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Archive for February, 2014

Which way is UP?

Which way is UP?

What if…

What if life on this planet rose from a space faring race who only come down into the gravity wells of solar systems to feed, breed, and seed the next generation of life?

What if the human form is a part of that process?

What if one could recognize the evolutionary step that would take us back to the stars by the simple test of symmetry?

The evolutionary progression of biological symmetry goes from none (your distant cousins, the sponges) to radial symmetry (jellyfish and anemones) to bilateral symmetry (all vertebrates). Because of gravity, no form of life can be said to be spherically symmetric because, no matter what the environment, things need to know the difference between up and down.

Yet the conscious awareness of our own spherical symmetry is the skill set we are missing if we are to travel between stars or between dimensions.

After all, the only thing keeping human awareness from exploring the pan-dimensional universe is our inability to shed the need for an UP and a Down. For now, we must work the baby steps. Shoot for the rudimentary skill set; the ability to exchange UP with Down with Sideways at a moments notice.

What if the seemingly exponential explosion of neurological disorders like autism and ADD or OCD is not a sign that our genes are faulty but that the First Mother, who turned a corner and walked into this world to seed this gravity well, had a plan and a time schedule that ticks away inside the matrix of life on this planet, an internal clock that is forcing change upon the human species, not on their physical appearance but in the way the mind deals with the illusions and trappings of spacial reality?

What if we are meant to touch the ineffable, make it real, and learn to follow where it leads, out of the world and beyond this dimension?

What if, one day, those who “get it” simply walk out of the world. Would it be magic or miracle?

Or would it simply be growing up and leaving the nest?

 

Walking out of the World

Walking out of the World

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Halo of Thorns

Halo of Thorns

Life finds a way to survive just about anywhere. The land above the Snake River in central Idaho steps up out of the canyon in gradual benches. There is very little rain and when it rains the water percolates quickly through ground that is more pulverized basalt and fossil shards than soil. The summers are brutally hot and the winters are bitter cold so what plants there are, grow small and low to the ground.

There is a little plant that grows in this high desert that is remarkable for two things; its beautiful lacy foliage and the halo of two inch spines that surround said greenery. One can imagine the evolution that brought it to grow in this shape. The spines keep the grazers at bay. Well, mostly. The deer and the rabbits will get a few juicy bits that grow too close to the outer spines but the core plant, the densely packed frills of foliage, is always safe. No matter how much of itself it loses, the plant can renew itself over and over again.

Women are a lot like this plant. In the center of every woman burns an ember of the original fire that created the universe. This ember endows them with the innate and unconscious need to bloom and grow much as the little lacy desert plant grows. The days get long, the snow melts, the earth warms, sending signals to the plant to grow, or in women, the drive quickens to find something or someone to love.

Men, like the deer and the rabbits, think this is an invitation to graze. The leaf is there so it must be eaten, right? In this, men and rabbits are no different. Does the deer love the plant? Does a man say please and thank you every time he sucks the fire from his partner’s soul? He should. If it is freely given, as a woman who wants to nurture the fragile thing called human relationship is wont to do, he should bless the Divine Spark every time she opens herself to him.

When she is spent and needs to retreat, her man should respect that, just as the rabbit knows better than to stick its nose too far into the halo of thorns.

The Earth, your Mother, is not unlike that desert plant. She is Life and Life will always find a way. But our relationship with our Mother has taken a horrible turn for the worse.

There is a sickness among men. It is the sickness of taking. Toxic teachings have induced them to hate their daughters and their wives and their Mother. They take until they destroy. It is as if someone gave the rabbits machetes and taught them how to hack the halo of thorns apart so that they might eat the plant down to its heart. It is holy communion turned into cannibalism.

The women of these toxic cultures have perfected the art of passive aggressive silence. They know that what fuel is poured upon the Divine Spark ordains its harvest. Give the Divine Spark pain and torture and hate and you will create a maelstrom of destruction that will sear the earth black and make barren any hope of creating beauty or joy or Divine Harmony.

These women do not fight. It is not their job to fight. No. They sit quietly, their eyes downcast, their smiles hidden behind the veil of their hands as their men destroy the world, taking secret delight as the world crumbles around them. They are even complicit in this destruction, passing a thousand generations of memories down to their daughters but letting their sons go, to be raised by men who, without the wisdom of women, are no better than children themselves. These women are content, thinking in a twisted form of logic unique to the downtrodden, that since they have ceded all control then none of this is their fault.

Small consolation, but in the end, extinct is still dead and the dead have nothing to feel self righteous about. The dead only feel regret.

The Earth, your Mother, is much like the little desert plant. The rabbits have machetes and have eaten far to close to the sweet core. Things hang in the balance. But do not fear. The little plant cannot seek revenge against its tormentors but your Mother is not so passive. She is not limited by space/time nor does she have qualms about eating her young.

Imagine rabbit’s surprise in the not so distant future, when something made of lacy green leaves covered in lethal spines crawls down rabbit’s burrow and demands retribution.

Thorn Monster

Thorn Monster

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