Tag Archives: Reflections

Search for the Meaning of Life

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

Life, I ask myself, late in the night as I ponder reality: what is life? I know what I think it is; I know what I’ve read about it; I know many other peoples’ thoughts on it, but none of that answers my question. Is life a ‘what’? Is it a ‘who’? Is it a guide? Something to be endured, gotten over with on the way to something else?

I suppose my question makes as much sense as a sardine asking itself what the ocean is. Unless I can travel all of time and space, and beyond time, such it seems must remain the unsolvable riddle, the unanswerable question. Yet knowing this only makes me want to wander the labyrinth even more. I don’t want out of there until I have received a satisfactory answer.

Am I meant to live forever then, forever searching for an answer to my ultimate “Why?” and never arriving at that answer: is that how it works? Or, am I meant to discover the answer serendipitously, by assembling the puzzle pieces through a series of events based on some common sense and pure luck?

Is life the greatest master teacher or the final trickster? Or as some have tried to convince me, nothing more than a meaningless happenstance you go through once never to be heard of again?

If one were to either through luck or good management discover the secret of life, would that answer all the other “why’s” that led to the final answer? Wouldn’t I not then be asking why was such and such a process used to create all the pieces of life’s puzzle? Why pain? Why happiness overshadowed by loss? Why they good crushed under the jack boots of evil? Of sorrow and joy, why can’t one exist without the other?

Tonight I experienced another of those recurrent bouts of empathy for a world I don’t even particularly like or care for: a world I just happen to be in at this time. I “saw” people, not as groups, collectives, races, ages, genders, but as individuals, yes even in their billions, like rain drops falling in a storm-tossed ocean. It was a wave of sorrow for this world so powerful I had to find some support to lean on, my legs did not want to support me. The world, mankind, passed through my mind and all my physical energy was focused there.

Life, so it seemed, was passing through me as through a filter.  There were sobs, sighs and tears and I thought, yes, that is what it means to become an empath. You feel but it’s a knowing, aware feeling, not an emotion that flares and dies and leaves you free to continue where you left off. This changes you, each time it happens it gives birth to a new awareness of life, a new ‘you.’

So that’s where it’s at for me in my current understanding of the meaning of life. It is an endless birthing of new awareness; an awareness that determines the path I must walk until another birthing happens, then the path changes again. Push, feel the pain, along with the need to bring this about, push again and again, then rejoice in what is birthed.

Nurture this preciousness until the next time.

Life means there will always be a next time.

Dialogue with a Teacher

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

“I would be a catalyst for change, a change agent.”
“Why?” She asked, her back to me. She seemed to be staring at something beyond the horizon only she could see.
“Why?” I replied, “It’s this world, Teacher; it breaks my heart.”
“So you would change it then?”
“Yes.”
“You understand how change happens, do you not?”
“I think so… but there are so many ways…”
“No! Not if you desire good change. Yes, many ways to bring about change that nurtures unhappiness, misery and endless grief. But the good change, how do you make that come about?”
“I do not know… I simply do not know how.”
“Very well. I am going to reveal some ancient wisdom to you, then you will understand though it may change your mind about being a change agent. Have you ever fallen in love with someone? Ever been so in love that nothing else mattered?”
“Yes I have been, long, long ago.”
“Can you recall your feelings of that time?”
“Somewhat, yes. Pure madness!”
“Madness yes, but all good change comes from that sort of madness. Life proceeds from that madness. Children are born because of it. Now for the great secret but first you get one guess: where does this madness originate? What is its genesis?”
“Trick question, Teacher? I honestly do not know.”
“Such a seed can only be found in one place in the entire universe: in your heart. You must mine for it, extract it, grind and polish it, love it above everything else, desire it more than anything else then give it out freely and completely to the world you wish to see change come about in.
“Know this, that once you give it away you must die. You know the truth of it, “unless a seed falls to the ground and dies it will not produce fruit.” You were taught this when only a child and you remember that lesson. Of all the lesser teachings you received from your tribal parents and teachers, you kept this one and one other.
“Now remember this also, my Avatar, there are many ways to die. Dying is easy but there is only one way to live: with compassion through complete detachment. You understand?”
“Yes Teacher, I do understand.”
“Does it make you want to change your mind?”
I was very slow in answering her, not because I was unsure about my choices but because the moment was so charged with “sacred” energy. I suppose she would have said my reply was predictable.
“On the contrary, Teacher, this is an affirmation. As to that second lesson you alluded to, I remember it well also…”small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.”
“Be sure to remain on it.”

