Category Archives: Suicide

Antierra Manifesto – blog post #105

I scan the skies and I’m happy to see the great cyclones of sand continuing to partially block the sun’s rays and the sky’s normally sharp blue is of a tan colour. The ‘goddess’ continues to bless our efforts, it would seem. ‘I thank you Mother’ I whisper quietly and in my heart I feel a flutter of a response. She is awakening, I know.

End blog post #104
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Start blog post #105

Chapter 41 – An Execution Order is Signed – A Killing Orgy Scheduled

Several days after the escape two men in dark blue uniforms wearing the red epaulets of those who work with the Fighter Council approach me as I spar with a couple of trainees.

“You gora, you come here now.” Peremptorily and angry. I quickly drop my weapons and approach the men with the mandatory bowed head.

The one on the right intones, “You be condemned by official statute. Must die. Prepare now.” The other flashes a sheet of ‘official’ yellow paper before my face and assuming I can’t read anyway, just rolls it up in a holder and files it in a shoulder bag. Of course it’s the long expected execution order that has finally been approved and signed. So this is it… and I don’t know what to feel here for a moment. I hadn’t been expecting this. I wonder why now? Time to apply the Teaching to myself: “When nothing matters, it will all be yours.” I return to the sparring line, pick up my weapons and continue with the training. How does a ‘gora’ prepare to be killed?

Turns out there is a very simple answer to that question. After the training session, even before the ritual washing and meal I’m taken to the cages by two handlers never seen in the compound. They practically drag me all the way to the back to be chained by the wrists to bars with the ‘dikfols’ who just stare at me. The stench in this part of the cages is almost unbearable, second only to what I remember of the Warmo’s death chamber. The chains are so short I can’t bring my hands to my neck or face.

Of course this is their way to prevent me from committing suicide and also add to my ‘punishment’ before they can fully taste their revenge. They, whomever ‘they’ be, have hated me for a long time, for the fortunes I cost them and the “great” men I killed, such as their prince and his aide; the many aristocrats on whom they bet huge sums of money; for the hundreds of very expensive drooks I also killed and especially for their dearly departed Warmo.

They have hated me for the alien fighting techniques I taught the women, enabling them to kill more challengers and live longer. They have hated me not only because I am a gora but because they know I’m some kind of alien and realize they should have killed me the day I came to Hyrete. Now they are about to get their revenge. I suppose the most likely method will be for “they” to take turns flogging me to death in a public arena show. It is the way of it. I’ll be chained here until the day of the execution, and whatever method they choose, they are not about to tell me. They want me to sweat it. They already know that I know it will be as pain-filled as they know how to make it.

So here I am finally at the end of the run. I’m still not sure of my feelings. Angry? Afraid? Eager to get it over with? I suppose all of that. I have to sort myself out and decide who I am not. Certainly I’m no longer the fighter. I’m no longer the Teacher. Am I then just another dikfol waiting to die in some cruel fashion designed and applied by misogynist males who fear life?

But you see there is justice in the ‘law of attraction’ as it is still called. It is not a law, of course, but some strange force that forms like an aura around those who focus upon the future. I wanted to taste Malefactus to its very dregs, to experience its horrors so as to truly know what it is like to be a woman on such a world. I wanted to be reminded what it has been like, what it continues to be like, for millions of women on Túat Har also for as long as the system there remains under a male-dominated hegemony. I’m tasting it indeed, just as I chose to. This is no accident; no miscarriage of justice. This is what the child finds under the tree on Christmas morning. “I want that!” she had said, pointing at a toy in a store window. Mom tells dad and the toy manifests under the tree with her name on it. A so simple aspect of the Force.

Some used to say to me, “Be careful what you ask for, you may get it.” I can vouch for this: I have been very careful and mindful of everything I’ve asked for. Through commitment and dedication; through honesty and compassion – even if that latter was stretched thin at times – I got what I asked for. Will it bear the fruit I long for? Who knows. I’m just planting the seed in the ground. For the tree to grow strong and tall and bear good fruit much depends now on others, on others’ labour in the orchard. All that remains for me to do here is to water that seed. For that it needs my blood and it shall get it, but it is still my hope it will be properly mixed with my sweat as well. We shall see.

