Category Archives: Detachment

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #99

To facilitate and complete reinstatement of my basic programming I needed to create a string of pertinent data as to my location – a necessary reference point.  They informed me this place is called Hyrete, kingdom of Elbre on a world they call T’Sing Tarleyn – I like your name for it better: Malefactus.  From what I deduce from your mind, that suits it well.  That’s it.”  
End blog post #98
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Start blog post #99

Cedric may be an automated AI but nevertheless it does feel good to be inside him.  I mean ‘him’ not it.  There is a ‘humanity’ here that I can trust.  I realize his earlier banter was to put my mind at ease; to make me temporarily forget my discomfort and fears.  The perfect psychologist and counsellor.

And he’s the perfect surgeon.  I already know I’ll come out of here in a body that will be almost as good as it was before this last fight.  And that’s as good as it gets, considering what’s been done to it and my age.  I’m now way past my due date for permanent retirement from office.

Speaking of office, I awaken in Bal’s office again.  He isn’t there but YBA4 is checking me over with that typical Cydroid beatific look.  The more contact I have with them the more I respect them.  There is a completion about their make-up, their unity of mind and body I have not encountered in other beings.  It’s not that they do not have emotions, they  must carry them to understand the humans they interact with constantly.  They do not use them for themselves; they do not need them.  They possess something far superior and due to their biofacturing process they do not need to experience the emotional state to arrive where they are.  Yes, I do admire them.  I admire their certainty and their individual strength.  Certainly I would never feel threatened by a distant future that contained only Cydroids instead of humans, or where humans have become as Cydroids, able always to choose to do the right thing and knowing when it is the right thing to do.

How does one automatically know what the right thing is?  This question implies we are all action beings, that every moment we volitionally impinge upon our environment by our thoughts and subsequent choices making it a better or worse place in which to exist.  The right thing assumes it makes the environment a better place.  As action beings, we conclude that the ‘right’ act is that which causes no harm to another, however that affects the self.  That’s our basic foundation.  Next comes the act that benefits the other even while it appears to impoverish the self.  For human ISSA beings this is high level Avatari awareness.  The lesser level, such as I in my incarnation as Antierra, relies on a more primitive concept: compromised morality or teleological reasoning.  If I hadn’t given myself that mind-cushion, Malefactus would have killed me on my first day!

Having interacted with pseudo-humans whose basic awareness is that of the “I want” mentality which leads to the “give me” constant entitlement mindset; with Cholradils or natural empaths who have no personal choice in sacrificing themselves for any and all others; with Cydroids who have that choice but know what is the right thing to do and choose to always do it (could there be others who would choose otherwise? Possible, I haven’t met any); with high-functioning humans of avatar mind who work from compassion through an arduous process of self-discipline, self-denial and self-sacrifice, I find the Cydroid to be the superior path.  What are its dangers, then?

Cydroids are vulnerable to destruction through the scattering of their ‘family’ ties.  At full death, that is if they cannot be re-cloned and re-grown from their own genes or that of their family group all that they were is lost.  They have not, as yet, needed to find a way to reincarnate as none of them have yet truly terminated.  There is no guarantee, except in the laws of worlds such as Koron where strict control is maintained on the cloning process, that evil minded Cydroids cannot be grown for nefarious purposes.  I admit that possibility. 

However, looking at the other alternative to higher mental and moral achievement for sentient life, the Avatari, that also poses serious problems.  Avatari carry ancient baggage and have worked their way through the sinuous process of enlightenment for aeons.  That process has allowed them to experience evil, to work with it and enjoy its fruit over extensive periods of time.  Those memories may be purged of their emotional ties now but they cannot be expunged.  They remain dormant and I know of some who have reawakened their old memories, returning into the darkness, becoming powerful evil entities and reincarnating on worlds where they could manipulate inherent weaknesses to their own ends.  Warmo was such a one.  So destroyed was his mind from sucking upon the dregs of his evil that he was incapable of remembering the times in-between when he and I had worked together in close and warm association.  I would not be mentioning this even now were it not this revelation is an integral part of the Teaching.

