Category Archives: Social Commentary

Well, which will it be?

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

I’d say it’s not as bad as some would have you believe, and I’d say it’s way worse than most choose to believe.

So what am I talking about? I could be talking about climate change, or I could be talking about the after and continuing effects of the draconian imposition of the new global medical religion (GMR) called COVID-19, or I could be talking about the state of the economy (remember when there was such a thing?), or I could be talking about the general state of mind of the planet’s predatory parasite called Homo Sapiens.

I guess I can take my pick.

What is the global state of mind today? It’s in full doublethink mode. It wants to go back to the old normal and at the same time it wants to dutifully, religiously, follow the guidelines of “reducing the spread of the virus” implemented by… WHO actually? No one really knows but the bureaucrats were no slouch in seeing their golden opportunity to push their little puppeteering fascist dictatorial minds to the fore. However it happened, they realized they had just been handed a new kind of controlling power they had never thought possible in their wildest dreams.

Now we have this unbelievable performance of badly trained, mostly untrained, monkeys, dutifully maintaining their 6 foot rule and wearing masks and even gloves when in certain places, particularly near (can’t get in – keep your viruses on the street, peons!) government institutions as I saw this morning while paying my property taxes, lining up outside in the rain but all maintaining that “stiff upper lip” and finding things to smile and laugh at. How very commendable, such dutiful (if hypocritical) obedience to despised authority!

Then comes the shopping and things are quite different. Here in the aisles it’s business as usual, people pushing by each other to grab something – and one youngish couple definitely not keen on social distancing as he’s caressing and pinching her ass and she, smiling and enjoying. OK, so I like that reaction better. How can you make babies if you shoot from 6 feet away?  Maybe with an extended Bill Gates syringe – yeah, picture that.

The thing to remember (or to know if there is no remembering) is that chaos and confusion do not lead to clear thinking, quite the opposite. What do people generally do when severely confused? They become religious. They become believers. They choose one side or the other of an issue and it becomes faith. It no longer requires proof or testing. It no longer requires serious observation to determine the rightness or wrongness of institutional claims. It demands faith. With it or against it, no middle ground and those who insist on standing in the middle will be coerced or eliminated.

Groupthink is designed to operate on doublethink. Doublethink is how polarized individuals continue to function as if their situation (Germany under Nazism as prime example) was completely normal. There are no death camps; babies aren’t being killed with vaccines: conspiracy! Conspiracy! Shut them up! Censor their articles on social media, keep us from having to think!

The Grand Wizard throws the bones and interprets them as saying, “Stay home! Quarantine! Maintain Social Distancing!” and the sheeple respond with an enthusiastic: “Praise the Bones!” The Grand Wizard throws the bones the next day and interprets them as saying, “Go Back to Work!” “Return your Children to School!” “Go Shopping!” “Attend Church!” and the sheeple respond with the same enthusiastic braying of “Praise the Bones!” No perceived dichotomy – it’s business as usual, either way. Those who raise a fuss are deluded conspiracy theorists.

Nobody questions what the bones will say tomorrow morning because the ability to reason was taken away long ago. It was taken away by Religion. Then it was taken away by Royalty. Then it was taken away by Capital and consumerism, the death of which we are living through, as unaware as ever, as when Religion ceased to rule and as when Royalty became a symbol of shame. Same old, same old. The state of mind of the average pee-on remains much the same as it always was. Keep on drinking your mandated daily intake of elitist urinade. If you run short your children will be given their liter a day from daycare to college. Hold on tight to your sequacious beliefs.

But we have done one thing none of the previous conquerors of Earth were able to do: we have arrogantly exceeded the set limits to growth. Earlier failed civilizations didn’t get there: they did not have our capacities to industrialize and did not have our technology to turn industry into a planet eating monster. With such distinction we win the prize. We inherit nature’s final gift: entropy. It’s already in our mouths and it’s kind of muddy, salty, gritty, bitter tasting. It’s called climate change and nothing, absolutely nothing, that man does under current societal conditions can change its direction and purpose. Think the four horses of the Apocalypse: climate change can be either one or all four. It is riding to the end of things as we have known them and we’re not on its back but under its hoofs.