The chains do not prevent us from lying down; they are short so we can’t deliberately strangle ourselves in them but they are on rings that slide around specially made upside down L-shaped bars so we can stand, even walk a bit along the horizontal part, then slide back and down to sleep. Ingenious these men, really. Imagine if they spent even half the effort they put into inventing ways to restrain, constrain, torture and kill into other pursuits like finding ways to better the lives of their poor and oppressed? Oh well, that will happen when it happens if it happens but not by talking about it. I’m hungry and I don’t know if I’ll be fed tonight but I need rest and that I can do for myself.

I hear the rest of the fighters and trainees return to the cages for count and lock down for the night. Nothing for it but go to sleep. The poor dikfols around me aren’t fed or cleaned after either. We share our misery. I slide down into old and thin straw that does not protect my skin from the cold and damp stones. Fine and never mind. This too I need to experience again. When I came here I spent my second night chained naked to the steel execution post outside in the compound. I thought then I’d die of exposure but survived to live as a fighter for thirteen years, from 1328 to 1341. The record says I racked up the greatest number of kills for one individual, and have been the longest lasting fighter. Well, as you know, I had help. I wasn’t after such records in any case but they helped establish my reputation among the women as they became more inclined to listen to some of my mad stories which I dub the Teaching.

The clanking of steel gates opening announces morning. I’m stiff but otherwise feel quite refreshed and ready to face whatever the day brings. A half dozen young women, some practically overwhelmed by the stench in our section, bring us food and feed us as our hands cannot reach our faces. Then they proceed to rake the straw, bring buckets of cold water, wash down the stones, even wash down the bodies of those of us who let them, and later carry in fresh straw on large wooden forks. One of the girls approaches me and whispers a memorized message in my ear: “We are aware of your condition. The doctor has gone to the King to see what can be done. The execution order stands but he hopes to change it from a public flogging to a killing orgy that you may have a chance to once more fight for the women of Malefactus alongside the others condemned to death with you. The killing orgy is in two days. Be brave and remember we all thank you and will remember you here.”

Undoubtedly the message came from the YBA Cydroid in the kitchen. I’m heartened by her message. We are never alone. After the girls have left I lay down in the fresh straw to ponder my life some more. Mostly about things I feel I could have done better and want to remember. I sleep, wake, sleep some more. The girls left us a bucket of water and by stretching we can pass it along from woman to woman. We all drink from it as the heat intensifies through the day. There is no circulation this far back in the dungeon and we sweat like pigs. Late in the afternoon, before the fighters and trainees are returned to the cages the servant women come with the evening meal.

That same one comes to me and whispers another memorized message: “The doctor has returned. He can get you out of Hyrete tonight and two Cydroids will take you to Koron if you wish it. Make the gorok memorize your reply if you can give it now.” This girl seems to possess an amazing aspect of plastic memory, something the Cydroids did to her, more than likely.

After an initial surge of hope from the Cydroid’s message I look around at my ‘family’; at the poor dikfols who can’t even speak or make themselves understood and are about to be butchered in the arena in less than two days. What sort of example would I give by sneaking off to save my own hide and leaving them to face the madness alone? I remember telling doctor Echinoza that I would die a violent death here. Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy of sorts, but certainly it is one I can not now avoid.

However difficult the choice my answer is predictable. I say to the gorok, “Listen carefully and memorize this: ‘My answer is no. I stay with my people. Thank you again for all your efforts on my behalf. I have one question: Do you have news of Deirdre my friend on Koron.’ Can you repeat that girl? She repeats it word for word and I send her away. I great wave of relief comes over me now. It feels good to be able to determine your own fate.

In the dark, after everyone is more or less settled for the night I hear a rustle in the cages. The sound comes nearer and nearer to where I sit, shackled to the bars.

“Sir! Can you hear me?” The voice is of an older fighter.

“Yes,” I reply in the darkness facing the general direction of the question. “What you be wanting?”

