DANCING THE FUTURE

Quoted from Joseph Epes Brown’s “The Spiritual Legacy of the American Indian,

“We do not believe our religion, we dance it.”

Indigenous peoples have valued the connection to natural rhythms rather than progress, sense and wisdom above intellect and experience over speed, in other words, the elements of human existence placed in exactly opposite order than our homogenous techno culture.

What is indigenous? The Random House dictionary says; “innate, inherent, natural, originating in a certain place”. All humans innately share this condition with the plants and animals of our common planet. However, when we refer to indigenous peoples, we generally mean those who still identify with the sheltering canapé of Mother Earth whereas non-indigenous refers to those who identify with abstract things like technology, progress and money, and yet, it may actually be about a state of balance.

However, perhaps there are not many truly indigenous people left who are living their traditional lifestyle.  It may be that indigenous vs. non-indigenous is now a separation of the heart existing within communities as well as inside of individuals more than an accurate distinction between cultural groups. That does not mean it is not important to recognize the existence of indigenous cultures. However, the non-indigenous world is continually squeezing, tugging, and seducing indigenous people. On the other side, the non-indigenous world has an increased yearning for connection to the essence and rhythms of the planet they live on. Even more intimate than a somewhat abstract idea such as planet is the inescapably indigenous body we each wear on this earth walk.  Of course, indigenous people do not use a stagnant word such as “planet” but an intimately personal word such as Mother Earth that describes an organic relationship with one’s environment. 

As my monkey mind plots how to come up with the means for an iPhone 5, it occurs to me that technology is getting more advanced every season while its applications are becoming regressively trivial and simple minded. It is now on about the same level of trendy unconsciousness as skinny-legged jeans. Image has replaced authentic personal experience. That is a tired truism, but I remember the love and mojo I once put into the simple toys of my childhood.  I had a personal relationship with them to the degree that I made them more than lifeless objects. How often do modern people experience that all things are alive and full of “Medicine?”  We can even infuse Inanimate objects with life through our own emotional creativity and focus. However, I must admit that computers seem to have life although they usually express this with renegade behavior.  Perhaps it’s our own cleverness thrown back at us; computer as trickster.

Unfortunately, our wonderful world of technology drives onward with an impossible supposition.  We are like termites eating away the house we live in.   I think this modern technological society operates with the mind of an adolescent male, very smart, fascinated with its own newly discovered powers, loads of ingenuity, myopic self- absorption and no consciousness beyond his personal drives and ambitions. I recently read an article on a breakthrough in the ability to get DNA samples from Neanderthal bones.  The article stated that the probable next step would be to clone a Neanderthal. This is hopefully years away, but just the thought pulled my chain. The scary part of this thought was that it was shockingly fascinating.  This is the adolescent techy in me.  The wiser side sees potential horror in such a possibility.  How would we treat such an individual? How would this person live with our chemicals artificial environment and modern bacteria? Even more important, how would such an individual live without community of his/her own kind, completely out of time context and environment.

With all the fuss about the Mayan calculations ending our planetary time cycle at 2012, one could surmise that there is mass yearning for a cosmically fabricated new beginning and death of the old is the first step.  On some level of repressed awareness is the knowledge that the party cannot go on forever, and it is running out of fuel anyway.   Maybe the earth’s climates will change drastically due to global warming and just maybe we need something to” knock us up a notch” into an entirely different reality.  Do you suppose that explains some of the fascination with cosmic Disaster and alien takeover movies? Are we looking for someone or something to end our discordant world so that we can start a new song in a different key?

I have been doing some fall cleaning (it is more natural than spring-cleaning). I found a message that I printed from the internet in 10/09/2000:

A HOPI ELDER SPEAKS

You have been telling the people that this is the Eleventh Hour,

Now you must go back and tell the people that this is the Hour.

There are things to be considered.

Where are you living?

 What are you doing?

What are your relationships?

Are you in right relation?

Where is your water?

Know your garden.

It is time to speak your Truth.