So far, so good, what I know

So far, so good, and this is what I know.

I know I’m not what acquaintances think I am. I knew this long ago but it’s one of those things not easy to admit. If I’m not what’s portrayed on the social flat screen display, then I have to make the effort to discover who I really am.

From somewhen during the time of gestation we are programmed to not know who we are but to rely upon the social video and mirror display for the answer to “who am I?” I am assigned a gender, given a name, raised in the social family zoo which eventually expands to include a neighbourhood, a school, possibly a church, sports clubs or the farm, personal relationships, college, a job, marriage, the sprouting of a new family zoo, bits and pieces of the planet seen from the tourist’s eye-view and so on until death.

What I might suspect I might be is not relevant to any of that. If there is a funeral, some gathered folks, eulogy or such words spoken, in the end all that will be said can be put in these words: was she a good function? A good tool?

Tonight I was just starting to read a book called “Waking Gods” by Sylvain Neuvel. Basically the protagonist awakens to the fact that she is not who people think she is and the person they think she is, is already dead, only they don’t know that, she does. She has read ‘her’ personal history and story and realizes, having awakened from some dream, how little she has in common with her doppelganger. Bits and pieces only, little else, and the relationships the ‘others’ insist on linking her with she has to pretend to have some emotional connections to it. She doesn’t want them but her social status insists, for the moment, that she agrees to them.

And I went, ‘Wow!’ Indeed, that is how it is when you awaken to your real self. It won’t change the social camera display or the face in the mirror but it will change everything within. That’s where the real me lives and if I open my mind to myself, a lot is going to change, outside the necessary pretense.

Then I begin to wonder, how necessary is that pretense after all? What reputation I may have isn’t mine, it belongs to the camera and the mirror. Do I care about that? Isn’t it a fact that any reputation the social image maintains isn’t for me, but for the benefit of the the social construct? Do I care about the social mirage? The family? The friends and neighbours who would turn on me in a second if they realized that the “me” I’ve been talking about for years is actually real, and not the B&W photos or Kodachrome cartoon face from the family album they associate with me?

I know that the day I chose a purpose for my life; that I chose to no longer be a function of the Matrix, that everything changed.  My life was turned right side up and I’ve been walking normally ever since. A good thing to know.

Quote: “When I enter a spiritual journey, who am I traveling to see? When I go on a quest, what am I looking for? When I go on a mind’s voyage of discovery, what do I hope to find? The answer: myself, always myself. Everything is a reflection of myself. If I don’t like it, I have but one option: to change myself.” — Sha’Tara – monologues.

EVERYTHING IS ON ITS WAY TO SOMEWHERE

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

“Everything is on its way to somewhere” (Movie ‘Phenomenon’)
“Things change and they don’t change back” (Nemesis Games, James Corey)

On the other hand and interestingly, when it comes to the people of Earth, there are never new starts – every start packs something of the old within itself and it all turns to shit again. The older one gets, the closer one comes to that “place” of final change, the more the above reminders become true and undeniably accurate.

None of us knows much about ‘Life’ in general. We call one physical passage on this world a ‘life’ from which we gain a few experiences which serve no purpose whatsoever because it’s followed by either permanent lights out or the unknowable endlessly speculated and pontificated upon eternal.

When we’re dying, do we know for a fact who we are? Are we something that’s finally run out of fuel to simply fall by the wayside or something propelling itself into the unknown star fields as a star ship pushed by  its “warp” drive?

At death’s door, what ‘thing’ part of us is on its way to somewhere? Who or what determines if there is a somewhere to go to, and if so, how is that somewhere chosen? Or is it arbitrary? Is it a direction or a place, like a huge bubbling recycling vat from which pieces are taken as building blocks for new words, new universes, new extensions and additions to existing constructs and new experiments?