“We know of the killing orgy. We all know you have chance to leave tonight but choose to stay with us, the gorok tell. Fight all the way with us. We certain now you be true. We all say we now listen to Teaching, remember Teaching, pass on to new ones each time they come. We continue Teaching until goddess rise again for us. We now say thank you for coming to us and we think, is difficult to know how, but think maybe we see you again soon. You come and bring back more Teaching, more power for goras.”

“Not goras!” I exclaim, not caring who hears it and takes exception. Nothing to lose here.

“Never again we be goras. Now we be ahya! Always! Forever! Together we be ahya! Say it low together. This is my last mantra, my last Teaching. Remember you all be ahya! Let men say ‘gora’ but you must translate that as ahya in your mind each time to break the evil spell. Practice self-empowerment, always. That is our greatest weapon, ahyas.”

End blog post #105

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

 

 

 

 

 

The Self-Destruct Button

          [thoughts in the night, by Sha’Tara]

Oh hell! I  cried out loud to no one, in my small basement apartment and long after darkness had fallen accompanied by persistent clouds that dutifully hid moon and stars.

At least the orangy street lamp is working, casting a pale glow upon wet pavement and small pools. It’s the normal for this place, at this time of year – but it’s not what made me cry out.

What did make me cry out? A feeling, or a series of feelings feeding upon each other.

What sort of feeling/feelings? The sort you’re not supposed to have. The ones that want to probe the darkness and expose its lurid underbelly. The ones not politically correct. The ones that, upon reeling themselves back into the mind say, ah, screw it – everything is going to hell and none of it is fixable.

Let me explain myself to myself, and you can listen in. There is no philosophy grand enough to turn a people away from their fixation with the auto-destruct button once pointed in that direction, and let me tell you this: man’s current leadership has mastered the art of pointing: it’s called propaganda, only people call it news.

People are running, laughing, screaming, cursing, waving flags, cheering and booing their corrupt, psychopathic, perverted, misogynist, racist, elitist presidential and prime ministerial fodder to their destruction. They’re ready to maul and kill anyone who would stand in the way of their choice and they will most certainly destroy their living environment just to get to mash that shiny red button clearly marked “Self Destruct.”   

I took a break, it lasted a wee bit longer than anticipated, twenty four hours, in fact, but you never know with breaks, and now it’s over.

My feelings aren’t quite as raw as last night’s but I have no trouble getting them back. The world I’ve become aware of guarantees that.

 They say, and it’s a truism, that we are born to die. I’ve always been aware of that, the one thing we know for sure isn’t fake news. Our body gives us so many years to play at being alive then it conks out, or peters out…

 Thing is, unless we’re suicidal we don’t have much control over the “when” of death. That means I can’t just decide, today, to call it quits, to say ‘enough is enough’ and walk away. I mean I could, it’s called losing interest in everything, but I don’t think I’m made that way. The awake mind is a curious thing, a questing thing, the puzzle solver, the riddle master. For every answer it will throw up a dozen more questions and the rabbit hole only gets deeper.  

 To the question then, why are people in general so eager to test the apocalypse switch? Why the general group think to end it all? Just to see the fireworks? Or, as some claim, is it that at the heart of every Earthian is the false hope, belief, or faith, that it only happens to the other and “I” will remain alive to watch the horror show from the comfort of my Lazy-boy chair or leaning on the railing of the patio of my friend’s 8th floor apartment?

 “Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” Could it be that the vast majority of Earthians,  believers or not, actually ascribe to this patently false biblical claim? Could this false reality exist as a necessary part of the programming?

I – Don’t – Know! I don’t have an answer to that one.

 But that takes me back to my desire to scream. Personally, I don’t want to see, or experience, any sort of apocalypse. It’s a truly dumb idea. Do you want to participate in one? Do you believe the fairy tale that “you” can survive it? If you did, what would be the point? Alone on a devastated world, what sort of end could you imagine for yourself in the aftermath? Or are you of those benighted who believe some god is going to see to it personally that you are spared the gruesome aspects and install you on your own private cloud space to watch the horror show and “REJOICE!” even at the bloodbath put on for your own entertainment?

