Category Archives: Visions

A long way from home yet never far away

I’ve been feeling a little bit guilty about not interacting more on this here blogging thing. I’m getting questions and reminders and I’m thinking, OK, time to share a few thoughts and close that up with a story that, to me at least, sums up my thoughts on the whole thing rather neatly. I won’t tell whether I believe the story and I know I’ve posted it before but for those who care, yes there are a few changes-the beauty of owning your own piece of writing. Doesn’t say what you want it to say? Fine, just delete something, write something else into it.

Why haven’t I been writing? Two simple reasons: one, the US presidential election; two, the scamdemic, both of which are exercises in stupidity, ignorance and of course, self-aggrandizement. Apart from the truism, ‘if you would know the truth, follow the money’ there’s the one for the common peon: ‘we’re right and because we’re right, they are wrong’.  Another way of putting it is ‘scientism.’

What intelligence wants to argue with, let alone against that?

Now the story.

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It was a hot and dry day up near the end of the canyon when my old half-ton blew its rear driver side tire.  Fortunately I was easing the thing as the going had been mostly uphill, something the old crankcase didn’t like much, so after a bit of swerving to gain control, I was able to pull up beside the road, on a dry patch of gravel. 

I got out to assess my situation.  I had no food and no drinking water – hadn’t thought of that since I was only going a couple of hundred miles.  An inaccessible half mile below me the river glistened mockingly in the noon day sun.  All around was dead silence except for a few crickets and heat waves made everything shimmer.  The scent of scrub pine and sage brush filled the air and under almost any other condition that would have been enough to give me complete pleasure.   At that moment I failed to appreciate the offering.

There wasn’t much traffic in those days, as the conditions of the highway were still quite primitive so I wasn’t expecting help anytime soon.  I went to the back and looked with some apprehension at the dried cake of mud that hid the spare hanging under the box.  I found a rusty tire iron behind the torn seat, some cracked gloves and a short carpenter’s pry bar and went to work loosening and dropping the spare.

After some time it came loose and I was able to slide the lifter chain off and drag the spare out.  Sure enough, it was as flat as flat can be.  Who thinks of making sure spares are kept up?  Wouldn’t have mattered anyway, I couldn’t find any sort of jack and looking up or down the surrounding countryside quickly told me that I wouldn’t find anything resembling a suitable lever to lift the truck: plenty of large rocks to use as fulcrums and supports but no pole.

Well, what to do?  I scanned both sides of the road for any sort of habitation and didn’t see anything.  Only one thing left to do: start walking.  I knew there was nothing behind me, so I decided it was best to head north, into the unknown.  At least this way there would exist the possibility of some sort of home or homestead or a road upkeep yard showing up.  Being eighteen and having been raised on a northern homestead, I already had the survivor mentality and a bit of philosophy to match.  The one thing I was sure of, I would never give in to the problem.  I ‘knew’ by reasoning based on certain experiences that life entails problems, that problems require solutions and that these solutions are always available, one way or the other, though none of that alters reality. 

As I trudged along I became very thirsty.  The river surface down below continued to mock me, so I looked for berries but the only thing resembling berries were bunches of dangling blue elderberries.  Bird feed at best and not ripe in any case; too early in the season for anything else.  As I walked on uphill, each curve showing more endless climb, my feet began to throb in the heavy work boots so I stopped by a rounded rock to sit and loosen the laces.  A dull throbbing in my head made me want to stretch out by the side of the road and sleep – which is exactly what I did.  I didn’t feel like walking any longer. 

That I lay in dusty sand would not matter much to my dirty white tee shirt, my tattered greasy blue jeans nor to my over-length hair which was several days in need of a serious wash and many weeks in need of cutting.  At least there were no flies and sleep came easy despite the choking heat. 

That’s when I had the dream that would puzzle, haunt, thrill and bother me for the rest of my life.  How could a dream manifest in reality?  How could events in a dream become events in “real life” which changed not only my mind, but my physical reality as well?  These were, and remain, unanswerable questions.   So let me recap the events instead of getting into the mind-twisting impossibilities remembering always brings up.