Long before we enter the definitive path of the Avatari, each potential ISSA carries the seed of evil as well as the seed of life.  Which one we nurture moment by moment remains a choice.  Often a very difficult one, for example for me at this time, in this place where I must proceed on the razor-edge concept of ‘doing right by wrong,’ on the assumption the ends will justify the means.  This you must always remember when you come to the place where you decide to become an avatar – such being denied to no one except by personal choice – and that is, in the blackest of moments when you are certain you no longer have any choice as to your next step, there remains a choice. 

I be not speaking here to those who have already decided it is the better part of valour to abandon all their potential choices into the hands of a trusted or worshipped deity, or into the hands of one they believe is already an avatar and empowered to take care of their future.  The Teaching is of no value where choices are abandoned beforehand for it is totally dependent on awareness of freedom of choice beyond all inducements i.e., self awareness, self empowerment and self determination.

I cannot speak for deities for I have yet to experience that particular state of beingness which to my view is a highly questionable quest but I can speak for us avatars.  Recognize us thus:  we never ask anyone to follow us, whether into hell or bliss; we never make ‘disciples’ and would castigate sycophantic followers.  We never promise life to anyone based on obedience to our simple Teaching.  True Avatari teach detachment and self-empowerment in all things.  We do not create dependents just as we are not dependent.  Our home is the cosmos and together we seek to shape it to the betterment of all life as it reveals itself and its chosen purpose. 

Remember this also, that truth as it self-defines with each sacred breath you take of life is characterized by simplicity.  Evil, being its opposite, is characterized by complexity.  With this information you can readily identify the true nature of the forces who vie for control of your life.

End blog post #99

April 19, 1979

[my life by   ~burning woman~  ]

And now, by popular request – thanks for being my cheering section George! – a little true story that will neither seem true, nor is it so little.

It’s a dark, cold and cloudy late afternoon in Chilliwack. It’s April 19, 1979 and I’m at the end of my rope, parked in the back of an old hotel, (now long gone) the kind that rents rooms by the hour and I am seriously contemplating suicide. Nothing left to live for, it seems.

I’m 33 years old and I’ve just been advised by several surgeons and medical experts that my debilitated back condition was not fixable. I was looking at spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair probably within months. That was an unacceptable option.

Yes, I had already spent money and time on the do-it-yourself self-healing things; the vitamins, the exercise things, the special chairs and mattresses things. This was it: the final choice.

That’s when “it” happened. I was caught in some sort of trance and pulled into an alternate reality. I can still see the scene. I was in two places at once. I was standing, painlessly I might add, and talking with a very tall, slim individual in a white floor length “gown”. He had long straight white hair that flowed over his shoulders and a very kindly looking, very serious face. I was also lying down on what seemed like a hospital bed and there were three other entities around me doing “medical” stuff much as you would see in a modern Earth hospital minus all the hardware – but for the bed, there was none. (Maybe that was a ninite bed, eh, George? – ref to: https://randomwalkthroughintelligentuniverse.wordpress.com/)  

I remember how good it felt just being there. The tall one spoke to me and I realized he was part of the healing team, giving me advice on how to proceed to live my “new” life once they were done. He said much more than I could absorb but the great thing about these types of communications is they are given in “zipped” package format which can be opened and drawn from, bit by bit over time. I didn’t know that then and I didn’t care.

 

What I cared about was hearing that my body was being fixed and I was being “sent back” to my old life to “work things out” so to speak. I did not like that idea. Going back to what I was, even minus the back pain, was unacceptable. We had a “discussion” in which I tried to explain why I did not want to go back, and he explained that first of all it wasn’t a choice I could make and secondly there was a very good reason for going back. His explanations, in brief, as I remembered afterwards.

“Know that every *ISSA being who chooses to incarnate does so with, and for, a purpose. It is because these purposes are seldom remembered, least of all completed, that worlds like yours (there are so many!) remain in their terrible darkness of pain and sorrow. You will need to awaken to the purpose you set for yourself before you reincarnated on Earth and you will need to activate that mind template of yours to complete your “this life” tour of duty to your world. The life we are returning to you, and returning you to, is not meant to be lived selfishly any longer. You will find that not to be a burden, but a source of bliss and joy as you get used to it.”

“Could I not just forget this, end this, and start again somewhere else, clean, free of the memories of the mess I’ve made of this life?”