 

COVID-19 – What is that finally all about?

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

COVID-19, the Day the World Ended… or was it civilization as we’d come to know it… or was it a natural, totally unexpected plague that threatened to annihilate mankind? One of the four horses of the Apocalypse, Death, Famine, War or Conquest, take your pick? Maybe none of the above descriptions or criteria? Maybe simply another convenient false flag?

I would like this to be a synopsis (hopefully short) of what I’ve learned so far about COVID-19. Wow, and good luck with that, I’m thinking. What haven’t I learned and what’s worth remembering now that we’re fully engaged into a “fanfreluche” war against a chimera. Explanation for those not of French extraction: Fanfreluche is a living doll who retells fairy tales and legends to the viewers. When the story goes a way that displeases her, she physically enters the story to “fix” the ending. I hope you can see the connection!

So, what I know, so far. The virus, real, imagined or partially real, no one will ever know now because the waters in the wake of its very loud passage were so muddied nothing can be seen, not even by the very best forensic pathologist, not even the non-existent bodies blamed on its passage can be found. I won’t say no one died a bit sooner than otherwise from the effects of this “manipulated” (medical experts’ consensus) corona virus “extract” but it is also true that the CDC has “advised” medical examiners to label any death due to complications of various pre-existent conditions as COVID deaths.

Reason for that? Think two things: profits for emptied hospitals being paid big bucks for declaring C-19 deaths and governments eager to enter into a new age of totalitarianism, putting an end to those annoying “democracies” with their constitutions demanding that leaders be accountable to the peons. That was an intolerable affront to ruling elites. Well, no more of that, it’s over. The “divine right of kings” has been re-established. “Wear a mask-step, sanitize your hands-step, six-foot rule-step, nitril gloves-step, report your neighbours-step, no large gatherings-step… step-step-step. Halt! Papiere bitte! Vakzine? Nein? You’re under arrest! Turn around, hands behind back or I will shoot you like the dog that you are.”

What else did I learn? Well, during the whole C-19 brouhaha, the problems of climate change miraculously disappeared. Wow! Some even went so far as to claim that suddenly the planet’s physical, if not mental, condition was doing much better. According to hyped up disinformation, the air and even the waters, were so much cleaner. Why? Well because for a few days people drove maybe 20% less and airliners stayed on the ground. I didn’t buy the cleaner air claims but then I’m not exactly an easy sell for propaganda. I like to annoy claimants by stating, “Don’t tell me, show me.” I didn’t see anything. Chilliwack, where this is coming from, is bottled up at the east end of the Fraser Valley and the mountains (see my blog’s header picture!) act as a giant collector of city and port pollution from the coast, from Seattle, north to Vancouver, B.C. Wonder why our pollution levels didn’t seem to “lighten up”? But the good news is, we no longer have to worry about climate change. Fanfreluche is re-writing that part of the tale.

I also learned that during the “pandemic” the problem of a crashing economy due to gross malfeasance and corruption in all highest places of government, military, banking and corporate prevarication was conveniently laid on the shoulders of little Fanfreluche. Up to her now to go in there and change the way the tale is to be re-told! The perpetrators can line up at the trough again, like they did in 2008 and rack up some more billions; buy up more stock options and cut off the small investors out of any hope for some profit on their investments. The “roaring twenties” repeated… in spades! Now comes massive unemployment; loss of homes and security: all COVID’s fault, naturally. Oh, and let’s not forget the “incremental” profits by humongous corporations as tens of thousands of small businesses are neatly excised from the competition field. Does it get better than that?