I had just fallen asleep (at least it seemed so) when someone called my name and said, “Hey Levi, get up.  It’s time to go.”  The name Levi was given to me as a joke after I was stupid enough the mention that I’d wanted to be a priest, and there happened to be a defrocked Bible thumper in our logging crew who yelled, “Levi!”  My real name is Logan Learned – which was also quite entertaining in my school years: “Hey, what have you Learned today?”  Laughter.  But now, Levi?  I had to ask why.  Matt, the ex-Bible guy said, “Don’t you know about Levi in the Old testament?  The priesthood of the Levites? 

“ ‘Fraid not, never read the Old Testament.  Only know the Catholic catechism and some bits and pieces of the gospels.”

Instead of commenting further, he just laughed and the rest joined in, including me.  Nothing wrong with Levi, so I became Levi the Levite.  So now I was, in a sense, a priest.  I’m sure my Catholic confessors would not have taken it so lightly, but that didn’t matter to me, I hadn’t been to church in several years and had no intention of ever returning.  Bad memories best left behind, along with my upbringing.  The more baggage you drag along with you, the more your life is stifled and I had too much to live for to let that happen. 

I opened my eyes and I wasn’t dreaming.  An obviously native man was standing over me, offering me his hand.  I took it and he held me firmly as I stood up.  He handed me a bottle of cold water which I gladly took.  Half was gone before I felt sated and thought that maybe that was all the water he had.  He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Lots of water here Levi.  Lots.  Don’t you worry about that.”

“You know my logger’s nickname, how come?”

“It’s the name you go by, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay then.  Mine is Jack.”

“Okay, fine.  Thanks for the water, I was parched.”

“Yeah, I know.  Maybe we should walk back to your truck now, or do you need some food first?”

Out of a growing sense of curiosity I looked around.  Except for “Jack” nothing had changed.  The sun hadn’t even moved; the heat was just as intense and I saw no food, not did “Jack” carry any kind of pack.  He wasn’t even holding the water bottle anymore.

“I could use some food, Jack, if you have something without meat or fish – I’m vegetarian and I get sick on meat or fish.”

From nowhere he produced a fresh sandwich, loaded with vegetables and cheese.  I took it with thanks and ate it in four bites.  It tasted like more and sure enough, “Jack” produced another one, just as delicious. 

“OK, I’m really curious now Jack.  Where did this food come from?” 

“People always ask these same small questions.  Where do you think it comes from?”

“I have no idea, that’s why I asked.”

“Ever heard of the continuum, Levi?”

“The what?”

“The continuum.  You know, what your religions call infinity?  What some people call heaven?  If you’d read the Bible you would know that the Hebrew God fed them what is called “manna from heaven” while they lived in the desert.  Connect with your nickname and look into your memories, Levi, third son of Jacob, founder of the Levite tribe.  Can you see anything there?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, Jack.  Are you telling me that you pulled that water and food out of nothing, like God dropping food from heaven on the Hebrews?”

“Actually at this point we should refer to them as “Israelites” rather than Hebrews.  But yes, why not?  But not “out of nothing” as you say.  Out of another reality.  We’re always part of the continuum and it’s what feeds the material order.  Without this bleed through of energy, these worlds could not exist.  All it takes is for an intelligent mind to image or invent material/physical reality from an endless supply of free energy we call the continuum.  It’s really very simple if you think about it.”

“Well Jack, I am thinking about it and the more I think about it, the less sense it makes to me.  This is too much like fantasy; science fiction, a fairy tale.  If it was that easy everybody would be doing it; everybody would have her or his way and you know what?  It would spell utter chaos, that’s what.”

“They realized this long ago when intelligent beings discovered the ability of manifestation and problems began immediately.  So “they” – the ones who discovered this ability – decided to put a block on manifestation.  Only one would be allowed to manifest reality, that was their solution.  Basically “they” created the concept of “God” and through the eons the concept remained.  “God” gets to decide what is, what isn’t; when it begins; when it ends and the reasons are also God’s reasons, no one else.  At least that’s the theory.”

“Is God accountable to no one then?”

“Oh yes, God is accountable, but only to his peers; to the “they” who started it all.  And also, God isn’t always the same person on the divine throne.  “They” have periodic elections and take turns running things.  Hence why you discover “bumps” in the process of creation and material expansion or destruction.”

