SWIRLING THROUGH SYMBOLIC SYMPHONY: Sheldrake, Q, Geddes, Quantum Tumbler

June 24, 2025

Note: this post does not follow any logical progression, rather it loops . . . Not that I meant to do that, but something in me did . . .

 

Puppy Scampi and I took our usual four-mile walk early today, 6 to 7 AM. Glad I chose that hour.

What is it, Day Four of Heat Doom — oops, I meant Heat DOME — kinda reminds me of the supposed (failed?) Dome over Israel, and the Golden Dome Trump plans to install over America (including Canada, Mexico? who knows?).

Things have been heating up for some time now. Heating up within us, heating to the boiling point in the “external world.” .

Remember, re-member . . .

 

To illustrate: I personally, for about the past week, I have been experiencing a furious, but not yet fulminating boil on top of my left shoulder. Interesting. Symbolic meaning? Left: the receptive side, female, what I was wrestling with internally during the Midwest DUP this past weekend. (Some kind of poison needs to leave my body, and chooses the skin to do so. (Likely result of current heavy metal detox protocol.) Thank you, body, for your kind, brilliant allowing.)

The receptive female side of the whole world . . . listening to each other, appreciating each other, at every level . . . How do the Iranian people, or the Israeli people, or the American people, or the Syrian people, etc. etc. FEEL about our so-called “govern-ments.” Remember what the word means: govern the mind. Govern the mind, but not the heart. AI functions to mimic and amplify left brain functioning, but not right brain. Right brain, where we access the mysterious Source, through sudden intuitive messages that fly in from nowhere; these cannot be accessed by the left brain.

Logic, discursive mental off-on digital functioning, all left brain, accessible to AI. But even then, it all depends on the prompt one gives to the AI. And that’s a human function. Always will be, at the source. Martin Geddes has an interesting post today, that shows just how extraordinary AI can be, when combining  — what to call them? world-views? assumptions? — neither one feels appropriate, when talking about either “Q” or “morphic resonance.” Notice I said “feels,” part of right brain function. The feminine side of me beginning to rise to the occasion.

Over the past few weeks, ever since I found myself flabbergasted and fascinated by Quantum Tumbler, I have been looking back at “morphic resonance,” Rupert Sheldrake’s proposal that invisible overall frequency fields built by habits evolve through time.  This theory, much debunked by western science, has always fascinated me; my interest in astrology, in fact, began with an intuitive recognition that we are all immersed in fields of energy, many of which we do not understand, but simply live within. (As, it turns out, described by the long-cycled outer planets Uranus, Neptune, and Pluto.) These fields guide behavior; we humans are rather like birds flocking in a certain pattern and direction through the sky; or, closer to home: cars hurtling down the highway, flowing according to large signs on the sides or above, into some kind of resonant field that links us all without knowing it. Otherwise, there would be many more accidents! Think of it: how many times have you just trusted your body (your unconscious) with the driving, as your conscious mind wandered elsewhere? Sometimes, it’s as if we “wake up” when we near our destination. But all the while, morphic resonance kept us safely immersed in the larger frequency field that holds travelers without our even knowing it.

Back to Martin Geddes, his post today: fascinating!

Oh, and BTW: The much-maligned phenomenon of “Q,” much like morphic resonance, was another sudden signal to me of a Truth greater than my individual awareness. I discovered, and was immediately drawn to, the enigmatic Q posts in early November 2017, only a few days after they began to mysteriously drop into the frequency field we are all immersed in, whether or not we know it. And it was Martin Geddes on twitter who helped me make sense of the Q posts, back before he was involuntarily censored, dropped from that platform, leaving me, frankly, extremely disturbed: my first experience of current censorship protocols.

Here, finally, is that promised post:

Sheldrake on morphic resonance:

https://www.sheldrake.org/research/morphic-resonance/introduction

 

Martin Geddes on Q

https://www.martingedd.es/onq/

 

Quantum Tumbler:

https://threadreaderapp.com/user/QuantumTumbler

 

 

 

The Beauty (of the Dances) and the Beast (within Me): DRAGON SLAYING!

June 23, 2025

Monday morning, “time to start again,” I said to myself I as I went to my computer and found the mouse not working. Oops! Given the extreme heat I wasn’t going to walk to nearby Best Buy. I had already walked with puppy Scampi, 6:30 to 7:30 AM. Wanted to both avoid the heat and to get home in time for the new handyman who had promised to take a skinny pine tree down that was brushing the porch roof at 8:00 AM Monday. Great! I had finally found a handyman! Really liked him!

But then he didn’t show up. Nor did he call to cancel He just cancelled — ME!.

Okay. Start over — and try not to be pissed. Who knows what he’s going through?

