Posts Tagged ‘wishes’

There is something profoundly human about the practice of hanging up Christmas stockings.

There it sits, dangling from our mantle, empty and waiting, yearning to be filled. Poor stocking. It carries the weight of all our expectations, not only for the Christmas holiday but for the entire year, and yes, perhaps, even for our entire life. There, on display for all to see, is the hopes, fears, hunger and wishes of the human soul.

The emptiness inside the stocking is the bottomless place inside ourselves. It is a thing we keep well hidden, this dark and infinite hole. Here is the secret that we dare not reveal to another living soul, lest we reveal our vulnerability, risking being gutted like the puppy showing its soft underbelly to the alpha male wolf. We tell no one.

Listen. This is the secret. We want to believe in the ineffable and infinite consciousness that resides in all things. We want to believe we are part of the Universal Whole. We want to believe that Oneness, not love, will conquer all. We want to believe in magic.

As adults we forget the gentler time, when we were young and the memory of our lives beyond the veil was still fresh. We were convinced that we were magical creatures in tune with the magic of the Oneverse. We loved everything and expected nothing in return, trusting implicitly in the abundance of the Oneverse, assuming that everyone around us operated on the same wavelength. Experience has taught us otherwise. Our hearts have been broken a thousand times by the time we reach adulthood. Magic was forgotten as the ways of the world split us off from our Source.

The Santa myth triggers the old memories and dredges up the secret yearnings. There in the darkest part of the year, we remember that we once believed that there is a jolly old fat elf that fills up that empty sock, thereby filling up our souls by acknowledging our existence, thus reconnecting us once more to the Wholeness, to the Oneness.

What we want is for Santa to be real. We need there to be an all seeing, all knowing being. We need to believe that goodness is rewarded and evil is abhorred. We need someone to see us for who we truly are and love us unconditionally, despite all our faults, perhaps, but in truth, we want to be loved for our supposed blemishes as well as our imaginary perfections. If Santa were real, then there can be things like morality and honor and justice and, the holy grail of holy grails, boundless and unconditional love. If Santa were real, then wishes really would come true.

We can sometimes find a pale substitute for this connection in the eyes of the ones who love us. (A tall order, humans being what they are, imperfect and ego centric.) We have pared down our needs. Simplified them to conform with the current reality. As adults, we  settle for a moment of togetherness, the illusion of connectedness, or simple companionship in the form of the grip of a friendly hand in the darkness.

The thing we dread most is disappointment.

Gifts given during this time of dark light are meant to be reaffirmations and re-connections. But quantity has replace quality. Holiday gift giving has morphed into a perverted parody of true giving. We cannot love, so we give useless gifts as a place holder for our true feelings. The presents under the tree become a sort of horrific test that few can pass. If you loved me, you would know me. If you knew me, you would give me what I wanted, or better yet, what I needed. Lately, less and less effort is put into the process. “It is the thought that counts” is the battle cry of the callow and the emotionally stunted. Gift giving turns into a surreal sort of cruel torture. The gifts are of little or no value to the giver or the receiver. Stores fill their shelves with useless things that no one in their right mind would buy at any other time of the year. (Do you wonder, then, why there are so many emotional breakdowns during this crazy season? Relationships are destroyed, families torn apart, hearts broken, as the true nature of people’s hearts are revealed in all their awful self centered glory underneath all that glittery wrapping paper.)

But what would one expect? The true believers are outnumbered by the pretenders. There is a way to remedy this. Close your eyes and believe with all your being, that the Santa myth,with its feet buried deep in the human condition, is a thing we need as surely as we need the air we breath and the water we drink. Imagine, as you hang your stocking, that the magic is real.


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“The first words that are read by seekers of enlightenment in the secret, gong-banging, yeti-haunted valleys near the hub of the world, are when they look into The Life of Wen the Eternally Surprised. The first question they ask is: ‘Why was he eternally surprised?’ And they are told: ‘Wen considered the nature of time and understood that the universe is, instant by instant, recreated anew. Therefore, he understood, there is in truth no past, only a memory of the past. Blink your eyes, and the world you see next did not exist when you closed them. Therefore, he said, the only appropriate state of the mind is surprise. The only appropriate state of the heart is joy. The sky you see now, you have never seen before. The perfect moment is now. Be glad of it.’ The first words read by the young Lu-Tze when he sought perplexity in the dark, teeming, rain-soaked city of Ankh-Morpork were: ‘Rooms For Rent, Very Reasonable’. And he was glad of it. ” Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

Terry Pratchett, by accident or design, has encapsulated, in a few very humorous sentences, how the human brain perceives time. Human’s are funny creatures. Their very complex brains lead them to do all sorts of irrational things. Our history is replete with examples, hence Terry’s other statement:

“Some humans would do anything to see if it was possible to do it. If you put a large switch in some cave somewhere, with a sign on it saying ‘End-of-the-World Switch. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH’, the paint wouldn’t even have time to dry.” Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

If one were a warrior empath busy doing irrational things and one wanted to practice quantum witchcraft which is equivalent of pushing every button marked “danger”, one would, of course, start with the bubble of time called “now”. In this instant, the past does not exist and the future, not yet created, awaits its birth.