What else? I came face-to-face with the worst corruption of all: the politicizing of what was presumably a serious medical situation; the blatant corruption of those in charge of developing a real solution to the virus. Instead of handling the virus like any other in previous years the entire planet was suddenly inveigled into acquiescing to outright stupid, inane, pointless and in most cases, deleterious rules ostensibly meant to “contain” the spread of the virus. I learned that those who at first jumped on the Bill Gates agenda to declare a world-wide “vaxable” emergency as millions were sure to drop dead in the streets, in elevators, on beaches, at parties, in swimming pools, in theaters, at board meetings, in planes, trains and automobiles, when caught in fragrante delicto recanted and began to say that the rules were worst than the disease they had been meant to contain.

Think “Dr.” Fauci (whom I lovingly like to call Herr Doktor Faucki Mengele) and his gross lies, not to mention his corrupt behaviour in moving his deadly virus research from Fort Detrick to… yes, Wuhan(!) after Obama shut him down in the States as his “research” was deemed too dangerous. So he took taxpayers’ money and gave it to China. Smooth that, very smooth. About a month and a half ago, his royal lowness, King Donald “promised” to look into Faucki’s corruption: I think we’re in for a very long wait on that one. Corruption investigating corruption? Not unless there’s profit in it for Trump, which based on the level of believers in the COVID divinity, there isn’t. We already know how the “political left” feels about King Donald ordering people back to work.  

We should be so much more trusting of our leaders, wherever we place them, shouldn’t we! When they say no, we know they mean yes and mean well. When they say yes, we know they mean no and mean well. When they tweet endlessly we know to bleat endlessly to complete the “Song of the Zombies.” It will be our very last performance, done alone, in a dark room, under quarantine and one kilometre/mile social distancing. No one will hear. 

We simply must do better

I’ve been seriously wondering lately what I, personally, am doing blogging on WordPress. (I indulge in no other so-called social media.) I’ve been reading many “dissenting” opinions on the recent/current, possibly permanent “pandemic” that the end result of all that information is a tub full of mush even pigs would turn away from, frowning in disgust.
I realize of course that was the whole point. This is 1984 revisited in which the entire planet is programmed/brainwashed to hold two contrary thoughts about an event or a situation while the group think creates the necessary condition of unawareness that such is happening.
As one blog article says, “Be Afraid” … “There’s Nothing to be Afraid of” https://talesfromtheconspiratum3474421390.wordpress.com/2020/05/16/watch-uk-chief-medic-confirms-again-that-covid-19-is-harmless-to-vast-majority/
Not being exactly brain dead, I did form an opinion very quickly on the purpose of COVID 19 media hype and mandated social distancing, obedience to authority self quarantining, and the mandatory shut down of “non-essential” mostly small businesses. That’s old territory that as a declared non-believer I was guaranteed to lose. I accept that and have moved on to a more relaxed position of observation: what are the believers going to do with their new conquered territory?
Well, they’re going to feel vindicated: they won because they were right. Having won however isn’t enough. Now they will need to see more vindication. How that plays out, we’ll see. More quarantines? Social distancing as a way of life? No more “anti-social” small businesses? More snitching by newly self-appointed COVID-19 informers? Definitely more tracking and a massive boo$t for the billionaire vaxxers. More instances of kids taken away from “non-compliant” parents.
The biggest loser in this madness was science. One aspect of the Great Pandemic Production was to turn any associated science into a New Religion. The believers queued up on their six-foot marks and followed the literal guide lines – ready to bow and pray to the virus god they made.
Very quickly COVID 19 became a god to be propitiated. The medical priesthood with their media talking heads eagerly surged to the fore to guide the faithful into proper performance of the Mass, complete with symbology of face hiding, hand washing, distancing. These were followed by self-congratulatory messages ostensibly for “front line heroes” who should be the very first to realize there was nothing “heroic” about doing their job; who should know they were massively conned into becoming on-call actors in a movie from which they would never see any substantial benefits.
“Look hon, they gave me a gold star today!”
“That’s nice. Did you get any extra pay? The cost of food has gone up drastically…”
“No, sorry. They said they spent all the extra money on boxes of gold and silver stars…”
My personal conclusions of this inconclusive matter: people are ignorant, even those with supposed advanced education. They haven’t got a clue so they have to believe what the propagandists tell them because they have no way to decide for themselves what is true and what is false. No problem though: substitute faith for facts and watch the cards slip out of the sleeves to guarantee a win.
Like the sheep browsing in the meadow who hear a thunder clap, they look up. But all is well: the shepherd is standing on the hill, under the big lone tree.
Would it occur to the sheep that perhaps standing on a hill under a lone tree during a thunderstorm may not be the wisest thing for a shepherd to do? Would it occur to the sheep to ignore the shepherd and seek shelter on their own?
No. Not until “something” triggers a stampede. Then it’s all good because everybody is running in the same direction and since everybody is doing it, then it’s the right thing to do. [see Rudyard Kipling quote below]
I wonder. People still claim to be intelligent, as a species. Is this display of massive hysteria and confusion amidst blatant corruption, cowardliness and barely disguised motives of leadership greed exceeding all known bounds, good enough for the Earthian company?
I hesitate to use the objective pronoun “we” but … We simply must do better.
Quote: “We are great. We are free. We are wonderful. We are the most wonderful people in all the jungle! We all say so, and so it must be true.” – monkey chant – Kaa’s Hunting, Rudyard Kipling

