Im seeing lights at the end of tunnels. I look into the dark forest and see a leafy branch bright green, caught in morning sunlight. Walking down a country road of early fall colours bowered over the way, theres light shining way down the road at a junction with another path. Those lights intersecting are encouraging.
There are plans and ideas moving us forward into new places, new adventures, far from the backcountry guru and his lost tribe. Its different now. Tribal life has narrowed to a select few friends and family. I am humbled by my mistake. I am reticent about embracing anything new.
There will be no realistic moving forward without first wrapping up this lengthy experiment of associating with the unreal and exploitive. Best the nation tribes do the same, calling out the globalists that plan to depopulate our planet, slowly, torturously, and sadistically. What has anyone to fear by not complying with a whorled wicked forum?
Theres nothing to fear. Dont comply.
Sometimes I sit with the bone of my eye holes resting in the palms of my hands, my elbows on my knees. Im looking into the black between the neuron fired strands of light that continue flashing even in the absence of stimulus. The retina carries on producing electrical charges even while at rest.
Sometimes while at rest, a feeling of loss overwhelms me, even in the absence of any external stimulus. The relay of sadness returns from what is gone and ungodly. Friends have suggested I change the channel, put this inquiry down. Its gut wrenching. Its upsetting.
Hey! Its human. Channeling AI isnt my thing.
To finally finish, it must come down to nothing left to defend. Thats when this show is over, when a holy place is exposed. When there is no past and no future. From that place the next mystery can begin.
I did feel for others in that tiny tribe of aspirants. I loved what seemed connective and genuine amongst us. Inside the bounds of a psychopaths cult, I had soft feelings for his people. They are all so gone now and feelings have turned to regret.
Genuine grief comes to a sharp point piercing with my brother being gone now. I had no idea what support he was until he wasnt anymore. Enduring has meant spending days in bed, unable to walk, unable to stand, my body symptomatic of a lost advocate. His sudden departure so ploughed my heart open in such a violent way, that all I really want to do for the rest of my life is love everything and everybody. Not always easy and I dont want to be an idiot about it.
In the hazy ways of time, it seems to have come all at once. Losing my community, a little tribe of spiritual seekers, and then losing my brother. I lost my tribe to a nut-job charlatan and my brother to a rogue black bear.
Thats just the news. Thats what we read each morning on our phones, Covid & Coffee, and a dozen other providers of actual news stories. Not the viral crap of the mainstream media, the bullhorns of little dictators. Who even watches those variants anymore?
Lost connections. Lost family. A sensation in the body begins to agitate and ache. Places inside where I once depended on people are loosed and reaching for what no longer exists. Alliances echo from a whole other dimension, disembodied. The bonds are stretched beyond capacity and busted up in the motorheads storm of damaging controls.
Who are we without a tribe? Who is anyone without relations to surround them? Locked down and alone better not happen again. Time has come to circle the wagons. Link arms together in what we value the most. It’s not a campaign, it’s an imperative. Otherwise the coked up psychopaths in the world cult continue with their ungodly agenda. Theyre changing channels so fast, people are dizzy and cant think straight anymore. Who can see clearly in the fractured flickers of in-formation?
Thank goodness they havent messed with the music. Although musicians are not immune— I mean, Joan Baez applauding Fauci’s crimes against humanity? Really?! Talk about her musical career skipping a page, that is a dispiriting turn.
Listen to Amen Omen and remember Ben Harpers presence. His red beanie. The amphitheatre in August. The night filled with candlelight held in thousands of human hands. His minimal set up with all that he needed at close reach. The sensation in the chest when he sang. The whole body opening up in the sound. Raw. Penetrating. Opening unendurable grief in us, maybe everyone. He went so far into the ways of human sorrow and uncertainty.
How is it we believe our loved ones lost? They continue! Transparent energies losing definition, nonetheless are tucked into some inner sanctum of the heart or mind or whatever contains an individuals psyche. Tenderly.
