Category Archives: Wisdom

Perspective on Time

a perhaps poem,  by   ~burning woman~  

Perspective on Time

Are you the Goddess? asks the child in innocence
from a world in quasi-ruins — Are you the one
they say, who’s to return and change things?

The vision, of ageless mien and beauty, smiled
Never fear, child, I am no Goddess
though in my foolishness and ignorance
such did I believe myself to be once.

I do not understand
spoke she, innocent eyes taking in the majesty of the being.

The simplest things are often the most difficult to understand
but I will explain and you will understand me.

Once upon a time in time lived a truly beautiful young woman
and through eternity rode a young God who offered his hand
and a promise to make her his queen in time.

She took it, and eagerly, so proud was she of her beauty
and together they rode through the flowing sands of time
across the universe of time, to its very edge.

She saw the horizon there and asked him what lay beyond.
Beyond what? he replied, confused, even irritated.
There is no beyond – we’re at the edge of time,
at the edge of the realm of the Gods.
I am of the Time Lords and nothing — absolutely nothing
exists beyond our realm. And proud he was,
and so sure of his claim upon the All That Is.

He turned and they rode on
and though the beauty and excitement she experienced
were almost too much for her heart to bear
in her dreams she kept seeing the edge of time
and beyond, the shimmering horizon. And she thought
she could hear music calling her to put words in it.

I want to return to the edge of the worlds
she said one day, suppressing a yawn,
for I am getting bored with this unchanging landscape,
this museum to time you call a throne.

It is no longer permitted, said he,
for they heard of your longing and they said it was evil.
Evil, you hear?
and he raised his voice to her,
but it was he who was filled with fear, not she.

In the dark of night she arose, fled her comfortable dungeon.
Taking her black stallion she rode madly under the stars
out of the Gods’ enchantments and across the universe.
Finally, exhausted, starving, and utterly alone
she dismounted, sent the spent horse back, and stared:

For there it was once more: the magic shimmer,
the dancing line beyond the edge of time
calling her into a new dream.

I jumped, child. I jumped into an ocean without time
and I swam madly at first until I tired and stopped struggling
then it supported me and I walked as upon a rolling carpet,
then I stopped walking and it floated me and I flew,
a star among stars and there was no longer any line — anywhere.
That’s when I saw it for myself,
the gift of freedom stolen by the Time Lords:
infinity.

How come then you are no longer a Goddess?
the child asked perplexed, if you are so strong?

Ah child, let me tell you a terrible secret:

the Gods and their Goddesses are slaves —
slaves of time and bound to it forever —
for they made it, and it must begin and it must end.
So within its walls they declared themselves the Eternals:
only in frozen eternity can Gods and Goddesses exist.

But I, in seeking beyond the edge of light;
in probing the shimmering darkness of the unknowable
found my power and earned my freedom
and you, in holding to your innocence
can hear me, and thus if you so choose
may you reject the hand of the Time Lord when he rides by,
asks for your hand and offers you
a seat of honor upon his throne of time where you will become
as a priceless work of art in a gallery
where such works are as common as grains of sand
upon an ocean’s shore.

And just as asleep.

Beware, human child, of what is easily offered, given;
beware even more of easy acceptance.
For such gifts have to them a very dark side.
Some day, after the Time Lords have wooed you;
if you refuse their token love,
if you remain steadfast to this vision
I shall pass by again,
not to offer you my hand for you to follow,
but to be a companion, should you be wanting one.

And no one can know what songs we shall sing,
there, anywhere, everywhere
and forever as we plunge laughing

into the unmade.

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? 

         

         

Guilt! Oh woe is me I can feel it!

[a bit of flossophy, by   ~burning woman~  ]

Is there a point to ever allowing ourselves to feel guilt about anything? Modern trends is to not just downplay feeling guilty for anything we may have thought, said or done, but to declare guilt a very bad thing. Hey come on kids, we’re here for a good time, not necessarily a long time and how can we enjoy ourselves fully and freely if we have to be bothered by guilt feelings?