Create your community.

Be good to each other.

And do not look outside yourself for the leader.

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled and said,

This could be a good time!

There is a river flowing now very fast.  It is so great and swift, that there are those who will be afraid.  They will try to hold on to the shore.  They will feel they are being torn apart and will suffer greatly.  Know the river has its destination.  The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, and keep our eyes open and our heads above the water.  And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally.  Least of all ourselves, for the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.  The time of the lone wolf is over.  Gather yourselves! Banish the word struggle from your attitude and your vocabulary.  All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

WE ARE THE ONES WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR!

Oraibi, Arizona

Hopi Nation

Eee haa! Here we go, like it or not, Mother Earth is calling us to the hoedown, and we must dance or we will fall. When Pba-Quen-Nee-e’s people perform their seasonal dances, he explains, “our feet massage Mother Earth.” That is prayer.

ONE YEAR ON THE JOURNEY- The Medicine of Time and Circumstance

Our first wedding anniversary is in two weeks. Time flies after fifty and so it seems as if our wedding took place about three weeks ago.  There are gifts that we have not yet integrated into our Taos house because we were hoping we would have a place in Arizona to put them by this time, a new home for our new start on life, or something like that.  However, this summer since coming back from Arizona in mid-July has been especially rich with simpatico people and activities here in New Mexico. 

Certainly, every year has a style and flavor of its own.  I am beginning to see life as a novel that unfolds chapter by chapter.  Each chapter not only brings the story closer to its conclusion but also, subtly changes the meaning of all the previous chapters.  It is not so much a linear journey like a story but a work of art, for example a sculpture that begins as raw stone or a lump of clay and then details are added not one chapter at a time but overall so that the form inches toward completion with each session of the creative process. A year, for example, is like a session in the studio. I am mixing my metaphors here, but that is how it seems to happen. The story unfolds not on a timeline word by word but in 3D much like a sculpture created in both time and space.  The story reveals its essence not at the beginning but the moment we understand its completion. 

Another example of seeing the progression of life through time is a kaleidoscope.  While the pieces of a life remain the same, the kaleidoscope of time turns season to season, year by year and the pattern changes with each turn although the elements remain the same. 

Fall Chamisa: ours is the only chamisa in Chamisa Mesa

Here we are having our morning coffee on the patio again. It is still and bright with the sharp colors of early fall. Although fall isn’t official yet, we have passed that particular day each year that marks the border crossing from summer to fall.  It’s as if the earth sighs and slows down, the colors become richer, the surrounding scenery settles to a slower pace and a characteristic stillness settles in. Only the sound of the wings of hummingbird moths and grasshopper jumps indicate that life is still in movement this morning. 

Oh yes, there is one other thing. Yesterday we heard meows coming from our neighbor’s yard. As we are a veritable feline highway, I didn’t think much about this. Sometimes they visit in the morning and then move on. However, this time was different and this cat is different. I said “kitty?” in response to the unfamiliar meow and he came bounding through the latia fence. He is a youngster, perhaps four months old and he wants to stay with us. He is almost pure white with the faintest of tabby markings on his head and tail, very friendly and obviously well cared for.  He is smart too.  I’m thinking he may be abandoned or perhaps he doesn’t like his family for some reason, such as another animal that doesn’t welcome his presence in the family. Whatever his story is, he is now our problem.

The Dilemma!

  In the past, I would have welcomed him into the family but we travel. Another expense is not feasible and life is complicated enough. PQ is adamant about staying pet free so I’m thinking about how to deal with this new dilemma.  Cats are among my favorite people but having one in the family certainly complicates life. My metaphysical self is wondering if this white kitten is a sign or message of some kind.  Probably not, probably just a kitty looking for a home, but its worrisome. His ears and face are shaped like those in Egyptian cat sculptures. This reminds me that I have always avoided Egyptian references. Egypt and its magic are dull in my heart like something that is drugged and heavy. Trauma often hides from memory or is deprived of importance, and sacred wounds hide behind this kind of devaluing. “Oh, that wasn’t very important, I barely remember it.”