Dallas

Periodically I run a short story of mine here. Most of those pass by unobtrusively, a few likes, rarely a comment. I think it’s because most of my stories are parables that contain too damn much “Shatarian flossofy” that spoils the entertainment value. The odd time though, I can contain my exuberance and just tell a story.  Maybe this is such an odd time. Enjoy anyway.  Thanks for reading.
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Dallas was a week from her 15th birthday when she disappeared. I am her older brother by almost 2 years. My name is Greg, or for some, Gregory, 3rd oldest of five siblings. Home is Hope, a small town at the eastern end of the Fraser Valley, if you will. The house is in an older subdivision on the way to Kawkawa lake. Not much ever happens in Hope and Dallas’ disappearance created quite a stir for the next year, until nothing was discovered or found and like so many, Dallas’ fate entered the missing persons’ growing police files.
Needless to say, the family was not the same after that. Mom was disconsolate but adamant that Dallas was just “lost” as she put it, that nothing had happened to her. She managed to communicate this feeling to me and upon graduating from Hope Secondary, I decided to go in search of Dallas.
There wasn’t much to go by, but I knew Dallas intimately – we were more than siblings, we were close friends, and I knew a lot of things about Dallas that she had not shared with any one else. I knew that she was restless, not close to anyone and tired of being “mom’s girl” at home. Dallas had grown wings prematurely and wanted to try them out. She had talked to me about leaving home many times but it was always something in the future, when she was “of age” so to speak. But youth is fed by impatience and Dallas added impetuosity to the volatile mix. Hope and home were much too constricting for someone like her. I could remember her flashing dark brown eyes and black pony tail swinging back and forth when she entered into an argument about something she felt deeply about, and Dallas felt deeply about everything.
So, with only mom knowing my plans, and a little over 2 years since Dallas had gone missing; with some money from an uncle’s inheritance, I set out on my private search for her.
I went west, to the city and port of Vancouver. After settling down I focused on doing research on teens running away from home. I did a lot of work to create a working pattern. I rented cheap accommodations where I set up my notebook and bluetooth mini printer. I transcribed my notes from the day’s search into computer files and printed pictures of Dallas to put on posts, bulletin boards or to pass around. I got to know a few city police detectives on missing kids detail and everyday was a new learning experience. I won’t bore you with the endless false leads, and the sick people trying to cash-in on leading me to Dallas. I learned to smell them out pretty quickly. And all the while, I discovered the dark heart of a modern megalopolis.
Having made my peace with the reality of the city I knew that anything was possible. I interacted with prostitutes, pimps and massage parlours, any sort of place or business that might provide a haven for underage female runaways. I didn’t think Dallas would go that route but desperation narrows choices. On the other side, I frequented movie sets where a young girl’s ID might not be checked too closely when an extra was needed in a hurry. I checked the Internet for ads and agencies that placed babysitters or nannies.
It was a strange time. The more I came up blank, the more convinced I became that I was on Dallas’ trail and would find her.
I dreamt about her sometimes, and every dream showed me this: that she was not only all right, but had found herself and was happy with her new life. Sometimes I met her in a restaurant where she waitressed, or in a rich household where she worked as a nanny. There was always that mischievous look in her eyes, the twinkling that said, “I have a secret and I won’t tell you what it is until and unless you discover it for yourself.” Then she would laugh and the dream would end.