One can influence the “now” but it is almost impossible to radically alter its course, due to the presence of other witches, wizards , warlocks and other random dealers in magic whose agendas pull the “now” in a thousand different directions, effectively canceling each other out. Add this to the already hardwired, DNA encoded  ability of every living thing to be a nascent magical source, thereby giving all wishes the weight of a puff of wind, which by itself, could not even shift a small feather, but in harmony with the entirety of the living biomass of the planet, seems to keep the whole mess on course, set deep in the main stream of the river of life.

Then there is the human brain’s skill at ignoring what it chooses not to see and clinging to its own version of reality, no matter how insane that might be.

“Women weren’t allowed in the club at all except under Rule Thirty-four B, which grudgingly allowed for female members of the family or respectable married ladies over thirty to be entertained to tea  in the Green Drawing Room between 3:15 and 4:30 P.M., provided at least one member of staff was present at all times. This had been the case for so long that many members now interpreted it as being the only seventy-five minutes in the day when women were actually allowed to exist and, therefore, any women seen in the club at any other time were a figment of their imaginations.” Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

It is a measurable fact that people’s brains filter out a vast majority of the information available, choosing to store into memory what amounts to a Cliff Notes version of any instant of the “now”. (This is all well and good for day to day survival, but if it becomes urgently necessary to alter one’s course and wrench oneself out of the rut one has become stuck in, one must first start seeing more than the highly dumbed down version of reality you’ve told your brain to deliver to your conscious mind.) A practitioner of quantum witchcraft can use this blind spot to their advantage, working undisturbed and anonymously under the very noses of the unconscious masses, knowing with absolute confidence that the ripples of one’s magic will be ignore by people’s conscious minds and be immediately forgotten.

Having been frustrated in one’s attempts at manipulating the present, a quantum witch turns her attention to the past and the future. (Ok. Quick refresher course on the nature of time. “Now” is a bubble. Between “now” and the beginning of time is an uninterrupted string of bubbles representing every moment that has led up to this “now”. Likewise, between “now” and the end of time. This is important: the brain perceives both the past and the future bubbles as memories and treats them identically. Since the future is in a constant state of flux, these memories form and dissolve quickly. The brain has been trained from a very young age to ignore these memories.) One simply expands the breadth and depth of ones bubble of “now” to include past and future. Voila. Problem solved. The present will catch up to the future and all the magic will explode in the moment, but you were there first and it is your matrix of magic that becomes the foundation upon which all others might build. But more importantly, you have gone back in time, laid down a matrix of power and altered the perception of the past, thereby editing the species Cliff Notes. Think of it as retroactively healing the blindness of the collective consciousness.

There ya go. I’ve just explained time travel without once mentioning math or physics or quantum mechanics or pan-dimensional cross shifting. Also embedded in this explanation is the solution to how you fit the human body through the eye of the proverbial needle in order to explore the multi-dimensional universe. Happy?

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I find it infinity curious that humans have spent the last ten thousand years building a society where all risk has been erased (truly, the riskiest behavior for the average urban cave dweller is choosing to eat french fries instead of salad at lunch) and Death must come hunting for us in the ICU’s while doctors fight him off with electrodes and syringes, and yet, our play time becomes more and more focused on the playacting of Death. Inventing a Death simulacrum has become high art.  The most successful video games are the ones with the most graphic violence and the highest body count.  There is a whole genre of movies whose only intent is the spilling of gallons of that red goo they use for cinematic blood. The Japanese are masters at vivisecting human shaped props on camera (but then, they live in a society so soul-crushingly rigid, they can perhaps be forgiven their excesses).

So what, you might say. It is not real. No one gets hurt. No one dies. It is good, clean, bloody fun.

Ah, but you are wrong. It is very real. What you see becomes real. The brain is a simple tool. It cannot distinguish between illusion and reality. What you see is added to the vast library of information you use to wend your way through your life. You learn from all experience, real or imagined. What you create on paper or on the screen is just as real as the buildings built by engineers and architects. The more people see what you have created, the more they add their own energy into the warp and weft of your weaving. Do you not wonder at images that make the leap from ordinary to iconic, from the mundane to being integrated into the public consciousness? People do that. The massive pool of the human subconscious mind does that. For the human hive mind, the dividing line between real and imagined is fuzzy, at best.

In the quantum mechanics of the Oneverse, in the physics of wishes, the energy, the particles and vector streams that comprise the fabric of the world move to your wishes and build the things you dream. What you believe comes true. What you imagine is given substance. Your will breathes the spark of life into whatever golem you create and send out into the Oneverse.

If you can believe this then understand my warning: Every death on screen, every tortured scream on paper is a prayer that finds its way to Death’s ears. If you can respect nothing else, respect his power. Ask permission. Say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. It is his playground and all the balls are his. Whatever else, be prepared to accept the consequences.

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