I am discovering that Medicine is all around us. It is power limited only by what we make of it.  In other words, our power of reception and integration determines the power of our experiences. Ancient alchemists knew this within the metaphoric ceremony of turning lead into gold, base metal into an earthly representation of the sun, source of life force, constantly cycling through darkness into everything that is. 

Retrieving the soul, mining for this gold is a lifelong endeavor. The Sun is god because god is the sun. Do you get it? We are all children of light with dirty feet. But, that’s OK. Find your Medicine Stories, find your medicine and find your Central Sun.

THE MOUNTAIN MEADOW IN MY SOUL

We have now been back in Taos for over a month. The damage done by two months of drought are healing.  Some of the flowers are blooming and others have new buds.  I have allowed the grass to grow and it is now a mountain meadow.  I am actually reluctant to mow it.  The mountain meadow look is growing on me. I lent our lawnmower to the kids and that was an excuse for a while, but now something has changed in the gardener herself, and it doesn’t seem like an uncut lawn anymore. 

Author, Dowser and Blogger, Robert Egby sent me a copy of his new book called “Holy Dirt, Sacred Earth.” It is a book on exploring the energy of Taos and Nuevo Mexico El Norte through dowsing.  Much to my surprise, he paid me the honor of including my blog entry on the Turtle Dance at Taos Pueblo.

Medicine Man & Mountain Spirit by Marti White Deer Song

Reading this book reawakened my thoughts about earth energies-what they are, and what they are not. One of the things I have taken for granted about Taos, is that the energies can be worlds and perhaps dimensions apart from one micro- area to another. Since I am talking about a small chunk of Northern New Mexico, this is a phenomenon in itself.

The thing about the meadow look in my yard is that something energetically new has appeared, or perhaps it is just more noticeable. When we drive into our cul-de-sac from the post office or grocery store, this particular property stands out as an island among the other houses.  I am not just bragging, it really isn’t the same kind of energy.  It’s always been different, but before I attributed the difference to the fact that I like to garden.  I don’t have enough money to spend on fertilizers and insecticides, so it’s always been subject to nature’s whims, but something has changed.

Is it possible that our own energy is capable of influencing nature?  Why not!  When I first moved into this place, I noticed its unusual clarity and light.  It was a different country than upper Ranchitos with its big trees and green fields, even though there was only a five-mile difference.  I was disappointed when Habitat for Humanity chose a tumbleweed infested dry lot with houses on both sides on which to build my house.  I wanted one with a clear view to Taos Mountain, but now I realize there is a direct line of energy flowing down from the mountains at the entry to Taos Canyon that sweeps directly through the lot where this house is.   

I put a flagstone patio behind the house and planted two trees and a chamisa shrub there the first year.  The trees have almost doubled their size each year. The best energy is directly behind the house. I recognized this right away but didn’t consciously identify it. It just seemed like a place that felt timeless, safe and bright. The colors are more intense, the air lighter and the sky closer in this spot. It’s also an excellent place to watch clouds, the great cumulus and heavy thunderheads come down the canyon on their daily trip west to sunset.

What I’m suggesting is that earth energies often consist of a dialogue between natural forces and human responses.  Perhaps that’s why the Taos Pueblo people chose to live at the base of the magical mountain that rises to their northeast.  Not only does the mountain empower them, but they also focus and accentuate the mountain’s forces.  There is also something trans- dimensional about the relationship between beings and places.  In this sense, we live with a foot in each dimension even if we aren’t conscious of it.

Our Sacred Mountain at Play During Powwow

The Taos Pueblo people are notoriously secretive and protective concerning their beliefs and spiritual connections.  Outsiders, especially those of European descent have such a different concept of nature and spirituality that they find this secrecy both incomprehensible and frustrating.  Although I don’t ask my Taos Pueblo husband about the meanings of beliefs and practices, I can imagine that such inquiries are in the category of improperly probing with personal intimate questions at a first meeting.  The conquistador mentality lies very deep and often masquerades as curiosity.  