I emailed or texted mom fairly regularly, skipping many details but reassuring her that I was not only still looking, but increasingly sure that I would find Dallas and that she would be well. Often I would get a simple reply: “Thank you, Gregory, thank you. – Mom”
It occurred to me, after over a year, and a third of my funds gone, to combine my search with some practical course on private investigating and journalism. Within a few months I felt confident that I had enough horse sense and street smarts to try working. I answered an ad from a family looking for their disappeared son. I visited the people and explained what I was doing in Vancouver and convinced them that I knew enough to be of value to them. We settled on a fee and I added 14 year old “William” to my search query, creating a new set of patterns. Not surprising (to me) I found William with a group of Lost Boys downtown, trying to earn some money washing windshields at intersections.
Once I was sure of him, I waited for a chance and approached him as casually as I knew how, offering him a small amount of money if he would run an errand for me. He was hungry and broke and completed the errand in record time. Before I paid him, I told him his name and asked him if he ever thought about returning home.

“You a f…king cop?” he snarled and almost bolted from the outdoor table I had chosen for the exchange. I gently but firmly put my hand on his arm.
“Oh, don’t be stupid, Will. A cop wouldn’t ask you to run an errand. I wanted you to have that to think about before I talked to you.”
“So what’s the deal? Why do you care who I am or what I do?”
“Should be obvious – I’m a private investigator hired to find you, and I found you. I can have you home within the hour… if you’ll let me. Hey, it’s no skin off my nose if you run, I get paid regardless. I report that I found you, the location, and that you took off. Doesn’t sound too smart to me, though. Whatever caused you to run in the first place couldn’t have been that serious, and it’s been 6 months. I think it’s time for you to go home, finish school, then think about leaving with your head high this time, with a job or a degree at least. You’re not a poor homeless kid, William. You’re a spoiled Yuppie brat who may just have learned a valuable lesson now. You can take advantage of that. You know what gets you the farthest in life? Self-discipline. You can do it to wash windshields, surely you can do it to a greater end than that.”
So I returned a subdued William to his grateful parents. And I found other jobs; learned to collaborate with some of the undercover cops and my life slowly changed, but my purpose remained steadfastly the same: to find Dallas. Another year went by and I figured most would have given up by now. But something was inextricably linked in my mind: Dallas and the City. Dallas and I. All three of us were drawing together, I could sense this.
The City, as ugly and frightening as it had appeared at first, was definitely growing on me. I saw her gross sins and could forgive many of them. I interacted with her victims, the rich and the poor, and found out many didn’t mind being victims and I learned to accept that. And I wrote all of that down in my notes and began to feed some of my impressions to the borderline underground press that proliferated in the City. I deliberately used my real name to sign my articles and made sure it appeared frequently. I made a couple of “appearances” on radio talk shows about my work on the street, and what I had learned in interaction with the “Wendy’s” and the “Lost Boys,” as I called the runaways; their pimps, employers, lovers, and mentors.
And as I somehow knew it would, it happened: I found Dallas. She did investigating for a couple of Internet news blogs between other jobs, and she saw my name on an article, found the radio program on the Internet and contacted me by email. My heart soared as old Chief Dan George would have said. We chose to meet in a Starbucks, neutral grounds. I was there early because I wanted to watch her walk in; wondering how much she’d changed; if I would recognize her.
I had no trouble recognizing her face. Her hair was longer, no longer in a pony tail but allowed to flow freely thick over her shoulders. She appeared a bit taller, slimmer certainly, and much older. She wore a brown fake leather jacket and a short blue skirt and knee-length high heeled black boots. But that dark brown-eyed twinkle was as bright as ever.