          I believe we, as relatively intelligent creatures, can not only switch from apocalyptic thinking but change the world to become an unrecognizable reality: literally a paradise. People who think like this are usually called naïve, utopians, dreamers. Again, the group think is, “can’t happen so forget it.”  The same individuals who believe in survival also believe an apocalypse is inevitable and often do all in their power to bring it about. 

What does that say about that sort of thinking? What do you call someone desperate to survive, to live as long as physically possible, yet nurturing apocalyptic thinking, of total decimation of a world? Doublethink or cognitive dissonance? Either way, not logical.

Could we have a utopia on Earth? Of course. Not only that but bringing about a utopia is a much easier task than bringing about an apocalypse. Apocalypses are costly, complex, messy, bloody and ultimately pointless affairs. All a utopia needs is for individuals, of their own free will, to become compassionate then let compassion demonstrate the way out of all the violence, the greed, the lust, the infamy, the corruption, the innate selfishness that are now growing together like dark storm clouds to pave the way for the apocalypse, for the end.

It’s simple enough, too simple maybe. 

and… PS, not a great piece of writing but food for thought, perhaps? 

         

         

Unapologetically Yours

(dotting some i’s and crossing some tees – Sha’Tara)

At the risk of sounding pedant, I’ll start with, “who am I?”  OK, we’ve all heard the question, and probably all asked it of ourselves at some point or other in life. It’s a valid question, though, because if we cannot definitely answer it, we’ve got a lot of mind processing to do.

I’m going to answer that question because it’s time. I am all those awarenesses, those beliefs, those thoughts, those observations, those acceptances and rejections, those likes and dislikes, successes and failures, those highs and lows, that surround me, fill me or haunt me. That is what defines me, what I am: no apologies.

Once I was an ardent Christian. I believed IN God and all I wanted to do was serve God. Thus I focused my young life and that came to naught, through no fault of mine. I concluded God didn’t need me, or want me, therefore I didn’t need him and certainly didn’t want him. At that time of my life – pre-and early puberty – I desperately needed someone I could trust. I still believe (know) that God exists but as I learned more history of his church and his other religions, I no longer want any of that in my life: no apologies.

From interactions with non-Earth beings, three in particular whom I call “The Teachers” (YLea, El Issa and Phaelon) I gained understanding and daring, I might say, beyond the norm. Rescued by those same people (the Altarians) from death, I concluded they were worth listening to. They never said how, or why they came to my rescue in particular. Perhaps they knew more about me than I did. They did ask me to change my life and lifestyle and they knew that I already knew what costs would ensue. I had, after all, a good grounding in Catholic catechism, the gospel teachings, and an above average knowledge of biblical scriptures. The costs of “discipleship” clearly enumerated by Jesus and the ancient prophets would be my legacy as I followed Altarian philosophy. The losses I entailed were real. No apologies for stating facts.

For a time, when personal hubris was riding much higher than it is today, I thought I had become some sort of mystic. Then I realized that if mystic was synonymous with misfit, I was probably right and it certainly was nothing to feel proud of. The realization gradually toned me down. Yes I experienced powerful visions and yes I was open to channeling and other esoteric things but when I refused to use such to titillate or entertain (or write best sellers), that was the end of that. No apologies to disappointed would-be followers. I walk alone.

Once again, it’s poppy time in the West. We have to “remember” the “fallen” as heroes. It would not do to call them what they were, and continue to be: mass murderers. What’s the difference between a soldier (mercenary) and a murderer? One is a sort of institutional hero for killing “enemies” in step with orders from above. The other is considered a danger to society because s/he kills without orders, hence too much of a wild card. The killing is OK but it has to be sanctioned by the powers that be or it becomes a crime. I’ve always been innately anti-war and anti-killing. I’ve found a better way to express my own humanity; a way guaranteed to end all warring conflicts on this benighted world. That is why that way will never be followed: it would end gratuitous violence. Stupid is as stupid does, my mama always said. (Forest Gump). There are no soldiers in my world, only killers, some to obey, others to make money. I’m not claiming I don’t have enemies but they too are manufactured by consent. No apologies for that statement.