I’ve long marveled at how quickly a home deteriorates after it is vacated.  Within a few months, it begins to breakdown on its way back to nature, but not the same form of nature that existed in that spot before it was domesticated.  It may take many years before the gone bad human energy fades away into the earth.  After a visit to Glastonbury England, I noticed that sometimes it takes hundreds of years to reconstitute an area.

Now I’m remembering an apartment I once lived in.  It was convenient, cute and I felt safe there in spite of its location in the center of a sometimes dangerous neighborhood. There was one corner where I kept potted plants.  It seemed good, well lit, yet without burning sun.  However, nothing would grow there. I  didn’t really notice this until I moved.  In their new location, the plants suddenly took off and doubled in size within a month.  This was my first experience of the importance of invisible energies or their absence.

This concept of a partnership with natural energies as a basis for relating to the environment, life itself and spiritual awareness is a topic I will continue to explore. The dangerous relationship that civilized folk have with the world that sustains them is typically dumbed down. Much of the time, we are like domestic dogs full of runaway confusion.  Alienated from their origins they are far more dangerous than wolves following the laws of nature. We destroy our own sustenance with no awareness that we are inter-dimensional beings, children of Mother Earth and Father Sky and every thought and action flows into every dimension like pebbles dropped in a lake.

ICONS OF TIMES PAST

Somebody rang my phone at 2:30 am this morning.  It was a wrong number but it took me a long time to go back to sleep.  Memories started parading by and it occurred to me that unless I wrote some of them down they will be lost in a decaying pile of past events too far gone for identification, much like the old movies that get lost in some Hollywood warehouse. 

When you are our age there are so many events struggling for dwindling memory space. However, some memories are iconic and losing them diminishes the value of one’s personal journey. The introductory opening to what I consider my current stage of life is the movie that played first in these wee hours. 

It started when I came back from Denver to Taos late in September 2005 after helping my mom wrap up the sale of her home of 59 years.   Of course, there was a lot more to it than that, and all the connected pieces bobbed to the surface at once.  This Habitat for Humanity house that PQ and I live in now was then still under construction and before leaving for Denver, I struggled to acquire a few more of the required hours of labor by painting the inside of all the closets and corners and edges in both bedrooms. I hurried but didn’t have time to start the living room.  I sensed that I wouldn’t have another chance to work on my house for an indefinite period of time. Since there wasn’t any running water yet, I brought  a bucket of water along to rinse the brushes. This simple event clings to my memory even though the facts are trivia.

I can still feel the rocks in my stomach, as I headed out to take on the unavoidable monster of change, a dragon that dwelt on the other side of this big mountain that I was in no condition to climb. PQ’s father, Joe J. Suazo, whom we all called dad had just been admitted to Holy Cross Hospital. We all knew it was serious. He barely recognized his dear friend Diane, who made a special trip back to Taos to see him, and as I looked through the window behind him at the colorful Taos sunset, I found myself praying that I would make it back before he passed. Then I left for Denver.

Mom’s move was everything I dreaded it would be plus a few things I didn’t anticipate. We only had three weeks to undo 59 years of memory and accumulation. After that loomed the task of setting her up in her new digs. I took the two cats along because I knew the stay would be indefinite. I had some help here and there from my Cousins, but they had other things to attend, like jobs and families. I wasn’t ready for this ordeal but as an only child, I was automatically responsible for this project. Have you ever noticed that life changes don’t come in orderly progression but pile up like snow on an avalanche prone mountainside?

Next came a blur of disorganized memory clips. One was the yard sale with sadly disappointing results due to changes in the neighborhood during the 14 years since holding a similar sale before my move to Taos. Mom had a lot of nice stuff, but not many buyers came to this sale.  We ended up leaving most of her belongings in the garage for the new owners to dispose of as they pleased. In Taos, I still lived in the small old Adobe Casita on Upper Ranchitos and certainly couldn’t afford to move this stuff to Taos and rent storage space. Thankfully, mom decided to rent a storage space in Denver so that I would have some needed furniture when my Habitat house was finished.  