A shift in thought:

Decades ago I grew tired of being told how to live my life, whether the instructions came from God, bosses, political or religious leaders, corporations, bankers or a sex partner. I got tired of being told what I should or should not believe; how I should worship; what I should or should not eat or drink or buy or wear; what sort of people I should associate with or not and what constituted my family; my “home” and my “people.” “Enough!” I heard myself scream in my mind one say and everything turned on its head.

While so many of these controlling people around me were busy building and rebuilding walls to try to make themselves feel safer and happier I found myself tearing mine down. I was pretty sure that freedom was unattainable on earth but at least I wanted openness. I wanted to be able to see the horizon in my mind. I didn’t want to be staring at blood-stained walls of arrogance, bigotry, racism and misogyny.  I was through trying to fit in.

How can you be going anywhere when surrounded by walls of exceptionalism; of exclusive belief; of oppression and extortion; of self-protection? Walls made of greed, fear, hate and paranoia? The caterpillar doesn’t go into a cocoon for self-preservation but in the hope of breaking forth as a butterfly. Do man-made walls ever turn anyone into a butterfly?

Across the international border a few miles from this town is a nation that is closing in on itself, helplessly it seems as, if it was entering into a cocoon. But this is not a life-changing cocoon, it’s a strangling prison. It wants a wall on its southern border because it fears its neighbours but if that wall is built, it won’t stop there. The wall will continue to grow, partly in a physical way but mostly in the imprisoned hearts. Unseen and untouched the neighbours behind the wall will grow horns and forked tails, morphing into demons and monsters. The wall won’t be enough to guarantee safety. In all likelihood the monsters and their children will have to be nuked. But that will only amplify the threat.

That’s where we come face to face with all our new starts and realize how true it is that there have never been any such on this world, or at least for as long as this patriarchal civilization has existed. Walled in, repetitive, entropic, too weak, too ignorant, too closed-minded to make that jump into the new.

What somewhere would you want to be heading for, people of Earth? What sort of change that doesn’t change back would you like to see happening?

How would you propose entering into a new start that packed nothing at all of the old so you would not condemn yourselves to repeating it?  Could you even imagine such an event?

What is the Cost of Maintaining a God?

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

Quote: “God, help us all to wake up and learn to love as community and not organization.”

This I’ve learned and this I’ll take with me to my next level of understanding: God (or whatever lives beyond the reach of mere Earthians and parades as creator) will not help “us”. Quite the contrary. The people who believe in God are often the worst kind to have around. And that is as it must be. “God” is, if one bothers to study Earth history, a monster. He is a hater of the feminine principle and destroyer of life, mostly of innocent life.

It is because Earthians have been programmed to “wait upon the Lord” that they cannot, will not help themselves, or one-another openly and freely; cannot break free once and for all from their slavery to “trusted” systems that have now supplanted religion, in particular monetary schemes.

“Man” is what God made him; “woman” less so, for she in truth, rebelled against the original programming. Some say that God is what man made it… if that is true, that only makes man worse for that makes God the scapegoat for all the man-perpetrated evil done in God’s name since the beginning of civilization.

It is said that God is also the author of love and what is that but a chameleonic emotion? A powerless concept, except within collectives where it can be practiced in the most exclusive and selfish ways? People should remember that it was the God of love who instructed His people to go throughout the (known) earth and kill all those who refused to worship Him – man, woman and child. Who instructed his fanatic followers to rip open pregnant women and kill their unborn children before their very eyes. To plunder, enslave, rape, torture and murder — all in the name of His love.

It is the same God, make no mistake, who directs the ways of the New World Order or call it predatory capitalism, the “new” religion of greed that incorporates the old patriarchal “values” based on exploitation, suppression, enslavement, plunder and general destruction of the planet and its life.

It is said that “man” would never know the ways of the Lord God. True. Few men have demonstrated an evil so utterly depraved as to rival God’s though many have tried. Hitler was one of those, a name to remember on the anniversary of the freeing of Auchwitz by the Soviet forces in 1945.

The awakened INDIVIDUAL does not need to know such ways. The awakened looks into the cosmos and knows life. The awakened is free to look in the face of evil and call a spade a spade. Such a one has no soul to worry about, or to feed with emotions and passions. The awakened knows logic and common sense, though not devoid of feelings. Conversely the soul-being is prey to endless roiling of passions and emotions that fight against one-another, for the soul, that precious gift of God, is the container for Earthian madness.