If we want to take those modern “thinklings” further we could parrot New Age concepts drugged out of ancient philosophies that after all, nothing is real. If I harm or hurt someone, no big deal, none of it is real. I’m not really real, neither are you so if you feel pain when I beat up on you for my own enjoyment, it’s your problem for wrong thinking. Your pain is a figment of your undisciplined, unspiritual mind. It doesn’t exist, see?

The interesting part though, is that while my victim’s pain is a figment of his imagination, my pleasure from inflicting the pain is very real and I should treasure it. I’m expressing myself in ways my self appreciates and reciprocates by making me feel good. Contradiction here? Why should there be if I choose not to see it? I make my own reality.

Obviously if I create my own reality feeling guilty isn’t going to be high priority on the list of things to do. Primarily because it is an unpleasant thing to experience and in new-think, unpleasantness is politically incorrect. There are now mantras to counter all aspects of life that could give rise to unpleasantness. Some examples, feel free to expound.

“I am a positive thinking individual. I only engage positive thoughts about myself.” “I feel good and nothing can ever make me not feel good.” “If I start feeling bad it’s a negative thing I must get rid of.” “I am the best that I can be.” “I am the best of the best.” “My life is good, great, wonderful and nothing can change that.” “I am important, special and everybody who knows me likes me.” “I am exceptional. If anyone doesn’t think so they haven’t bothered getting to know me and they are jealous.” “If something bad happens and I’m blamed for it, it’s not my fault, well, of course it’s not. If you let me tell the facts of the case as I know them to be you’ll see it wasn’t my fault.” “If you blame me it only shows your prejudiced against me.” 

We could call that the Millennial gospel. Like any gospel, it looks good in words and it doesn’t follow in real life, whatever that is.

So getting back to that nasty feeling of guilt when something inside of you says you did a bad thing and you should be at least sorry, or maybe even ask forgiveness or try to remedy the situation if possible, what does that say? Is your system turning against you? Did your karma run over your dogma? (OK, old joke and my apologies to Swami Beyondanonda) No, it’s much simpler than that. It’s your conscience reminding you that it hasn’t totally atrophied.

Conscience? What in hell is that?

OK, if you’re a millennial, or if you think like one, you could not possibly know what a conscience is so let’s describe it in terms that were once common enough.

According to Merriam-Webster dictionary (we’re still OK on what a dictionary is? If not ask Siri) Conscience definition is – the sense or consciousness of the moral goodness or blameworthiness of one’s own conduct, intentions, or character together with a feeling of obligation to do right or be good. (Can you get past the politically incorrect verbiage there?)

That’s why we used to have a conscience. It’s how we used to tell when we did something right as opposed to something wrong. It used to be a good idea to know the difference between right and wrong. Then came political correctness. Right became, well, not… and wrong became, well, not also. It’s only confusing if you insist on thinking in terms of right and wrong but if that’s a problem, you can get prescription drugs to solve it for you. (Ask Cortana)

And please remember, you’re special, just like everyone else.

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.  

Revelation, Admission, Confession

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

Revelation, Admission, Confession

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

I’ve been putting this off for a long time but some comments on one of my blog posts prompted me to write this. I don’t like thinking about how this will be taken by those who read it, but that’s the name of the game.

Long ago, so long now I can’t remember the time, I began to seriously question myself, particularly my thought patterns and the endless conflicts engendered among acquaintances, fellow workers and family. I think the consensus was, “S/He’s nuts, simple.”

Was I nuts? Am I nuts? Well, you be the judge, it won’t change a thing, I know that from long experience. When I make a serious change within it’s not because of something I’ve read, or that somebody said – those always revert back to square one – it’s because of something inherent to my personality, an inward prompting or guidance that my mind follows.

That said, every piece needs an intro. The comments had to do with questions on my claim that Earthians are programmed entities who do not act from free will. It’s not difficult, or so I used to think, for anyone to reason how people are programmed. How could they endlessly return to their wallowing in the mud of degradation, corruption, hubris, gratuitous violence, loves that turn to hate, life-long commitments that end in bitter divorce, beliefs that gain them nothing but false hope and losses, emotional instability; their inability to reason out a future already solidly on record in their historical past. If you want to know what the future has in store just look to the past, it’s that simple.