“Dallas!” I couldn’t help calling as she looked over the crowd and line-ups. She saw me and smiled. It was still that special smile she used on me when we were “kids” it seemed so long ago. She came over, hugged me and went to get an espresso. I watched her, the poise, the certainty, the assurance. I should not have been surprised, but I was regardless. I couldn’t help but remember that she had not yet turned 15 when she left home and Hope to find herself. And I though it uncanny how right both mom and I had been about her. Except that she was never lost: she had her own map, her own destination and her own destiny to fulfill. And as I watched that young woman interacting with the guy behind the counter, I realized what her mind had told her, those eventful years ago: “It’s time Dallas. Leave – now, or forfeit your purpose. They will take you, when you come of age; when you have graduated, or earned a degree, and they will file you, pigeon-hole you, and you will become the living dead, just like your parents, your teachers, the adults you see on TV and meet in the stores. They will make you fit in. You’ll get married, get a house and stuff, have kids, part-time brain dead job, and walk the treadmill until you die. Walk away now, Dallas. You can do it.”
And, she had.
We didn’t talk very long that morning. I was on a case and she had reports to file, so we decided to meet at my place. Hers she said, was a bit crowded; she lived with two other women, one of whom was her lover – for the time being – she added with that twinkle. “Neither one of us is ready to settle, and I don’t think I want a serious relationship, at least not for a long time.”
She came to my place and having settled my case that afternoon and gotten paid, I got the goodies and wine and we talked, basically all through the night. And although the question was burning on my tongue, I never asked her why she hadn’t contacted mom, nor whether she would now. It didn’t seem appropriate and besides, she was the one asking the questions.
“OK, so I can see mom would try to put you up to this, but why did you come looking for me, Greg? Why didn’t you just let it go? Huh? She got up abruptly from the chair, sending it flying ass over tea kettle, turned, grabbed it and threw it back on its feet. She turned her back to me and talked: “I’ll tell you why you came to find me. You didn’t believe that I was lost. I became an opportunity for you, didn’t I. An excuse to leave also. Romance, excitement, feelings, emotions, so many things that tend to get bottled up in a small town stuck against a mountain and a river, things that can be let loose and expressed in countless ways, good and bad, here in the metro. You wanted what I had discovered. And you wanted to find me to prove to yourself that you had found it too. You followed me, not to find me, though that was your intent, but to find yourself. You were the one who was lost, Gregory. You were never going to find yourself in Hope, or in whatever institution you ended up working for. You sensed it, and you found my map in your mind, where I left you a copy. So, have you found yourself, Greg?”
She turned just as abruptly, leaned down with both hands flat on the small table and literally stared into my soul. She smiled thinly and sat down to sip some more wine. She waited for my answer.
“You are right, Dallas. The commitment, the gallantry, the chivalry, call it whatever you will, that was the cover story. The underlying motive was romance. I would do something different, and I had you to light my way. And Dallas?”
“Yes?”
“What a light you turned out to be!” She smiled again, and her eyes were wet, as were mine. We finished the wine and I called a taxi to take her home. We hugged once more just before she got in the car. She picked up the dragging edge of the long trench coat she was wearing and I closed the door, watching her disappear in the early morning mist and smog.
And the City stood surrounding us, neither smiling nor frowning, withholding comment and judgment.

There are Moments

[thoughts from   ~burning woman~   by Sha’Tara]

There are moments in my (aging) life when I become severely aware of how brief one physical human life is. I don’t live in that awareness of course but when I enter into it I can so keenly sense the past(s) and the future that beckons with its magical offerings of (mostly) unknowable possibilities and impossible to make choices. There is a dangerous longing in this greater awareness and confusion as well.

