necessary therapies, otherwise he was free to be on holiday for the rest of his (our) life.

All's well that ends well.
We'll see the effect of this.