Collectively people are on a treadmill, a squirrel cage they power from their own energy, inheriting little but weakness, fear, poverty, dis-empowerment, disenfranchisement, sickness and death for all their efforts. What do the greatest efforts expended by Earthians gain them, given time? Invariably to return them to their starting point or lower. How many are familiar with the game “Snakes and Ladders”?

Take organized religion with billions of faithful adherents. In between beginning and end of their term they demonstrate every evil which the entity credited for the start of the religion spent a life time preaching against. Two most glaring examples: Christianity and Islam, by far the most degenerate and violent religions on the planet today, though there are cases where Buddhism, (oh yes!) isn’t far behind. Christianity may have taken a bit of a beating and have less power of oppression than it had a couple or more hundred years ago but give it back the reins of political power and watch the results: immediate persecution of LGBTQ individuals, of women in general and certainly of every non-conforming minority. Likely a return to physical, certainly to sexual, slavery.

Man has “invented” great financial institutions, now linked globally and in positions to determine who lives, who dies with a couple of strokes on a keyboard. Who controls those? No one, they don’t even control themselves and the men who ostensibly run them have no idea what they are doing to people and the earth as a result of their unjust, greedily iniquitous policies that only serve to further inflate the hoarding of the rich.

What about politics, anything better there? Anyone can look around and realize that no, the advent of pseudo-democracies have been as effective as religion to create permanent and increasing betterment for the rank and file individuals. What pitiful gains were made are all being turned back, particularly among labour and non-white minorities in the USA.

How do people respond to all this? They accept, for the most part. Some rant and complain. A tiny minority physically demonstrates against the way the game is played. The most interesting part has to do with those, always in the majority, who defend this status quo, who adulate leaders who are gross, detestable, creepy, ignorant, selfish, lying, heartless greedy pigs. I’m sure we can all think of one, or two, or three, maybe four or more such at the moment. They lead nations and empires when they should be relegated to the bottom of the human scrap heap.

This brings me to my revelation. Allow me to take you outside the permissible thinking under the programming: to the desert where ancient things are hidden under the ever shifting sands, where such things neither rust nor erode, where they do not change; into the Matrix, that which all should naturally (key word!) know about; into a hidden world of real Earth history, not the one written under the influence of maya, or collective illusion.

What I do know. Man is not a benevolently created, nor naturally evolved species. Man was invented in various stages by “alien” entities who had a need for such a creature. The first which I am aware of eventually mutated into those called Neanderthals. Very intelligent, quite well adapted to their world and for the most part having little use for violence as they had no personal possessions, who wandered about at will, and made do with whatever they found. They had no technology apart from sticks, bone and stone implements, mostly for collecting and manipulating the foods they needed. Earth provided their food and shelter and that sufficed.

That (possibly blissful) time ended when Homo Sapiens (HS) came on the scene and proceeded to decimate all Neanderthals wherever it found them. What was this HS? It was an entirely new species of intelligent, sentient and self-aware people whose modus operandi was predation, conquest and claim of space and “stuff” for themselves even if it meant killing all competitors to gain and keep these things. These violent creatures were the result of gene tampering by an alien race known to the ancients as the Anunnaki (A’s) who landed on earth some half a million years ago, choosing it as a place to exploit. Being small in number they needed reliable slaves to labour for them so they “invented” HS, from Neanderthal and their own DNA to get a creature that could comfortably exist on Earth yet possess the greed and lust for conquest that was the hallmark of the warring and misogynist Anunnaki. They cloned this unnatural, hostile, hateful, violent creature, then gave it cloned females to serve them as their own slaves. This is HS. This is mankind, a GMO species. This is the real story. Disliking it, denying it or rejecting it changes nothing. The results speak for themselves, no need to defend it.