“No. Too many things left unfinished and to jump you out of your responsibilities, even if it was permitted, would serve neither your ends, nor ours as regards your world. We have a stake in how you and others like yourself perform when they return to the reality of their particular societies. Your request is non-negotiable. We are now returning you to your life exactly at the point where we intercepted it minus any physical pain or dis-ease, such as your back disruptions and allergies. Those are already gone.

You will not be left alone to work things out. People, whom you will call “Teachers” will be assigned to you, to provide advice and answer the thousands of questions you will have. Do not get attached to them. They will fulfill their own duty towards you and when done, leave you with all the information you will need, safely stored in “information packets” which your mind will tap into at need. They will teach you how to open your information packets based on need. Nothing and no one will be able to remove that information from your mind, nor can it be faked. When doubts and confusion arise, as will constantly happen, that is where you go for confirmation and support. But be very diligent in transferring any information you open into personal thinking patterns and into action. In other words, we have changed your body but you must change your own mind using that information.

That’s how it all started, 40 years ago. I can just imagine some reading this thinking (or saying) “Well talk about programming! She’s one to talk.” And it’s true, it is a form of programming if the information was simply accessed and put into a “faith” folder or used to write self-help delusion novels; if it was turned into a proselytizing process, like Christians and Muslims do with their particular information.

There are massive differences to the faith-based belief systems. One is, this remains a personal matter. Two, I am personally acquainted with its source and I’ve tested its reliability, consistency and trustworthiness. Three, I can talk about it to anyone who asks questions but I’ve always said that what I “have” inside is not transferable except as words bereft of any kind of manipulative force or any hidden power agenda. Individually or collectively people can tap into what I say and what I do but there is zero access to what I possess of cosmic knowledge. Only I have the key and I cannot “loan” it to anyone nor can the information be extracted through any form of duress. If it was it would be in a code that nothing could crack.

Having opened up this can of worm, I’ll just leave it open…

*ISSA: Acronym for intelligent, sentient, self aware

 

 

 

 

 

I Am so Ready!

I Am so Ready

(thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara)

No matter the number of years I’ve thought about it and meditated on what it means to me, the idea that I am ‘so ready’ for that final breath is still, well, stunning. I’ve given myself the freedom to speak openly about my ‘impending’ death for some time now even if it causes a frozen lull in most conversations.

Why would someone speak about dying? Some are simply fed up and think, ‘enough is enough’ while some, if rarely, are eager to join up with their chosen loving deity or whatever. That’s not how it is for me.

Am I dissatisfied with the conditions of Earth as imposed upon it by a ruling species unwilling to control its power and take responsibility for its actions? Certainly but that does not drive me to despair, quite to contrary, since I have an impeccable solution to such problems.

Do I think that I’ve done enough and it’s time for a much deserved break from the merry-go-round and the pig pen? No, quite the opposite: I know I haven’t performed to the best of my abilities and there is so much more to be done. I know that my sudden “departure” would currently leave some people in the lurch.

No, my sense of being ready does not come from selfish motives. It comes from an innate knowing. It comes from a bursting of joy having something good and tangible to take with me after a wonderful day at the fair.

The fair is still going full bore; I could stay and play some more but speaking of bore, any fair will get boring if it goes on too long. I don’t want this to go on past the point where I can enjoy it. I don’t want to just sit in the car as the night falls and the lights come on only to fade.

There is a sense of fullness that is driving me, today particularly. I want to enjoy that quiet if passionate, fullness. I want to enjoy one accomplishment in particular: detachment. There is nothing, and no one that has the power to hold me here. I am the one with the power, all of it and that means I have also managed to get a handle on self empowerment.

I choose, I decide, no regrets. I gave myself a purpose for my life henceforth and that purpose is anchored within my own nature now. Like Leto Atreides II choosing to forfeit his humanity in order to become a sand worm, the Fremen deity called Shai’Hulud, I have forfeited my humanity (or perhaps gained it!) by turning myself over to becoming an avatar of compassion.

This is done now. What comes next, is next. I live in the joy of this accomplishment. I was taught even as a child that it is possible to change one’s nature. I had to prove it to myself and the answer is, yes.

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #59

“You woman now.  What you want be?  I not understand you.”