Few can accept this. To most, God is a sacred concept. To know God is to know love. To possess a soul is the mark of life, of belonging. But what is the historical evidence from maintaining such a belief?

If you look at history, you will find that all efforts, bar none, to find “love” – sharing, community, acceptance, freedom, peace, etc., have failed. Even in the tiny groups that survive as “Christian” (or other kinds) in “communities of brethren” have failed to spread and are now rife with dissension and pointlessness. Think of the Quakers, the Amish, the Hutterites, the Mennonites – and many others… they are dying anachronisms in this society. Few are attracted to their ways because they make no sense and their interactions with the modern world are full of contradictions.

What would make sense, then, in today’s world? Only an individual can find that answer, test it, and choose to walk in such a “sensible” way. Only the one who has learned NEVER to cry out: “Help me!” Only the one who has seen beyond hope; who has exposed the mockery of faith; who knows that love is a chimera. Only the one who’s quest for more of life is untrammeled by belief systems, whether such are based on God, Money or raw Power.

The Antierra Manifesto – blog post #11

[start blog post #11]

“This be warning”  one of them intones, “You know rule: No wailing. No disturbance permitted.  All of you we flog too, happy to do.  But owners, they say too much cost, so you lucky today.  Proceed with training and maintenance of weapons.  Any talk; any whisper, you flogged same as that gorok.  He spits in the direction of the dead girl.

The message is delivered without inflection or passion.  It would appear these men do not feel the least amount of the pain, fear or any other feelings they cause others to experience.  No empathy.  To them we are less than animals, although I believe the expression here is quite meaningless.  There are no domesticated animals that I am aware of in this society.  The food we eat contains no meat.  But again, I’ve been wrong so many times about so many things in the few days I’ve been here!  Days?  No, not days.  I’ve been here an eternity that will never end.  I’ve fallen in hell and there is no doorway out of it.

Three handlers walk among us as we exercise or work, pick a half dozen of the youngest trainees and escort them through one of the stone doors.  One by one they shortly return.  One of them had been a virgin by the blood that runs between her legs.  She is ordered to wash and continue with training and work.  For the handlers, the flogging death they observed had given them a powerful sexual desire they needed to sate and that is also what we are for.

The day wears on, oppressive, endless, silent.  When the sun passes beyond the battlements, painting the eastern sky a lurid reddish brown fired through thin stratus type clouds, a reminder of drying blood, we are fed and returned to our cages.  The body of the flogged child, for she had been no more than twelve or thirteen years of age, now covered with some sort of black fly I hadn’t seen before, is removed from the post by two gladiators.  She is stiff and cold.  They carry her to the same door used to remove the body of her friend and is dumped in a similar conveyance.

And out of the blue my mind is asking, “What do they do with our bodies?”  I know that the dead men are taken to a hill outside the city and buried with much pomp and ceremony, but what about the bodies of the gladiators?  Or women in general?  In the field they leave them to wild beasts.  Do they take ours from here and from the arena to be eaten out there?  Or do they perform some kind of hellish rituals upon them?  

A cold chill goes through me and I try to change the subject in my mind.  Is there something else, something beautiful, I can think about?  Well, why not engage myself on my reason for coming here, instead of bemoaning a fate I deliberately chose or engaging in bouts of self-pity and self-doubt? 

Come on, woman.  Where is all that courage and bravery you were so quick to talk about once, far from here?  Where is your compassion now that you are living in hell?  Don’t both victims and oppressors need to find their freedom?  Think.  Why is this world, a place that could be so beautiful, such a horror?  What feeds the misogynist males and their killing instinct?  Why can they not sexually engage a female except by doing her violence?  Why is the beating of a woman such an erotic event for all of them?  Or is it all of them?  Could there be exceptions among the male population, and if so, how can I find them?