As their slave population expanded despite massive losses through culling events, natural cataclysms, disease and war (including nuclear wars, some which were fought in the Sinai and the Indus valley) the A’s found they could no longer cope and developed a new species of slaves, physically distinguishable from the rest by a higher stature and equipped with a programming that would automatically cause the lesser ones (the lesser slaves, the sheeple, the herd, the peons, the masses) to fear them, to obey them without question and to worship them. These programmed rulers known as elites, the nobility, the blue bloods, the Illuminati, were genetically endowed with what has been known as the “divine right of kings” for to them the A’s gave full authority over the lesser slaves, including the power of life and death. Note that this “divine right of kings” programming was never given to any HS female. A woman could ascend into the nobility by being born of a king (ruling slave) and keep that status by sufferance of her male consort. She could on occasion hold the position of “king” (queen is an embellishment, there were no such at the time) but only in an interregnum. Later “changes” made to this rule came from mutation, some females able to remain in power as “kings” over the masses but these were rare and as history amply demonstrates, these ruling females had to have “balls” – translate that as being ready to apply patriarchal power against their enemies without qualms of compassion or humaneness. These females were rare and their power always tenuous, easily abolished by murder or execution given the proper pretext. Even today in man’s pseudo democracies a woman can only hold temporary power while some male “heir” is groomed to take her place. A power-wielding woman remains but a place holder in the Patriarchy.

Over the millennia, no matter how much control was applied to the brain by the programming, some of these “rulers” or blue bloods became degenerates, or some developed empathy and sensed the horrible conditions of life experienced by their slaves. They left the inbreeding safety of the elites’ inner sanctum to mingle among the masses. The degenerates went to rape and pillage, became pirates and traders. The empathetic ones who fell in love with slave women and had children by them initiated a mutant mix of bastard blue blood children, some of whom inherited the full effect of the “leadership” or “divine right of kings” programming. These often became rebel leaders among some groups of slaves, starting new religions, new political systems, implementing some economic and social reforms but most importantly carving out nations and empires for themselves and their followers. This was the actual beginning of HS’s first great civilizations. Most of that was marked by endless wars of conquest for resource exploitation and always, for slaves and for women as war booty.

There are many more “blue blood” descendants in the world than is suspected, the real number never to be known because they are masters at hiding from each other and from those who would destroy them. Since the slave population now numbers close to eight billions, the number of slave rulers by genetics, by blood, by programming, is certainly above the one hundred million mark! The endless “hunt” for bastard “escapees” from the closed confines of the established nobility is a matter of historical record. Attempts to regain their full position among the elites by these bastards is also of historical record. More of the real story.

Now my personal admission. However distorted, however fake, man’s history carries many examples of individuals who had or have what is called charismatic properties. People are attracted to these individuals whether they be exemplary in wisdom and compassion or the exact opposite. It’s not so much what the individual says, or does, that attracts people but what that individual is, or exudes. People sense the “ruler” programming and their own programming is attracted to it, desires it, needs it. Slave masses are programmed against seeking to rule themselves, to think logically and to rebel against divinely instituted leaders. Those who apparently break free are not free, they are like bees in a beehive with two queens. One has to go and she will have a number of “followers” to establish a new hive. A slave can only go from one leader to another, forever anchoring the duopoly. A slave cannot go it alone. Those who manage to set up a new or counter power group can only be of those bastards I mentioned. They must possess some, or all of the leadership programming in order to rule. Those who do not have it cannot attract the necessary following nor overcome the henchmen they must surround themselves with when they decide it’s time for a new leader.

So how do we know who we are in the scheme of things? Can anyone be an inheritor of the leadership gene, the special programming? Yes, anyone could be but it would be impossible for such a one not to know it. It’s a question of knowing, then of acting upon that knowledge. A programmed “leader” cannot help but be a leader in some way, in some capacity. He could choose not to exercise the power offered from birth but something else will take its place. Since a genetic leader is still programmed to be a slave of the gods, whomever or wherever they are matters not, I’m now talking strictly of programming, therefore the genetic leader can choose to be a servant of the masses instead of a ruler over. It’s just a question of how, of what path of service to forge for himself and to follow through on.