My dear friend Rachel helped clean mom’s two refrigerators and the a freezer full of  five-year-old peaches and long expired items bought on sale for a future that never came. We took items from old cabinets, closets and storage sheds, carried what seemed like hundreds of trash bags to the street for trash pickup, and found a seller of used books willing to go through a library that contained lots of mom's Christian literature that he didn’t take, and lots of books that I had collected before leaving home. In the desperation of a time crunch, I had to let many things go that I once looked forward to someday owning. Among these was a collection of National Geographic magazines dating back to 1949. At one time the basement flooded and I took the pages apart one by one to save them.  But this time I had to let go and leave them to an unknown fate.

I drew a furniture layout for her new apartment, and with the help of my cousin’s husband and grandson, moved her in. Then I met the movers at the old place to deal with everything that went to storage.Forgive me if I brag about how well I planned out her new apartment, it was one of the few things that came out right and gave me the courage to keep going.

I’m just now recalling what it was like going through many files and desk drawers for anything that might be important. Several times, I suffered brain freeze in the presence of years of accumulated papers. After that came the task of setting up new accounts and closing old ones.  I got a cell phone for mom so that we could stay in touch with each other and all the people involved in both the move and setting up the new apartment. 

 Mom’s old house lay on half an acre of land, with a garage, a full basement, an attic and three outbuildings full of dad’s tools, mowers, power tools and junk that he thought he might have use for someday. While cleaning out the garage I discovered that if dad couldn’t find a tool he bought another one.  There were multiple screwdrivers, hammers, saws and blades, plus canning jars in half a dozen places full of screws and nails of every size. To complicate things, our restless relatives tended to leave furniture and other items that didn’t fit in their current abode with mom and dad to store until needed in a time that never came, and then there were grandma’s things that no one had gone through since she passed.

My cats had a nervous breakdown. This house had always been their home away from home and as sure as if a tornado struck it was coming apart.  Rugs were jerked from under them, their favorite chairs suddenly disappeared and strange loud men stomped through the house carrying frightful boxes.  I decided to sacrifice the bed in my old bedroom to the new owners because it was the only place left for Joe and Missy to hide. Missy never fully recovered from this kitty hell. She went down rapidly afterwards, lost weight, looked scraggly and started peeing on the carpet when we got back to our Taos casita. Both of them were edgy about every move I made for a long time.  Now I can admit that I felt just as devastated as they did. Like small children, animals act out the true state of things.

My life's original skin was peeling away and my emotions were in the turmoil of fear, grief and ecstasy. It was a kind of death and reincarnation experience, but not a gentle one. Remembering this time, I can now see that every scene was a hologram of my entire life and I chose this theme to write about because it chose me last night.

Finally, we all moved over to the new apartment. I remember that night feeling like the strange calm after a disaster when you discover that you are still alive and it’s time to give thanks and start over.  We stopped at a pet store on the way to the new apartment and I purchased a kitty bed and some catnip to put under the new bed.  Mom held Missy on her lap while I was in the store. They always got along well and I could see that it was comforting to both of them. Joe crouched in a corner of the van, eyes wide with fear and confusion. Finally, it was over.  Oops, not quite!  Although I’d mentioned it several times, mom forgot to leave the old house keys for the new owners.  After dropping off her and the cats, I had to go back to the old house and place its key under the front door mat.

The next night Linda called to say I’d better get back to Taos as soon as possible. Dad, (Joe J. Suazo) was beginning his final journey.  When I arrived in Taos, I dropped the cats off at the casita and drove immediately to PQ’s house on the reservation where Mom and Dad had been staying since he left the hospital. However, he’d already asked the family to take him to the pueblo house to make his transition to the mountain.  When I arrived there, he was no longer conscious but his spirit filled the room surrounding the friends and family gathered in that ancient living room. 