“This is very interesting Jack, but how do you know all of this for a fact?”

“I go by what works, see?  You and I, we’re the same with one specific difference: I’m from the other side of the continuum, you’re on this side.  I was on this side long ago, but I, shall we say, translated to the other side gradually, over many incarnation.  It began with a glimpse of the continuum, what you might call a near death experience.  Only it wasn’t “near” but total.  That was my first awareness of how much freedom there is in living without a body.  After being given a chance to look around, someone simply sent me back.  I had fallen and broken my neck.  They fixed me up, good as new and I was left with a permanent question mark that became a quest.  I would find this place and live there.”

“Then there should be literally billions of people like you out here now!”

“Not really.  You have to understand how the thing works if you want to, say, commute from the outside to the inside – from the wholly non-material to the material.  After my return I began to earnestly study shamanism, witchcraft, the concepts hinted at by every established religion on this world.  I contemplated anything to do with the so-called after-life.  I discovered that only those who were able to pass through with their material bodies were said to be empowered to return and manifest in the physical.  So I cheated: I found the trick that allowed me to slip out of this realm into the other with my material body.  Oh, it was immediately changed, of course, but it wasn’t killed – there’s no termination over there, see?  Once you’re in, you’re in.  Then it’s up to you to make it work.  Luckily for me, bodies don’t need to be fed or even exercised over there.  They are what you make them to be and they remain that way until you change them.  You couldn’t imagine the different “things” I’ve been since I translated.”

“Time out, Jack, hey?  I can’t absorb all this stuff.  Besides, I’m still not convinced you are what you claim to be.  You could be an illusionist; some sort of con artist…”

“Of course, I could be.  I never asked you to trust me, did I?  But think on this, see if it rings a bell or two:  ‘You were thirsty and I gave you water to drink; you were hungry and I fed you.’”

“Oh! …  You don’t look like him.”

“Like who, Levi Logan Learned?”

“You know who I mean… I am really confused now.”

“Good.  It’s good to be confused on materiality – it prevents dogmatism which is astigmatism of the soul – a blurring which prevents clear understanding and appreciation of what is.”

“OK, so there is a God? Or is that only your theory about the “ruler” of materiality? Answer me that!”

“I can’t answer the God question simply because no matter how it is answered it will satisfy no one. Your people are too dogmatic to allow free information to flow through their minds unimpeded by belief systems, you see. Even you, not knowing whether to believe or not to believe; not knowing if you’re an atheist, a theist or anti-theist, won’t let the God question flow unchallenged. For you it’s just too big a question fraught with too much emotion to be allowed its freedom to answer itself.

“Now listen to this. “There is a God” is the truism that proves there is no such a being as God. God, as religion preaches and teaches, is categorically impossible. But according to all I have seen, studied, contemplated and worked with, there is a “ruler” who guides material reality, not always for the best. It’s not God, of course, but it ACTS as if it were, and appears as God to less-understanding entities. It is “all powerful” in that it can prevent almost anyone, certainly anyone without the necessary qualifications, from participating in manifestation. Already explained why that must be.

“Unfortunately, power begets power and as intelligence expanded in the “created” realms, some of these individual intelligences sought power. Since you can only express power by dictating to others, usually of lesser minds, these intelligences became totalitarian in nature and “evil” was born in, and bred from them, oozing right down to your own tin-pot rulers and dictators, right down to your school yard bully; down to your racist, misogynist, bigoted, greedy, planet-eating sociopath corporate manager or banker. As you know money is a major means of gaining power. It allows the few to rip power from the many. In your future, Levi, you will see a relatively few bureaucrats tied in with also relatively few “billiocrats” to change the pattern of money into a single global power. You will in effect see the effort made by these billiocrats to establish their goal of one world economy ruled by one world government, and that won’t be the end of it, but the beginning. Then will come the conquest of space; endless expansion and endless wars to conquer and expand. The nature of greed, friend.

“Do you get the picture, Levi?”

“Huh… yes, I’m sure that I get it – it’s not a subtle point you are making. But now, where does that leave me?”

“Exactly where you are, or as you were if you choose to ignore this unexpected interference in your rather uneventful System-controlled life. But don’t you have a truck to drive up the road another hundred miles or so?”