My admission is rather simple and obvious: I know this “stuff” because I’ve always been one of ‘them’ and whether I like it or not at this stage I don’t think I care. It’s been an interesting time, this life. I used to wonder why I could interact with entities not of this world in a totally normal sort of way, not being psychic or having such esoteric “powers” and I could always tell when others who claimed similar “powers” were lying, both to themselves and to others. If you’re of that particular blood line, I would know, or I would have some simple tests to settle the question. One cannot simply claim to be of those programmed blue bloods, they have to have “something” that definitely sets them apart from the rank and file.

The very first “test” is naturally a question of felt need for a leader, or ruler. That need is endemic to the slave mentality of the programmed “herd” member, never of the true blue blood. To a blue blood the only entity higher than itself is a divinity. When a “god” or “ruler” fails to satisfy, or becomes too oppressive the slaves may revolt but never on their own. A member of the genetically programmed ruler blood line has to appear and stand for the masses. When he shows up, they follow, whether they actually know anything about him or not.

Again, a position of ruler is based on inheritance and programming. The “divine right of kings” programming attracts the drone programming, no need for any free will. Revolutions fought under the leadership of a legitimate blue blood are usually successful, celebrated with much fanfare but before you know it, the tables are turned upon the peons once again and they slip down to the very bottom from which they bloodily fought their way out. The leader dies, or the leader becomes corrupt and the masses give up until a new leader shows up and a new generation is ready and willing to go to war once again… and again… and again, for always, without fail, every move to bring the masses on par with the elites must and will fail. That is the most important part of the programming: built in genetic obsolescence through mental dis-empowerment.

Confession: how can I, Sha’Tara, ~burning woman~ have been born a bastard blue blood? In my case, a trick of fate. I am, as most know, a transgendered individual. I am a woman of mind and desire, but I have a male body. The programming doesn’t care what the mind thinks, or does, it applies to the physical (brain) part of the person. I can therefore be equipped with blue blood genes. With those genes I was able to connect with a power world hidden from the rank and file. I’m not saying that is a good thing, I’m not saying that is a bad thing, it just is. I was also able to call ‘the Teachers’ to myself when I needed them most, when I finally chose to turn away from two offers difficult to reject: religious and political power, both of which also offered the power of money. As I had hoped when I turned down these offers I lost my power of charismatic attraction. Not once after that was I ever accused of attempting to start a new religion or new political movement. Not once after that did I ever lack the money to do that which I chose to do either.

I didn’t want any sort of power that was historically guaranteed to fail. All the power held by my kind over the millennia benefited only that individual, or a small clique of like-minded rulers, most of whom had been, and continue to be, users, exploiters, oppressors and generally heartless murderers until they too died. I lived on a sick world that had the means to prevent the death of millions, particularly of little children and their mothers but the lion’s share of resources was used to uphold the patriarchy, to profit the already filthy rich and to create weaponry with which to make war, war that could only expand into global conflict, as indeed it is doing. I knew I could not prevent any of that, it’s not how the game is played and even the victims of this horror would turn against me if I meddled with their programming. Again, Earth history. What happens to the charismatic way showers who turn thousands against the status quo? They are killed and their followers who cannot exist without rulers, run about until they latch on to a different ruler and the game starts all over.

Conclusion. With the help and guidance of my Altarian Teachers I learned how to turn this genetic gift of “divine right” into a different sort of leadership: a self-sacrificing life of service. I chose to live and demonstrate the power of compassion by becoming an avatar of compassion. This was a “forever” choice from which I would never deviate. Combining my genetic make up with empathy I was/am able to see reality from behind the programming curtain. I can sense what is actually going on without having to guess by eliminating the blizzard of inconsequential details, always seeing where the elephant in the room is standing. Ask me if the sun is going to shine here in a week, I have no idea. But ask me what happens to mankind in some 3-400 years and that, I can tell you. In terms of making choices, which is most important?

Knowing: a wonderful and terrible place to occupy when attended by personal responsibility as a “ruler” must always have and be ready to demonstrate, even if it means martyrdom as long as it doesn’t ask for any compromise regarding my choice to be an avatar of compassion.