“I want be more than what I be, Tiki.  Better.  In good ways, not evil ways.  I tired of killing.  Tired of blood and screams.  Tired all over.  Old now Tiki, very, very old.  But cannot go yet, cannot leave, cannot die.  I first find me, better me.  Good woman me.  I first do something good for another person.  If you not understand, no matter.  You remember I say this and put my words in your head.  They grow there.  Ideas.  You say to me woman thinks is stupid.  Is not stupid Tiki.  I think always.  Think, think.  I watch men, learn.  Design new weapons, train in new way for women to fight so live longer; so you live longer.  I stay here, not die because I want help women be stronger, live longer.  Is nothing else for me.”  

[end blog post #58]
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[begin blog post #59]

“You do this for me, not you????”  She shakes her head from the novelty of the idea, that someone would deliberately sacrifice herself to help others when there is possibly an easier way out.  This is a thoroughly alien concept.  I must proceed carefully.

“You know love?”  I ask for a reaction.

“Love!” she snorts and looks at me.  “I know love.  Bad thing.  Men, they love me many times.  They love girls, hurt them, kill them.  They say it making love, it good for us.  They lie.  It no good.  Only with you it good.  Different love with you; nice, warm, good.  I like love with you.” 

I am thankful for the darkness and that she isn’t Cholradil because my tears are flowing freely and I cannot speak for some time.  I wipe my face with the back of my arm.  These little characters are so simple, remain so candid even through their nightmare lives.  It’s like living in a black and white cartoon world trying to hold the little creatures together and reshaping them with a pencil and an eraser.  Matter of fact; good or bad.  No shades in-between.   I want to drop into her space, hug her… fall in love with her… and give her my heart. 

Put a check on that right now, woman.  Remember she is one of millions, perhaps billions.  You cannot help her unless you help all of them with equal power and abandon.  Can you do that?

“Love with friend is good, yes.  But when friend gone, what you do Tiki?”

“I know.  I have friend before here.  She good with me.  She have accident, die.  I know love then.  It mean very sad.  Much pain here.”  She puts my hand to her heart.

“So even with friend, lover, love still mean pain?”

“Yes.  Sometime lover taken away, or leave to go with other woman.  Then you all alone and very sad.  Hurt much.  Angry too.  Want to kill other woman.  I see this here.  Love, even good love, big trouble.  If you go now, I hurt much.  I sad and angry, I know.”

“Listen Tiki.  There is love that give no hurt, no pain.  Even if all gone, all lost, still no pain.  Just good love.  Always good love.”

She sits up then and looks into my face, notices the remaining traces of tears.  Touches them and licks the salty liquid.  “You hurt?  I hurt you?”  She is incredulous and afraid.

“No, not you.  I hurt me.  Inside, I be many people, in my heart, in my head.  Many people from many places, stars, times.  Now and long ago.  I different.  Not from this world Tiki.  We feel things.  Know things.  Often cry great sadness for what hurt people everywhere.”

“Other places?  Other worlds?  Many people inside you? Women they say you Desert Beast.  Is true this?”

“What do you know of this Desert Beast, Tiki?”

“Only what guardians say when I little.  They sing sad song in my ear.  Song of long ago before Man take this place.  Woman free then.  Have place to live, children have mother.  Run free outside, run in rain, in grass, swim in river and big water.  The man, he my handler when I be little.  He say there be bird in sky, many many, beautiful white bird.  Bird, it laugh, it very happy, like children, girls, they happy then too and laugh.  He say in song this place protected by Great Desert Beast, she mother of all children of world.

“He say Desert Beast, she very tall and she have green scales over body.  Green hair, green eyes.  Like you have green eyes too.  She fly in sky boat that make thunder and it have fire like sun to push.  Very strong boat that fly even in night sky.  See everything.  He say other Beasts like her come with her in other boats.  Talk to the people and give gifts, beautiful things, make things grow and build houses and make life happy.  It is good, he say, but one day another very dark, very big sky boat come.  It kill the people, take girls away.  In sky there is terrible battle and Great Desert Beast boat go down into ground, into desert sand with big ball of fire.  He say no one see again.  Only big black boat sail off, go away far. 