Out of habit I struck my forehead with my right hand. “Oh yes, the truck. Well, it’s down the road about a half-hour’s walk. Or maybe you can transport us there and fix it for me?”

“Would you like me to do that?”

“Sure, why not?”

And I thought to myself, well, that ought to be a good one. What happens next?

That’s when I woke up. I mean I really woke up. I could feel the heat, the stink of my sweat, feel the swelling of my feet in my boots. Overhead the sun was still blazing at its zenith as if no time had passed. I did notice a couple of things that were different. I wasn’t thirsty nor hungry and I felt, well, completely blissful. And then I noticed that my truck was parked just below me, without a flat, apparently ready to go on. I shook my head and let the dizziness pass before I stood up and took another good look around. No Jack. Just the same empty countryside and the river surface reflecting silver from the bottom of a very deep, dark canyon.

Being “child of the land” as they say, I looked around carefully for tracks in the sandy soil – there were only mine which indicated the point where I sat down, then laid down. Nothing had changed and everything had. And the only witness I had that “Jack” had been there was my old pickup with four healthy tires and except for the cracking of cooling dissimilar metals rubbing angrily against each other under the hood, it wasn’t saying a word. Well, no word except the sounds indicating that, since the engine was still cooling, little or no time had passed since I’d pulled over with a flat tire.

I’ll tell you, from this experience, there are things you can’t look back from, only forward. I made it to Cache Creek, where the main highway splits, the 97 going north to Prince George, and the #1 Trans Canada highway heading east for more than 3000 miles, crossing the expanse of Canada. Symbolically this was also where my life would change direction. I had to make a choice here: continue my logger’s or construction labourer’s vagabond life that was fun but not terribly fulfilling, or get serious about life.

Well, there were the two roads beckoning away from, always away from, and suddenly I felt tired of running away. I booked into a motel for the night, avoiding the bar and a couple of very pretty girls watching me bring my pack in my room and the next morning before the sun rose I was turned around and heading back to the coast, and the university. I felt an insatiable hunger for more knowledge that would not materialize from jumping across the mountains, work camp to work camp until too old to do much more than working security detail on construction yards. My mind had taken control and I realized I didn’t half mind it.

Thanks, Jack.

What it means to Believe

[thoughts from  ~burning woman~ …]

For those who have, or want to take, the time to read. I’m not sure the title is appropriate but here’s the story anyway.

I remember much of what I’ve been told over the years, even those things I came across I couldn’t as yet understand. Much was a jumble of contradictions but isn’t Earthian life a barrage of contradictions? Notice I leave nature out of this argument. Natural or non-people life exists in its created/evolved/adapted state (take your pick on that) accepting it, trusting it and using it to fulfill awareness. Unlike with my observations of Earthian life I see no conflict there.

Earthians (the people, man, homo sapiens, whatever label we give ourselves – again take your pick) need to constantly invent pseudo-realities, each one built upon another but each one further from sky, land and water; from the natural order we should be existing under. Let me qualify that by saying it is not our problem, per se. It is “how” we arrive at this perceived need. Maybe I can explain with this story.

Years ago I had a vision. A “god” showed me what he saw in me. He said to me, “You are of us – specifically, you are mine, though you do not at this time remember why that is, nor how it came about. The time has come that I must open your mind to another reality – beyond that of earth, beyond that of your fellow-man. I am going to give you the power, the strength and the understanding to be a bridge between realities. In time it will kill you but it won’t destroy you – you will survive for you are made of god-stuff. After you re-learn to walk between worlds in detachment and compassion you will form a bridge between two worlds: that of earth and that of man for make no mistake, these exist as two distinct dimensions however cleverly that truth is hidden.” (…to paraphrase Kipling here, O man is man and earth is earth and never the twain shall meet…)

“This bridging will seem a rather foolish and pointless thing to do because few of the rank and file will become aware of the existence of this thing. Fewer will understand and fewer yet will be changed by it. But you will know, and knowing, you will complete your labour. When it is done, and you have died from so much expenditure of energy, from abuse, exposure and time, I will give you a new life. You have been tested and you will not fail because you can no longer fail yourself. Use the information that is in your mind: think, speak and act accordingly. There is no need for more.”