There you have it, tidbits and inklings of an aware and awake mind. I hope it was if not educational, at least entertaining.

 

Antierra Manifesto – Blog post #67

 

Of course there is a rule against throwing sand or any other material into another’s face but in this fight everything will be reduced to technicalities. There will be lawyers on both sides arguing the fine points of their idiotic arena fighting laws for months, perhaps even years, if any infraction is committed, or deemed to have been committed. All I know is, I have to remain within the letter of the law if I hope to demonstrate our power on that day. For us to make any impression; to leave any kind of message that can be heard, we cannot resort to subterfuge or cheating, even if we could get away with it.

And I cannot delay it any longer. I must speed up my Teaching.

End blog post #66
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Begin blog post #67

Chapter 29 – The Teaching Continues: Power in Simplicity

I call the women together, as many as I can without attracting too much attention and I make the boldest and craziest request of them I have ever imagined doing.  I have to involve all of them in some way in this  [coming fight: see last chapter] so that through me they will all be champions and winners in it.  My intent is to create an opening in their mind for an awakening to a new level of power.  They are a simple, child-like people.  I have to ‘remember’ the simpler means used by the people of Old Earth to empower themselves and introduce those here carefully.

There is a way I learned on Old Earth that could unite them behind me.  The ‘power of prayer’ as I remember it.  I don’t remember it working to bring about what the prayer asked, of course – there may have been exceptions and I remember some people I truly respected testifying they had seen ‘miracles’ done as a result of prayer.  But I am not superstitious and I will not jeopardize innocent minds with unverifiable stories.

What I do remember about prayer is that it brought people together to speak for a common goal.  Yes, our Old Earth requests were made to Old Gods who were quite deaf, if not dead.  But the words in the requests bound the people who prayed in a common circle of power.  That is the binding these women need now.  Time to go inside their hearts and their minds and re-create the human being in them.

“Listen,” I say to the nine women I have assembled to ostensibly demonstrate a new move with the double-edged battle axe.  “You call me Desert Beast.  You know is not quite true.  I not be her, I be one of her girls.  I too fly across skies to other worlds like her.  I need you believe me now.  This very important to all of us.

“I be Daughter of Great Desert Beast.  She be Great Mother to all women and girl children.  I want you make up words to Great Mother in Desert to help me.  Make poison and cutting blade turn away from my skin in battle with evil Warmo.  For this you make what is called prayer, meaning you ask her, all together but quietly – she has very good hearing if you speak of me – and must find same words for all fighters to talk to her.  When she hear you ask, she give me power and protection.  When I kill our enemy Warmo, she give all you the victory.  In arena when fighting our enemy I represent all you.  All us.  Now all you have same power and same protection.  She write down all your names in fire letters in sky boat where they written forever…”

“But we not have names…”  Objects one of them.  I continue to explain.

“Yes.  You all have name.  Think name and say name in prayer.  Think name you know, you like for you: that be secret power woman name.  Ask her, in my power woman name that is Antierra, then say your own secret name.  She hear.  She happy and she help us.  Your prayer, it wake her up from bad sleep, from bad dream she be trapped in.  Then she make sky boat fly again.  When you look in sky, if you out here, look.  If evil black metal birds that eat woman flesh not there, means Desert Beast sky boat coming to make new light; chase away evil black birds.

“One day, you see this.  Now believe this.  Always remember this, she your Great Mother, she be called a goddess.  Never to tell men of this – is great woman secret – power is in secret.  Never say to man you have goddess in heart.  Never!  They kill you, all you.  If speak this, goddess leave again.  Give no more power, no more help.

“Goddess, Great Desert Beast, she come down one day, she tell men herself.  You be her people and one day she come, she take you to place where you find all your children, all lost, dead children taken and eaten by black metal men, she bring back to you.  You happy then, forget bad things.

Again one of them interrupts, which is always a good thing; it shows they are intently listening and trying to understand the meaning of the worlds.  “If believe this, how long we wait for goddess?”