When the doctor had sex with me he did not use force or violence on me.  Well, yes, some force because he knew I could not refuse, but no overt violence.  In fact his handling of my wound was uncharacteristically gentle.  Who is he?  He is taller than other men I’ve seen, and his face is broader, flatter.  Could it be that he’s from another place?  That he’s not a true Tassardi?  Push this a bit further, could he be an alien like me?  If so, why is he in this place?  What is he to this place?  Why did he whisper to me “we want him dead” of my first engagement in the arena?  Who are these “we”?  And his friend in the white uniform.  I sensed a mantle of authority over him.  Authority from whom, where?  When he looked at me, it wasn’t out of lust; in fact I’d swear he was not sexually interested in me at all.  Who or what, is he?  What are they planning and how do I fit into that plan if at all?

Many questions.  Good questions engender good answers and keep my feverish mind occupied.  I will find out.  I will know.  I’m glad that tonight I’m alone in my cage.  My thoughts are so loud I’d be afraid to think them if another was lying with me and after Tiegli I’m not ready to “make love” to accommodate another.  I have no passion, no feelings.  My heart is numbed from so much violence and loss in so short a time.  I listen to the rustling of moving bodies in the fresh straw.  I hear muted sobbing. 

Later, a scream, quickly stifled, then silence – the silence of death.  A large bird or some nocturnal creature ululates a macabre call outside, the sound coming in from one of the square openings high in the smooth stone walls to echo as the voice of the dead throughout the compound.  Water drips outside.  It must be raining.  Yes, let it rain, hard and long.  Wash all the blood out of the courtyard.  Wash all the blood from this world until no world is left.

Rain – the tears of the goddess, she whom I must re-awaken in the hearts of these women.  And I too begin to cry and my own tears become an endless river of sorrow.  Tiegli’s hoarse whisper comes to my mind: “We be strong; we be courageous; not tough like stone; not fearless.  We be only women, not robots or evil beasts.  We have heart… feeling.” 

In that on-going nightmare I am finding my own power, not the power I dragged in with me as from my other self, the Avatari Al’Tara, but a power I have created from the mix of love and terror I have experienced here.  From the blood soaked stones and sand of the arena.  From the many fights I have already entered and “won” if one can call that winning; survived is a more accurate term.

I dream again, but it’s a no-dream.  A “locator” to help me find my mind’s feet on T’Sing Tarleyn, my chosen and adoptive world.  Yes, after all, what I dream of is loving, caring and giving.  I am; I am here; I am real.  And because I exist here, in this time and this place, everything will change.  I know this.  I am all the women I have been in every life as far back through time as I can remember.  Each with some memory of power gained from some great personal loss and deep sorrow and each willing to give her share of it to Antierra.  Together we will discover the true pulse of T’Sing Tarleyn and change its name to T’Sing Tallala (pronounced sing tayala); the land of freedom and hope.  All I have to do is survive the years ahead and not give in to fear but in particular, to hate.  Anger is permissible to me I think, as long as it isn’t based on fear and isn’t allowed to develop into hate.  I need to express anger as a psychological release mechanism.  If I do not I will break or become a complete hypocrite.

[end blog post #11]

I Had to Write This…

I had to write this…
[thoughts from   ~burning woman~  ]

Just finished watching, for the umpteenth time, the movie, “The Statement” (2003) with Tilda Swinton and Michael Caine.  Basically another story of hunting down Nazi murderers of innocent and helpless Jews in WWII, this time in France under the fascist, heavily pro-Nazi Vichy regime led my Marshal Petain. 

The point here is that these mass murders happened 80 or less years ago – one Earthian life time and here we are, poised to do it all over again.  Isn’t that just fantastic how quickly we forget our ignorance, stupidity and murderous mob tendencies just to start again? 

Granted, we haven’t yet quite decided which race or class of people are going to suffer our wrath, but we’re ready to “do it”.  Most likely the educated and well-informed voting mob will pick on people of some sort of colour to slaughter. Refugees, they’re pretty safe, not too dangerous.  The Muslims, well, that’s a different matter, they tend to fight back. We’ll definitely need the police, the Security state, maybe the army on our side for this. It’s but a matter of putting the right people in government to pass the laws to legitimize the slaughter and that’s never been a problem.  The problem is motivating those still sitting on the fence.  They may have to be our target this time.  Great, those stupid liberals won’t expect to be a mob’s target: sitting ducks.  