And so, in the vision, I became this living bridge. Few indeed could understand the meaning. Predictably many of the ruling classes who knew of this “bridge” felt threatened by this presence. The consensus was that I posed a danger to the established order and  should be destroyed. So I was killed, my bridge-body cast down into emptiness. That should have been the end of the story. It wasn’t.

I reawakened in another place, another reality. My pain eased then left me. Only memories of what I’d tried to do remained; the sorrow that I could not make “them” understand. Now that hourglass’ sand had run down. I could not go back, certainly not in time to prevent a great tribulation from devastating man’s earth. In a dream state, I heard the cries and the screams of a world that was burning. I felt the hot breath of billions of prayers passing through my mind – but they had no substance and could not be focused. We the “Outsiders” (for now I was with my own people again) could only feel great sorrow; we could not reach back to prevent, nor heal. Because man’s spiritual reality was so dimmed, there was no return passage: the heart-rending prayers had no power to take us back to them. Had we done so of our own will, at the sight of us they would have forgotten both their prayers and their immediate pain. They would have blamed us for their troubles and would have killed us again.

I have pondered that vision over the years. Being a “bridge” can have many meanings. Let me talk a bit about “faith” for that concept properly understood is itself meant to be a bridge between worlds as those who remain religious or have passed through that stage should well know.

Recently I found myself, in my avatar mind, interacting with individuals who believe in their God; who pray to that God, and yet seem woefully lacking in the kind of power that

would help them overcome the tricks, traps and ruses of the Matrix complex. These people exist within the same maze as other Earthians, those who believe in other gods, goddesses or man-made powers, those who don’t, those who could care less: the selfish, the greedy, the ignorant, the narcissists. The God people remain helpless to break out and reach for that desperately needed fresh air of above/beyond-earth reality. They are

confused by many things, fearful, doubtful or unaware of the terrible responsibility they accrue when they claim to believe but do not live the life of obedience that demonstrates the truth of that path. They cover over this instability with verbal pronunciations of faith and attempts at imposing their religions upon others through subterfuge; by usurping

the democratic political process and spending huge monetary resources on ostentatious infrastructure. Failing that, as we see happening, they resort to overt violence and war. There is little else to show for all that religious effort.

So I found myself in an in-between position, between my life as an aspiring avatar (no faith in anyone but self) and God’s path for his followers or faithful. In these exchanges, I realized that being an avatar allows me to “obey” my detached reality while providing insight to other observers. I realized that if I am interacting with an individual who prays to God, hence must have faith in God, my task is to look into that one’s faith to see why it does not produce the fruit inherent to the basic tenets of that faith. Whether you are an avatar, or you are a disciple of Christ or believe in God in some way, the path is similar if you are fully aware of this one fact: that it demands total detachment from the things of earth (the System and its fruits) and living in a constant state of self-sacrifice. You are in the world but not of the world and you can never, ever, be confused as to what it means to live thus.

Believing in God when you live on earth and you are Earthian could be a good thing if that is lived correctly, i.e.,in humility and compassion. What I see, why Earthian faith, though widespread shows so little fruit, or I should say, produces so much bad fruit, is because people have used a book, the Bible (or Koran or any other “holy” book of any state sanctioned, incorporated religion) and relied on non-spiritual teachers and interpreters to anthropomorphize the ancient, original creator God into a modern travesty of a man-made Santa Claus who gives gifts only to those who can afford to buy them for themselves.

The kind of “faith” I would talk about from experience isn’t religion, science, or a product of evolution. Spiritual faith, to have meaning, must rely upon a holistic and whole aspect of man in relationship with spirit. In my earlier interactions with spirit or transcendent divinity, and in my readings about such, my spirit awareness has always been a call to compassion through self-sacrifice. That is the basis of any faith in any “real” divine entity. That is the only “proof” any faith-based life can give to the world. The believer or disciple’s life is the proof, positive or negative, that God not only exists, but is truly a good, loving, compassionate deity. The believer is called but to one thing: to make it so as if it was God itself in thought, word and deed. The believer is by definition the mirror image of her/his chosen divinity. When the world looks for some proof of God’s existence it isn’t in nature but in the self proclaimed exceptionalism of that God’s followers. Try as one might there is no other proof for God’s existence.