“The man he say the black sky boat have home like this one and all females put in cages there.  Much sorrow on world after.  Nothing same.  No one free.  Men crazy with anger and rage, kill women until black metal demons come out of sky boat to stop killing.  They have fire weapons, kill many men.  New law they give.  Women now slaves of men.  Woman speak, die.  Woman hit man, die.  Woman do anything displease man, die.  No more children for women.  Now we born from female, but not have mother, just strange people to care, teach, train.    

She stops as if to ponder what she just told me.  I can see her mind working, the deep frown on the pale skin of her forehead.  She blurts out angrily: “It just stupid sad story, mean nothing.  Old men talk, sad old cut men (she means eunuchs) telling stories.  I listen then, young and stupid, think maybe I believe.  Now no longer.  I strong.  This real.  I learn, I fight, I live.  I from this world. If other worlds like you say they not for me.” 

She continues with the same angry, disillusioned tone:  “Why you want to hear stupid story?  They call you Desert Beast for green eyes.  You come from desert, yes?  This they say.  But you no beast, just bigger woman, longer arm, legs, stronger.  You die too, like us, like all woman.  No different.  Same.  All same, always same.  I know.  It the way of it.”

[end blog post #59]

Antierra Manifesto -blog post #58

Thus do I begin the training of a slave girl to come to a place of self-awareness and understanding.  Small steps, all to be taken within the system.  Step outside, even once and your chances of being flogged to death are almost one hundred percent sure.  You can bend rules as long as you are willing and able to unbend them immediately, but woe to you if you break them.

[end blog post #57]
______________________

[begin blog post #58]

That night Tiki is angry.  Not at me, she knows nothing of my intercession to get her to work kitchen duty, but at the men. 

“Damn them, damn them, damn them!” she mutters in that hoarse whisper all females learn to speak in from the time they utter their first words.  “I be fighter, not gorok!  I train with weapon, not clean dirty bowl and sweep floor for dirty cooks.  Damn them!”  

A ‘gorok’ is a particular class of female worker slave who does the most menial type of kitchen work.  She doesn’t cook, or even serve.  She peels, grinds, husks and cleans, cleans, cleans, endlessly.  Her “shifts” have no set times.  She is up hours before anyone else, warming up ovens, washing utensils and cleaning counters and floors.  She sleeps, when permitted, during the middle hours of the day and of the night.  She is up late into the night cleaning, locked inside the kitchens with sensors ready to set off alarms if she walks outside her perimeter.  A slave of slaves.  There is usually a round the clock complement of eight of these goroks in our kitchens.

Because Tiki is my slave, she is allowed out of the kitchens at nightfall to spend the night with me.  I had hoped otherwise, but I can redeem this time, I think.  I fully enjoy her outburst.  There is fire in this one.  Not hate, not pride, just pure fire.  She has a dream, a vision, however short: to be the best fighter ever to grace the arena.  To beat my record.  I can tell.  Now to blend patience and humility into that fire so it can never be doused, whatever happens to the body of this woman. This one is going to develop into a true mind being, I can sense that already.  I have three years to prepare her to become a hero to the women of her world.  That’s sufficient when one has good material to work with.  It is my turn to do my hoarse communication.

“Come Tiki,”  she rolls between my legs and cuddles against my body.  “You be fine.  You no gorok.  You be fine fighter, best fighter.  Say you this every day.  Pick up broom, it ‘staff’ for you.  Sweep husks and peelings from floor like opponents in arena – just dust to Tiki.  Strong is Tiki.  Mongoose shaking cobra to death.”  She nudges deeper into me, her hair tickling my throat and begins unselfconsciously sucking her thumb.  I take her hand gently and pull the thumb out of her mouth and offer her my nipple instead.  She takes it greedily and smiles at me.  Haven’t I been here before?  Beware Antierra, the snakes aren’t all outside in the coarse grasses at the edge of the desert!  They be hissing from the very walls that contain you.