It confuses me because it does not fit the “normal” time of this world and it is this time that anchors me here, as contradictory as it seems. This particular life is the picket my ever-expanding life-leash is attached to. Until death do us part, that is. But what is death? It’s a birth canal, I suppose, a transfer from one world reality into another totally new and unexpectable or unpredictable.

That ever expanding leash is the sum total of my remembrances and memories. The longer it extends, the shorter any incarnated life will seem, of course and I’ve managed to extend that leash substantially in this life. I’m kind of proud of that actually. I’ve been hoarding some precious things this time around, things I now know I get to “take with me” because I’ve securely made them a part of me; of what I am. I have mentally evolved myself in an irrevocable fashion – a fashion not very popular on earth, I have to add. I have gathered for myself those treasures that no thief can steal, no moth can eat, no rust can destroy. Why? Because they are non-material treasures. 

In this very short life that is about to end I’ve managed to trade in a lot of petty earlier acquisitions for some serious ones. For example, I’ve traded in most of my emotional baggage, a lot of it from past lives and much of it held on to for purely egotistical reasons. I thought if something was “fun” or “exciting” once, with my experiences I could improve on that, make the same moves more fun or exciting. I learned that was silly because there was no substance in that suitcase full of emotional baggage. I got a little bag to keep some of it and ditched the suitcase. Done and done. Instead I’ve learned about self empowerment; about detachment; about joy and sorrow. I’ve taught myself the true meaning of ‘love’ which is spelled ‘compassion’ and I’ve activated my own sense of empathy. I’ve learned to manipulate energy so as to be able to give without expecting to receive in return because I can extract my spiritual and mental energetic needs from myself.

Sometimes I can actually see the “gateway” I will soon be standing in front of and I get shudders. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve stood in front of such a gateway there is no memory of how it was before. Because we mutate with each incarnation we are never the same when we approach the gateway, and it is never the same gateway. Each one leads to a different reality based on the message it receives from your mind, hence the shudder: it’s totally unpredictable and a little bit scary.

OK, it’s unavoidable so… go! Jump! And that’s what we do isn’t it. Believer or not, prepared or not, we all make the jump and we all end up somewhere. This last time that somewhere was here, as it was for all of you! I don’t know if I’d ever met any of you (all of you who crossed my own path in this life) but now we have. For lesser or greater memories! I don’t know if any of us will ever meet again – possibly if we have unfinished business. None of that matters at this point, does it.

I remember saying to some, “I’ll see you again on the other side.” and only recently did I come to realize how childish that is. Considering an infinity beyond size or boundaries of space or time, it’s silly to say, “I’ll see you again.” Such a limiting statement, such attachments deny one the freedom offered by a cosmic infinity. This reminds me of a poem a friend wrote some time back which said, let me live a full and vibrant life that leaves no path, not even a footprint to entice anyone else to try to follow into. That is total detachment. That is self empowerment.

This is April 2020. I see and read about a lot of frightened, confused, even angry people. Needy people who want to be safe, protected, felt sorry for, dependent, needy for collective support and agreement and very confused. You know what I’m referring to and this may be a good place to mention that if there really is a truly deadly killer virus about, I can think of one good reason for it, never mind all the theories and beliefs.

Mankind has allowed itself the unthinkable luxury of growing its population and a gargantuan technological society that is literally eating everything this world had to offer in terms of comfortable survival for all. Eight billion individuals(and growing) wanting and needing and taking, contributing absolutely nothing to their natural environment(!) when it is calculated that one billion is a maximum number in a fair exchange situation.

Isn’t it conceivable that if there is such a thing as a smart nature, or a Gaian super-organism, call it what you will, sooner than later the axe is going to fall and mankind will be called to account for engaging the greatest crime of all: ecocide.

It may seem contradictory but it’s in times when I feel the strongest attraction to my gateway that Earth’s condition appears the most poignant. I look back at what I’m about to leave and I have to ask myself: what has man accomplished that stands superior to anything natural life has to offer?

Not a thing. Not one single thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.