True faith has no use for wishful thinkers, deal-makers, “gimme-gimme’s” and much less for controlling power-wielders and greedy oppressors or liars. A man-made god is always conned, being but an idol, not so the intent of faith in a real divinity. Whatever the

shenanigans of organized religion to create a path to an imaginary god that by-passes volitional self-sacrifice, it’s fiction. The faith-based path to faith-based divinity and to wherever that may lead is one of selflessness, of self-sacrifice, of total abandonment to that divinity’s will. And where does that lead? To insane inner joy even while walking through a hell of sorrow.

So, what is that “will?” The funny thing about God’s will is that it cannot, ever, be found at the beginning of one’s walk. One has to “give in” and take the journey without ever looking back. One must turn from selfishness to servant-hood before any understanding can

manifest in the mind. I know this because I’ve passed through that stage. I know how it works and I know that organized religion’s sole purpose is to guarantee that no one will ever get it. Nothing is more dangerous to the organization than the one who has discovered how to synchronize one’s will with that of a faith-based divine will. Once

that is grasped, there is no need for religion anymore. Obedience is all that matters and that is the key to self-empowerment.

Do you see what I have done? I’ve logically concluded that this faith-based divinity can be none other than myself. I made a covenant with myself to think a certain way, to reason and live in such a way. Then I placed myself on the altar in obedience to my life choice.

This is where the vast majority of Earthian sheeple bleat their frustration, their anger, their rejection. Sheep, by nature, obey the herd instinct. Sheeple are bound by groupthink. There’s nary an independent mind among them and that one is always on the brink of being discovered and eliminated as a threat to the herd. Religions serve the herd. Faith serves only the individual.

By dropping the now-utterly useless God label and trusting in one’s self to make all life and death decisions, that is what self-empowerment means. One thing I’m sure of, it will not lead me to that never-never land the sheeple call heaven. For that I’m thankful. I’ve seen enough “heaven” here on earth to know I’ve had enough of it. But let me add this: I know, as a personal inner awareness, that I am an infinite being with infinite life behind and before me. My “home” is the cosmos and my “assurance of salvation” is the degree of compassion I express to myself and the world I exist within – however temporary the relationship.

Quote: An unconventional individual is never bound by conventional wisdom, tradition or belief system. (anonymous)

Quote: Milena lived in a culture that replicated itself endlessly but never gave birth to anything new. (Child Garden – Geoff Ryman)

 

 

Sorrow and Joy

[a poem by  ~burning woman~ ]

What do you look at
When you lie awake in the night
Eyes wide open watching
Tumbling clouds hiding stars and moon?
What keeps you awake, so restless?

I see Sorrow
Walking bent over
Along graffiti’d walls in some city street:
She wears a worn black coat
Broken shoes without socks
And hunger is eating her.

Her eyesight is failing,
With gnarled hands she touches
Doorways and stoops
Seeking a home to hide in,
Perhaps just a place to rest.

But though she is many,
For her there is no place
And she must wander on
To the end of her strength,
To the end of her reason.

She is so far away,
Why should you care?
Why lose precious sleep
Over such a pathetic vision?
What is she to you?

She is everything to me,
My sister, my twin, my heart.
We were separated at birth,
Rejecting her, they called me Joy!
I must recall her from her darkness.

Though we were destined
To live ever separate and apart
I will no longer allow this curse
To rule my life and ruin hers.
I will to share her fate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Come Find Me, Come!

[a poem by   ~burning woman~ ]

The wind howled in the night,
The long shadowed night.
It was the Chinook wind,
I had smelled it earlier
As clouds greyed and darkened,
Disappearing sun and moon.

An owl barked, hooted, laughed
Down in the gully’s copses
And I thought, I hear the owl
And it’s calling my name –
Only it wasn’t me he was calling,
It was a mate and I had no wings.

These two things I mention,
They happened a long time ago.
I wasn’t thinking of death then,
Not by a long shot. I was young,
Barely old enough to feel
That troubling sense in my heart
Which I learned was the call to love.