Wars aren’t won in a day.  They take planning, patience, courage and finally just the sheer gut of the fighters to win them.  Tiki does not take kindly to her new life.  From kitchen duty she is shifted to cleaning the straw in the cages and then to sweeping the yards and washing the blood on the flagstones where some of the women have been “punished” for certain infractions.  In this past week we were made to witness two “punishments” to the death, one of an older fighter whose owner cancelled his contract and condemned her to the next killing orgy.  She was put into a private killing orgy for the trainers, a bit of fun approved by the overseer.  She was led to the centre of the yard and  armed with nothing but a standard training staff, was viciously set upon by six trainers until they had managed to break several ribs and one arm.  When she could no longer defend herself they crushed her skull.  When she died they cheered and toasted their victory.  Old king Jestor would have been truly proud of these men.

The other, a trainee who had a nightmare and did not shut up in time when one of the women tried to awaken her, was flogged to death for breaking the rule of silence.  We watched, listened to her screams and pleas for mercy, her dying moans.  We heard the standard warning, returned to life as usual.  What I would give, had I anything to give, to enter the auto-medic and be given the heart of an android, or better, a heart of stone.  To not feel.  To not have to endure this suffering planet.

It is the way of it… and I cannot help feeling.  To cry?  To curse?  I glance at the bloody, pulpy mess hanging from that steel torture pole I know intimately.  I wonder why it is not I who is hanging there.  I imagine the life that was there, that is no more.  I sat next to her yesterday at morning meal and she smiled sadly at me under her eyelashes.  Well, maybe it is me there because I realize I cannot curse.  If I cannot curse, then I have incarnated all of it.  Each time another dies, I die two deaths: hers and mine.  Malefactus is a neuro-inductor and I am attached to its probes all the time.  

Under the wan light of Albaral coming through the openings in the high black stone walls Tiki and I talk in our cage as we nestle against each other enjoying the mutual warmth of our bodies.  Menial labour brings anger and shame from Tiki.  She is afraid they want to demote her to the rank of goronda, the general purpose female worker drone.  “Damn them!” – her favourite expression towards men in general.  That fire is burning dangerously bright.  The wick needs trimming or the flame will smoke up the glass and obscure the vision. 

I study my feelings for her as a hawk watches his prey moving unawares, feeding peacefully in the grasses below his perch.  I must let her take all of me she needs yet refuse to ever let her possess any of me.  I know how to do this, I know I can do it, but do I have the willpower?  How does an older woman not lose herself in those black pools of sadness that pass for eyes in such children who have never experienced childhood?  Creatures destined to die before they experience adulthood?  What does that make them?

I try my best logic on her.  “Tiki, listen me.  I good fighter, yes?”

“Yes sir, you best fighter.  All women say you best.”

“You trust me, Tiki?”

She replies with a hoarse grunt.  “Huh?”

“Trust.  Believe me.  You think me true to you?”

“Oh yes!  You say, I believe.”

This is extremely dangerous ground.  Who in their right mind wants to be believed by someone who will put her life at stake for what you tell her?  I speak slowly, pitching my voice so she can get every word, every inflection – the tone of voice to them being much more meaningful than the words used to convey it. 

“Good you believe.  But careful you be not believe everything I say.”  She tries to speak and I put my hand on her mouth.  “Wait, I finish, I explain.  I know things you not know.  Things good for me.  Maybe not good for you.  You, me, different.  You listen – I say – you try.  If work for you, is good for you, yes?  If not work for you, is not good for you.  I not know if good for you.  I guess.  I have vision.  Like you but is my vision.  You have vision to be best fighter.  Good vision.  I have different vision.  To be best woman; to be good woman.  I not good woman Tiki.  Good fighter only.  But man can be good fighter too, better than best woman.  But man cannot be good woman.  I have what called “exclusive” vision – be special. 

“You woman now.  What you want be?  I not understand you.”

“I want be more than what I be, Tiki.  Better.  In good ways, not evil ways.  I tired of killing.  Tired of blood and screams.  Tired all over.  Old now Tiki, very, very old.  But cannot go yet, cannot leave, cannot die.  I first find me, better me.  Good woman me.  I first do something good for another person.  If you not understand, no matter.  You remember I say this and put my words in your head.  They grow there.  Ideas.  You say to me woman thinks is stupid.  Is not stupid Tiki.  I think always.  Think, think.  I watch men, learn.  Design new weapons, train in new way for women to fight so live longer; so you live longer.  I stay here, not die because I want help women be stronger, live longer.  Is nothing else for me.”  

[end blog post #58]