You see? That’s how it goes.  The circles just get bigger, nothing essential changes.  And why is that? Why doesn’t anything change and why do we put on the rose coloured glasses and insist that somehow, yes, things have gotten better? Was the 20th Century with its two devastating world wars followed by endless wars and the cruelest form of exploitation of resource rich emerging countries really better than the Hundred Years War?  Is that a rhetorical question or what?

What is our problem?  I’ll tell you, and I’ll keep telling you, as long as I have breath: our problem is that as a species, as a collective, as a “civilization” we don’t give a damn. We are not the least empathetic, though we can be so easily conned by our various propaganda machines into believing that we are, indeed, kind and loving “at heart” and that it is only the few; the minority; that is psychopathic and loves war and killing.  It isn’t. It’s a very, very big majority that is in love with violence and that never gets enough of it. If you don’t believe me, check out the internet and video games. Check out how much money derives directly from violence or the promotion of violence.  

Not all violence means bloodshed and death, though we certainly enjoy doing that best. Violence is everything that causes some sort of harm to others; to another – human, animal, plant or planet, for one’s selfish benefit or one’s enjoyment.  We need to get that very clear in our head for it is the same as what religion calls sin: the inflicting of pain and loss upon any “other” for one’s own satisfaction, benefit or pleasure. 

There is but one antidote for this Earthian condition that is destroying this world and possibly much of the biological life on and in it, and that is for all *ISSA beings to choose to become compassionate.  How many times have I said that? Doesn’t matter because it’s like the wind in the leafless cottonwood trees here in winter: sound and either you like it or you don’t like it, but the wind doesn’t change its tune whether you’re comfortable with it or not.

I’ve been following the current protests highlighting climate change and elitist rip-offs called the economy and assessing the chances of such protests actually accomplishing anything at all. My conclusion is predictable: the protesters are going nowhere.

Oh, what a terrible thing to say! Of course they’re going somewhere; they’re making some politicos change their minds… wow! Problem with that is, these mind-changing chameleons are opportunists. They can see the tide flowing in and they are just smart enough to move the blanket, the umbrella and the cooler a bit higher up on the beach. Still same beach, same picnic, same people. They’ll be safe from the rising waters and who cares about those who are already up against the cliff? Their problem.

If there is one thing activism has taught me back then, it’s that to address one “big” problem it is absolutely necessary to address all “big” problems. You cannot address climate change without addressing global poverty. You cannot address poverty without addressing over-population. You cannot promote alternative sources of energy if you are not condemning consumerism outright. You cannot blame right-winged politicians for screwing the planet if you are blinding yourself to the fact that your “left winged” politicians (the ones you would happily put back in charge) are as corrupt and often more so.  You cannot address justice if you are not, first, dedicated to destroying your billionaire elites – and I mean destroy utterly.  You cannot address and hope to make a dent in any of the above if you are not primarily committed to stopping all wars, genocides and where police operate out of control as in the US, stopping all government sanctioned mass murder.  You cannot in all honesty address and oppose any of the above if inside yourself resides one ounce of racism, misogyny, bullying and oh yes, patriotism. How many realize that patriotism is fanaticism that leads to terrorism?  It’s always been that.

Finally (this has to stop somewhere) nothing at all will ever change as long as there remains one Earthian anywhere convinced that s/he is entitled; if particularly blessed in some way or is superior to anyone else.  In other words, until Earthian pride is completely subdued by humility… we are doomed. We were taught; we were given chance after chance; we know right from wrong and as long as we choose wrong we can’t expect that anything will ever come out right. 

“We knew that the Earth was flat, we knew that we were the center of the universe, and we knew that a man-made heavier than air piece of machinery could not take flight. Through all stages of human history, intellectual authorities have pronounced their supremacy by ridiculing or suppressing elements of reality that simply didn’t fit within the framework of accepted knowledge. Are we really any different today? Have we really changed our acceptance towards things that won’t fit the frame? Maybe there are concepts of our reality we have yet to understand, and if we open our eyes, maybe we will see that something significant has been overlooked.”Terje Toftenes (take from the film “The Day Before Disclosure”)

*ISSA: intelligent, sentient, self aware