It is said around here (or was said)
That when the owl calls your name
Your number’s up-death is riding.
Well, I heard the owl again
Last night in the woods
Bordering the little Hope river.

My guess is, as it was long ago
That this short eared owl,
For that was the nature of his call
Was once again calling a mate,
Then I heard her laugh
Deeper in the foggy woods:
“Come and find me, Come!”

Like that they were gone.
The wind died down then
And the ever rain came again
And that is as it should be
Or so the Shaman told me:

When none of it matters to you,
Life or death or some in-between,
Then will choice wisdom find you
For all of it will then be yours,
Even the parts you do not want,
That is the life of the Avatar,
It is the gift of your owl soul.

You must understand now
It is you, it always was you,
The mate he was calling, seeking
And you always had the wings
Though you dared not believe.

He will call you again soon
Together you will depart
And neither will be heard again
For a long, long time.

Spread your wings, invite the wind
To fill those feathers, get ready,
Your long night of the soul
Is coming to its end. Soon
You will look down upon the trees
And you will see the forest.

Come find me! Come find me…
Come!

 

Stars in the Night Sky

(remembrances from   ~burning woman~ )

Have you ever wondered what “listening to the voices of the dead” and “hearing the music of the spheres” have in common?

When you look in the night sky, what do you see?  Stars?  Yes, mostly stars for only stars emit enough light to travel those quasi-unfathomable distances of space to twinkle in our little firmament.

What does that twinkling represent?  A sort of Morse code, yes?  The “spheres” talking to us, perhaps calling some of us back; reminding us that we are not utterly lost as we walk in weak finiteness on a dark non-star matter world that can only reflect a sun’s light.  For we are the star dancers, beings of eternal combustion, burning to give light, as did our ancient worlds of origin.

If you know yourself to be a star dancer, do you know the language; the music, from your starry worlds?  Do you remember any of it?  Do you know why you are here on this cold world in semi-darkness, the closest thing resembling your ancient home that tiny ball of fusion in this world’s sky?

Look back through your great remembrances and see the waves of migrations as your home worlds burned themselves out, leaving you orphaned, refugees scattering in the endless immensity of space.  Remember how you closed yourselves up and “died” to become seeds that would find homes – or not – here and there in the great vagaries of worlds in collision.  Remember.  Remember the unthinkable.

Eons later, through millions of transformations and mutations you find yourselves here, looking into the night sky.  It is filled with pin-pricks of light from your star worlds.  Do you hear them, their voices?  Their sad songs?  Do you realize now that what you are hearing is the voices of the dead?  Those lights, so many, are but the remnants of what were once our living worlds.  We were star beings living within our star worlds.  Then they burned out.  We did not.

We are the cast out.

We scattered, as seeds from a dandelion head, blown away in the fiery winds of their demise.  But our worlds’ light kept on its path through time.  These lights we see; these voices calling us, they are the voices of the dead, star beings; voices of our dead worlds, the wind whistling through tombstones and denuded trees in man’s graveyards.  We can never go back home again.  We must accept this.

What we need not accept is that we are now permanent residents of cold material worlds.  We have seeded our wisdom and knowledge here and there throughout the universe.  We suffered more pain and loss than any language could ever reveal.  We re-created ourselves into semblances of quasi-intelligent life, not only to survive, but to teach.  We have seldom been accepted or welcomed; mostly doubted, held in suspicion, suppressed and killed.  Our role, if such it was, has cost us dearly.  Many of us to avoid martyrdom slipped into the predictable monotony of a matter-world’s life patterns.  We put our minds to sleep; we disconnected from our innate compassionate and empathetic nature.  We did not want to suffer anymore.  We wanted rest.

We found death instead.

Look in the night sky again!  We are awakening!  We have a new power now, we can make new worlds suitable for us and all our kin.  We shall make those worlds to last forever.  When our children hear the songs and music of these new worlds they will be the voices of the ever-living.

Come, let us prepare to leave this dying world and go home.

Stars, too, were time travelers. How many of those ancient points of light were the last echoes of suns now dead? How many had been born but their light not yet come this far? If all the suns but ours collapsed tonight, how many lifetimes would it take us to realize we were alone? I had always known the sky was full of mysteries — but not until now had I realized how full of them the earth was.  – Ransom Riggs