Why do people act in such anti-life ways? Why the lust for violence? Why can’t man end his racism, misogyny, pedophilia, exploitation, oppression, suppression, rape, enslavement and murder? Why does greed rule and ruin the world? No, not just today. Ancient proverbs state that money is the root of all evil, so there were other times when money (gold!) ruled the known world and did to it what our greed is doing to ours.

What’s wrong with people? I’ll tell you, but don’t think you can believe it – you won’t be allowed. You are a programmed entity. Your “soul” is an implant by which you are programmed and directed. If you could freely reason the insanity of all the evil you do so “naturally” on a daily basis, you wouldn’t do it – you couldn’t. But you do it and you find it so easy to justify it afterwards. That’s programming, and it didn’t come out of the swamps your Darwinist-evolutionists insist you arose from. It came from those who invented mankind. No apologies for stating this either. This blatant fact will come out when the programming is broken, not before.  

When I got thoroughly fed up with earth I attempted to escape through suicide. I was rescued by non-Earth entities, and given that one chance to change my life. There would not be another chance, I knew. When I came out of that “amazing” experience and realized this second chance would manifest on Earth, in the same place I was in already, I rebelled at first. Then I decided to take my first step on the path of personal change and self empowerment. Was it 40 years ago already, or was it yesterday? It feels like I’ve only just begun. Fortunately for me, there is all of eternity to live through and infinity to search out as I develop this ever-new me, new self, in dauntless self-awareness and eagerness to learn more, to change with each new lesson.  This is my reality and… no apologies.

Oh yes, that solution to all of your social problems of injustice, of corruption, of gratuitous violence and greed. Although I know no one will have the fortitude to accept the truth of it and put it in personal practice – imagine the price to be paid – it needs stating: compassion. That’s right, that’s it, and that’s all.

You can invent all the solutions you want to all of your problems and you will notice that they will morph endlessly into other, and bigger, problems. You can bury them with legalese and political correctness, self-help studies and philanthropic efforts and they will rise up again and again. You will despair at your helplessness, blame elites, rulers, CEO’s, bankers, other classes, races, genders, even divinities but nothing doing. The evil your ancestors did, you are doing. Your future generations will generate more of the same. Choose instead to become a compassionate person. Don’t question it, make no excuses. Compassion is the final act. It will put “paid” to your society’s grossest  sins. Guaranteed. No apologies for that claim.

Now I can go to another peaceful sleep, perhaps to dream, perhaps to not wake up in this reality. It’s all the same to me.  

How I got from There to Here-part 2

 

[getting it together    ~burning woman~    by Sha’Tara]

From the last post on this topic:

“The frightened child had grown into an adult. I had learned to bluster my way into the adult world even if I felt I were an alien or something weird. I hid my real thoughts and feelings and expressed only those I thought would make me seem normal and acceptable. I used ideas and words from books, magazines, the radio, songs, sermons, political speeches, and that seemed to satisfy people even though it polarized them. For a time I was a complete stranger to myself but at least I had some peace and a pretense of belonging and power.”

So this was the time when marriage, kids, responsibilities and full time employment ganged up on me as I plunged headlong into environmental and social activism and into politics. Obviously a perfect condition to bring in mental implosion. Certainly I learned much in those crazy years and the outworking of central power patterns began to make a bit of sense but I overloaded on the smorgasbord.

It was “too much of nothing”* The peace I knew was fake. The belonging I felt was from those who wanted to use me, or my ideas, or my mouth. The power was the same that all revolutionary leaders use and I saw the pointlessness of using it yet knew of no other source. It took me ten years to implode in which time I lost everything that meant anything to me ending up without home or family or real friends along with a seriously deteriorating health, and I was only thirty four. I could barely walk or get in a vehicle and drive. What had been diagnosed as collapsing disks in my late teens had worsened and I was looking at a wheelchair condition.

I reached the edge of the abyss and looked down the black hole but it no longer scared me. I decided enough was enough and planned my quiet exit. The fateful day came but things did not go as intended. There was an “intervention” which at the time, being still a believer, I attributed to God. I was “miraculously” healed of my symptoms and given some very strict directions on how I should proceed with the rest of my life. There were conditions, not that the healing wasn’t real but it would not “take” if I did not change my entire perception of what one’s life is for; what it’s all about.