I keep my brother close. He is allowed to rise up anytime, free of logic or control, to be remembered, felt and met. I might lose myself in stretching for what once was. My centre unable to hold. Everything loosed inside the physical container while an unseen framework is breaking apart. Theres nothing to hang on to. I might be dying or caving into a netherworld where I sit resting, completely alone. My eye holes resting in the palms of my hands.
The body wants to weep but tears dont come. The contraction is there. The clutch in the throat. As if the physical body could reach for some resolve at a depth Im not comfortable in. I keep shying away from that place. I keep writing to get my courage up in order to get there. Gonna get there, gonna get there. Duncan would get that reference, if he were still here.
I imagined there would be something real in those so-called sacred bonds of the cult. I was permitted to imagine that. It was encouraged through the wonders of hypnosis and an echo chamber of people parroting the cult leader. So many ideas were planted in us about bonds of being and true relationship, all of it manufactured to keep us entangled with the selves he repeatedly alienated us from. Anything the motorhead said was the honest truth. Discrediting what was good in our selves was his daily playground.
I should use present tense, because it’s still happening, the secrecy, the victim blaming, the gaslighting, the fear of entities, and the disorganized attachment. The lies.
What perfect nature rescued me from believing all that rot? What natural force will intercede for the sake of human life on earth? In the midst of the kaleidoscopic human experience, what reaches down from unseen realms to pull us out of this shit show?
We all sat together for so long. Hours and hours of gazing and merging so we were mixed together and blended over time. The communion between myself and the others went deep, as if the others lived inside me. I realized that I am not only me but inclusive of anyone Im connected with. We were one being. I loved the possibility of it going further than what I was aware of. That there would be more power and grace in the more of us moving as one being, a laser light of truth cutting through all the darkness in the world. It came in flashes, the awareness of a small group of people congealing into one being. We were one and we were whole and we were up to something profound and good. Those moments were to die for. Awareness of many coming to a single point and vibrating in a magnificent communion.
Hannah Arendt would describe it differently and with different conclusions.
There is an age-old human craving for some otherworldly kind of connection, bonding with something to transcend an everyday existence. God. Angels. Whatever. A mass of consciousness coming to a single point. We put meaning to it. I imagined it was good to blend with many others into a single moving consciousness, where I was aware of everyone as one being and we were all meeting in a single perception that had no opposite. It was empowering. It was Truth.
Perhaps it was the hypnosis creating the sensational experience of being all one and whole within a messy phenomenal world. We experienced a certainty that was nailed down as Truth and Greater Reality.
Meanwhile in actuality, the phenomenal world keeps on changing and interacting and fracturing same as it ever was. In truth or reality there is no certainty, only movement and change. Physicists are wise to this, that the laws of physics can evolve and change over time. Different laws might even compete for effectiveness. An even more radical possibility, discussed by the physicist John Wheeler, is that every act of observation influences the future and even the past history of the universe.
Resting my eyes in my hands, reviewing my cult history, I know these words have some influence. By one account, people arent allowed to fraternize with anyone close to me. Evidently I have finally found my true role in that crazy cult.
All is told, but for the point I wanted to reach from the beginning. For anyone, gone, dead, or otherwise, an indisputable realization has snapped into place, a precious piece in the ever changing puzzles of this universe. The flip side of mass formation, best taken with a dose of autonomy and individual agency:
We are all here for each other.
Even the dastardly psychopaths play their ungodly roles, bringing us to our feet, to our senses, and to our hearts, still free to be human.
What does freedom mean to me? No fear.
Thank you, Jessica for your eloquence. you speak for all of us who wound up in the motor head penis cult!
Neptune and Saturn transiting Pieces, in the houses of home and happiness, trine to Uranus in the house of relationships = sudden dissolution of boundaries and structure, metamorphosis; on and in proximity to the 25th degree of transformation, so key to your natal chart (i.e., Neptune, North Node, Venus, Mars, and Pluto.)
One of my favorite mantras; "No Hope, No Fear, No Doubt." Leaves one with the certainty of the Now.