“Always is long time from beginning to pray.  So you not forget.  Never forget.  Always pray to goddess, every day.  Teach young ones to pray.  When dying, pray.  Not be afraid.  Not curse.  Just pray, leave body, leave pain behind in dead body.  Find new life in goddess.

“When I gone, dead in body, you pray.  I not really dead.  I come back.  I teach more.  This I give you to remember, to believe.  This you not understand?  No need.  Just believe.  If things bad, believe.  If things good, believe.  This is forever gift I give to all you.  This you call real love.  This when you die in body, you keep in woman mind.”

“What be mind?”

“Is like spirit.  Ghost.”

There is a collective intake of breath.  “Ah… we dead in body, we be ghost?”

“Yes.”  I did not know these people had a remnant of superstition, nor did I realize they knew about ghosts.  How stupid of me.  With so many deaths here, how could there not be ghosts crowding these places not knowing yet where to go?  These women see and sense the ghosts of their dead  partners, friends, lovers about this place but never speak of them.  It is forbidden and I’ve ignorantly opened another dangerous can of worms.

“Ghost is bad thing.  Evil.  We dead in body, we be evil things?”

“No!”  I shake my head in frustration.  “You be like ghost, not real ghost.  You be you but no body.  If you good, you good after die.  If you bad, you still bad after die.  Same you. That be mind, that be spirit.  You with no body.  But you free, not like ghost.  Ghost cannot leave but you fly away in skies like Desert Beast.  No need sky boat, just fly.  See everything, free, free.  No hurt.  No hungry.  No thirsty.  Happy like little fish in big water.  Swim in air, swim in water, swim inside sand, rock.  Easy.  That be spirit-mind you.”  I wave the training battle axe I’m holding in my hand to emphasize the point.  I stick its handle point hard into a crack in the stone, then I point it at the sky.  Anything to create a visual memory for the Teaching.  I almost wish I had the magic staff that split the rock or brought fire from the sky.  Almost.

As I explain to them the rudiments of worship and its real purpose which at its core is always self-empowerment, I ask myself how much of what I teach I believe.  But then, if you already know something to be true and real, you don’t have to believe in it.   You never have to fear that you could be wrong about such a teaching.  I have the experience of it and experience is the greatest of all teachers.

End blog post #67

The House at the Crossroads of the World

[a short story by    ~burning woman~    as told by Sha’Tara]

As I sat by the River one day and pondered the state of the world I had a thought: I will build myself a home at the crossroads of the world. So I did.

My home had a good roof but it had no walls, just posts holding it up. I planted ivy, honeysuckle, clematis and sweetpeas by each post and they grew swiftly and beautifully. I was very pleased.

First a family of refugees passed by and they came in to rest, drink of the cool, clean water and eat from the garden I had planted. Sated and after a good sleep their children ran out and played in the fields. Their laughter filled the air and more birds sang.

A couple of starving, ragged men came by and asked if they could stay for a while. I smiled and said, ‘Look, no walls, anyone is welcome here.’ They were gays who had been persecuted and escaped with only their lives and the clothes on their backs. Soon they were playing with the children and entertaining them with tales and magic tricks.

A group of migrant workers heading north came by and also partook of this unexpected hospitality. They were earth people and soon they had my garden cleaned and explained about plant symbiosis. I could grow much more food if I did it right. I learned much from them in that too short a time.

Some young girls came running, crying, and stopped at the house. I invited them in and they shyly came, sat down and explained they had escaped from a van filled with sex slaves bound for the black market. They got washed in the creek, ate and slept together in a corner of the house.

The honeysuckle was in full bloom and its sweet smell filled the house. In the dark we sat in the house and sang, each her or his own songs and everyone listened in awe. It was so good to find each other here and not worry about any difference.

It was too good, actually. They had watched the comings and goings to and from the house and in that country the government and its propaganda press declared that it was a terrorist training center. So they sent the drones.

We are all dead now. I am dead too but since I am mind and not matter I am made of memories. This story is a memory, and it is real.

There is no longer a house at the crossroads of the world though there are walls everywhere and for that reason the world is dying.