“We’re not going to ask you to change your world, just your own nature. Will you agree to that? Will you agree to trust us?”

I had no idea what that “trust” would entail but at that moment I felt there was nothing left to lose so I agreed. I made the commitment to change. Christianity calls it being born again and that’s what I called it except that this wasn’t to be a ritual, it was to be a tough and often harsh time of life change. Every new idea about myself I came up with I had to put to the test. Those who watched over me at that time I dubbed “the Teachers” and nothing would get past them. I still did some ghastly stupid mistakes and they had to save my life a couple more times but I meant to change and they knew it better than me.

Let me introduce, in name only, my three life savers and changers: YLea, El Issa and Phaelon. They never said why I was the recipient of their attentions, only that I should pay close attention for their time would eventually be up and they stayed around at great risk to themselves. I wouldn’t understand that until years later when I came to figure out the workings of the “Powers” in this universe.

As I worked through their many teachings I discovered how we are programmed and so easily brainwashed. I went through the process of arguing for the shutting down of my “soul implant” with a representative of the Powers and achieved the neutralizing of it. Sounds like la-la land doesn’t it? Well, much more could be accomplished on this world if such information was taken at face value. The reason nothing, and I mean nothing, ever gets resolved here is because of that programming implant. It’s there, in everyone, whether one believes it or not: not knowing a thing does not make that thing unreal. Many, oh so many, however, believe the programming that their “soul” is their very essence, and so it is for it’s a matter of belief and practice. That keeps the wheel of fate, or karma, turning.

Once the implant was neutralized and the tendency to repeat bad performance was under control of my own mind I saw things I had never understood. Three things I’ve gone on about a lot came up for review: faith, hope, love. After much analysis and testing I unilaterally rejected all three as having any sort of value to me. They belonged to the Powers, their systems of oppression and of course to the Earthian cooperative called civilization, as did their opposites: faithlessness, hopelessness and hate. I realized that if I held on to the three positives I’d have to remain enslaved to the three negatives. Oh the joys of living in duality.

Many things were explained to me, or became obvious through tests and trials. False morality could be replaced with living a compassionate life. That took years to understand because compassion can only be understood by living it. It cannot be taught. To live compassion it was obvious that I would have to become detached from all the things that were of convenience, importance or comfort to me – they could no longer matter. “When none of it matters it will all be yours.” said YLea. Make no mistake I’m still struggling with that after almost forty years of experimenting.

I learned the necessity of living the self empowered life. Ultimately every decision I made for or in my life had to come from me and only me. Nothing anyone else offered or proposed could I accept at face value (except the Teachers, but after their twenty year “tour of duty” with me they were gone and I was truly alone. Everything had to be weighed on a personal scale and every decision was signed in blood, i.e., I had to put my life on the line – and I continue to do this.

No more games, no more pretense, no more Earthian shenanigans. No more religions, politics or even allowing myself to think that money could ever solve any problem. No more social contracts. I had become a Watcher and an avatar of compassion. I had broken free of the programming of social conditioning. No more gregariousness or attraction to the herd. I had become one and although my new nature made me inclusive in terms of outreach to others, I was now an exclusive individual, a kind of spiritual lone rider or knight errant.

Why is reaching such a condition so important? I’ll tell you straight: the Earthian social condition is corrupt to the core. It is led by corruption and it feeds on corruption. It is endemic to the entire complex called civilization and it has no cure. Any individual so motivated can find an individual cure for her/himself but that comes at the extreme price of mental and spiritual independence from all that is of Earthian provenance and systems including independence from any Power, God or Goddess recognized or worshiped by any collective.

That is how I got from there to here and that is how I will go from here.
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Too Much of Nothing
Bob Dylan (1967) – The Basement Tapes

Too much of nothing
Can make a man ill at ease
One man’s temper might rise
While another man’s temper might freeze
In the day of confession
We cannot.

(More at MetroLyrics)