Two transitions emerged on this sleepless night, and now that I’ve honored the process and  memory, it occurs to me that there are micro lives within the life of one being.  Perhaps it is an illusion that there is even a single life. There are so many changes from infancy to old age.  Only the chain of memory holds them together so that we can tell our stories.

BLACK SMOKE BEINGS

This is about an event that some of you might think a bit woo woo. It isn’t the first time I’ve written about the Black Smoke Beings, either, but I’ve been seeing them from a new angle.  I don’t have a firm opinion about the source of the following experiences but they make sense to me in terms of what I learned from them. Even better, I’m continuing to learn from them.

Black smoke isn’t solid but it is opaque and physical.  You can’t see through it but you can easily put your hand through it.  On a sleepless night some years ago when I was experiencing ongoing disturbances that morphed into many forms and could justifiably be termed psychic attack, I had a startling encounter with some entities I came to call the Black Smoke Beings. However, it turned out to be more enlightening than frightening.

 But, other scary things had been happening around the same time as the Black Smoke Beings. For example, one night I had just turned out the lights and pulled up the covers when the blankets tried to strangle me.  I fought them/ it off and stopped the attack but the silence and still that enveloped the room afterward was anything but peaceful. On another occasion, large dragonfly like creatures flew in circles around the living room and I froze unable to move a muscle. Now, I normally like dragonflies but these weren’t normal, they were huge, and dragonflies don’t fly in circles around people’s living rooms after the sun goes down, generally speaking. I had been lying on the sofa watching TV when this happened. My cats were also alarmed whenever one of these events occurred. However, they, especially Joe, seemed to see beings that I couldn’t see and he often alerted me that one of these adventures was about to begin.

Then one night I saw the Black Smoke Beings. They were shocked and flustered at being caught in action but it was too late to disappear when they realized that I’d actually seen them. Then lifetimes of tangled distorted communications, frustration, anger and fear flashed by like a movie.  It isn’t easy to write about the actual event because generations of interference and meddling in human affairs were revealed in a few seconds the way a lightning flash at night illumines everything but is gone in a nano-second. I could see and hear people from other times, and generations, even family members for generations back trying to communicate with each other but their intended communication was scrambled and distorted resulting in frustration, suspicion, anger and misunderstanding. The resulting emotional energy charge was the food these Black Smoke Beings lived on. They were not doing evil just to be evil; they were indifferent to the outcome. Negative emotion was their food.  Not only that but their victims became addicted to negative feelings as well. It gave them a rush of self-righteousness and self-pity.

These beings seemed to acquire ever more definition from the negative emotions they fed on as they become substantial in their own right. They now had a semi-independent existence that depended on being undiscovered. For quite a while after this experience, I would notice people in town with these demi-beings attached.  Some penetrated and encompassed by a dense charcoal grey heaviness, while others were clouded but not totally saturated.

This experience made me wonder if we don’t have more conjuring power than we realize.  Even if you believe that demons are genuine beings, I wonder how much we have to do with empowering if not co-creating destructive entities. Dark and light are metaphoric terms for the forces that stir the powers of creation and provide the contrast of reality. The condition for either creation or destruction is always present, but the important difference is focus.  These are part of the same process but metaphorically, creation is the noun, destruction is the verb. Evil is always dependent on creative forces. The Black Smoke Beings feared for their lives when I saw them, but I’m now wondering if their power isn’t something that can be switched to positive with the right gesture. Nevertheless, they serve a purpose and perhaps we are as reluctant to give them up as they are to go?

PQ and I have been watching documentaries lately having to do with economic and environmental crisis and the role played by secret societies with intent to rule this world and beyond. Perhaps these beings are in cohort with secret societies such as the illuminati and their minions, Reptilians, ET’s, or just the human greed and power factor minding its own interests.

There is global warming, economic collapse and the reality that we will eventually run out of oil and other finite resources. Those guys in charge of the eventual collapse of our resources may be already planning to go to Mars before disaster becomes eminent. As far as I’m concerned they are welcome to do so, and why wait so long.  However, you can be sure that poor folks won’t get an invitation to go along.

Wars, famines, economic crisis and political turmoil keep we humans occupied with external problems so we won’t notice that we are slaves to a system that can’t possibly work indefinitely.  Nevertheless, I’m not one hundred percent worried about this. The parasites will leave one way or another. After all, this planet has survived countless crisis and the dark forces are not immune to their own poison. 

Most of us like to believe that there are bad guys out there ruining things for everyone else. But the good folks are pretty good at undoing themselves.  I’ve noticed that spiritually based idealistic intentional communities have a short lifespan while organizations based on greed and capitalism last much longer. I sadly remember the demise of a school I once attended in Boulder during the 80’s.  It had everything I wanted. The instructors and students were all highly educated independent thinkers as well as gifted and dedicated people.  It taught holistic and natural healing methods, Transpersonal Psychology, group dynamics, and esoteric arts such as the Western Mystery Tradition, Eastern modalities, astrology and Tarot all from a multifaceted perspective of alternative history and philosophy. But it all fell hard onto Terra Firma shattered to pieces due to interpersonal conflicts and economic mishandling.  In the last phase of collapse the infighting was worthy of 13 year old girls. Were the dark forces bringing it down through psychic attack and implanted interference like the Black Smoke Beings?  Maybe, but why don’t idealistic spiritual people recognize that they are the one’s listening to that stuff? Divide and conquer isn’t a new concept.

Few people like to hear it but idealism is the refined sugar of the spirit and too much of it is bad for you.  Balance is better.  The dark forces are good at identifying weaknesses. It goes back to one of my favorite sayings which I think is of Sufi origin: “The Devil is God’s most Humble Servant.”  The dark ones take a lot of blame for the results of our narcissistic and naive state.   Global warming, 2012 predictions of “the buck stops here,” economic stupidity, failure to acknowledge that we are running out of natural resources and all other doomsday predictions are also a push to fix the basic problem, a desire to ignore the obvious. People tend to get smarter when they run out of other options.

Some years ago, I read an interview with C. G. Jung taken shortly after WWII. The interviewer asked Dr. Jung if he thought modern civilization with the A and H-bombs could overcome the human predilection for projecting its shadow side onto the other before bringing about mass extinction. Dr. Jung answered that he regrettably doubted it because individuals are rarely able to see in themselves the evil they project onto others and the mass consciousness of an entire nation was even more primitive than the consciousness of its individual citizens. (This is the drift of the contents, not the exact words.)

However, there is evidence that we humans are not entirely in charge of our fate or the fate of this planet. Unforeseen events and circumstances pop up regularly in history.   Although the official teaching of our time is that nature or Mother Earth is without consciousness and is merely a stage set for the unfolding of the human drama, there seems to be something that prevents Mother Earth’s kids from going beyond a certain level with uncontrolled hubris. The modern mindset assumes that there is no inside connection between our environment and what we do with it. History and possibly prehistory abounds with stories of civilizations that have become completely unbalanced to the point of either self-destruction or destruction by nature or enemy. Maybe this explains the popularity of Si-Fi movies about Alien Invasion, and mysterious uncontrollable diseases, as well as the cautionary stories about the demise of Atlantis and Lemuria.  

Before any final act of destruction, the planet may get rid of us with our own unconscious collaboration. Or else, we may find ourselves thrown back to an earlier level of technology. Somehow, we all got here now even though our ancestors didn’t have petrol, plastic, iPhones or cloud computing.  Maybe the best scenario yet, would be a return to karma school to study a better way to use technology with an entirely different motive. Humans have become smarter through the ages but not wiser.  The Black Smoke Beings and their ilk are not nice but they catch us at our stuff. Predators cause their prey to become smarter should it survive, and maybe our species will even be “knocked up a notch” and discover wisdom.