So I drove to nearby Dollar Store and got more batteries, figuring that was the problem. It was not. So I drove to nearby Best buy with the old mouse and batteries, and the little thingie that plugs it into the computer.

Clerk there very helpful. We spent quite some time trying to figure out the problem. He thought cheap Dollar Store batteries might be the problem. Okay. Bought more expensive batteries there and drove home. His advice: try that before buying another mouse.

Okay. Came home again and put new battery in mouse (or is it “modem”?). Nope. Still does’t work.

Back to Best Buy. This time this same clerk and I focused on maybe it actually was the mouse itself. How long have I had this mouse? Not sure. A year or two. Well “that’s about as long as they last.” Got another mouse to replace the old one and gave the old one plus two little thingies (one from an even older mouse) that plug into the computer and asked him to recycled them). Okay.

Drove home again, got the new mouse out of the box. Where is the little thingie that goes with it! Not in the box! WHAT??? Hard to believe . . .

Third time’s “charm?” Well, on this occasion, third time was a joke. I arrived back at Best Buy, this time hauling my computer with me too — and the same clerk was still available! Good. He was as flummoxed as I over the missing little thingie . . . but then his face suddenly lit up! He opened up the new mouse itself, and noticed that the little thingie was stored inside it.

In the end all I could do was laugh. We both laughed. Problem solved, plus I got to connect with a very decent human being!

That is one story I tell to preface this post that supposedly concentrates on the Dances of Universal Peace weekend. There are two other stories, both also frustrating, even scary, especially the second one, to contrast with the very fruitful experience of the weekend. Fruitful, for me, personally, in terms of processing my recent struggle with my age-old difficulty in accepting, balancing, and integrating the male and female aspects of my own being. Regarding that DUP experience, let me just say that apparently I needed the singing/dancing immersion in communion with others to process all sorts of memories that suddenly rose up, full force, while I was dancing and singing with them. In other words, what was going on inside me was totally antithetic to what we were doing and being together. To some extent, this has always been true for me. Whenever I dance with the DUP I find myself noticing, fighting, and integrating aspects of my own unruly ego. (Is this true for everybody?)

Okay. So here I am. To begin again, on Monday morning after. The story of the modem (mouse?) and the thingie is not the only one I could tell to contrast with the very fruitful experience of this last weekend. Very fruitful for me personally, in terms of integrating parts of myself that always threaten to take me down. Know that there were also huge dramas, both coming and going from Fort Wayne (supposedly less than four hours from Bloomington IN). Both going and coming, I had to slay the dragon on the way.

Here’s what happened on the way back: imagine this scene.

I’m in the car with Melinda, a local woman who had asked to come with me, and who has never used GPS. Before this trip, I had been so wrapped up with other responsibilities that I had asked her to get directions; but she only has a flip phone, so had to write out directions her sister gave her. We did get lost. The four hour trip took closer to six.

Then, on our return, imagine this scene: we are in the car, this time with active GPS, so that problem solved (I had a young woman there set it up on my phone). However, Melinda is leary of GPS, something she has no experience of, and her anxiety runs high.

(Meanwhile, I’m in much better shape now that the weekend is over than I was after our trip up, when I knew that unless I was very very careful, I would get sick.

I did not get sick, and I think largely this has to do with the wonderful frequency field created by the dancers as we wove our way through each others’ arms, gazing through each others’ eyes to the soul , while singing Sufi and other songs and chants to invoke the presence of the divine.)

Okay. The return trip. I was concerned about it due to the forecast of high temps and humidity. But not overly worried. Somehow, our extended group experience had invoked the presence within myself, so that I felt like a forest tree rooted into the ground. Nothing, nothing, would be too much. I could handle anything! I knew that. Though I didn’t know what “anything” would entail.

Okay, picture this: we’re on our way round the east side of Indianapolis in Sunday traffic on a gigantic highway with five lanes in each direction, walled on both sides so that there was no way to get off the road. And the temperature outside was 95°. (Air-conditioning in car working). Traffic slows down, as GPS had warned us it would, though this was supposedly still the fastest route. Slows down more. Slows to a stop. Then, every few minutes, inches forward. Like I imagine all the other drivers, I’m trying to peer around the side, to see how long this will last.

As far as the eye can see.

All in all the traffic was drastically slowed, stopped, etc. for one full hour on a very hot day, during which we crawled forward a total of one half mile.

During this entire time, Melinda was becoming so anxious she thought she was going to throw up. Or that we would run out of gas. (That worry deserves another story, which I don’t have time or energy to tell.) Or that she would need to pee and there was no say to get off the road to do so.

She kept voicing her fears; I kept reassuring her, but meanwhile, sharing the same concerns, even making plans to grab something to put under my butt if I did have to pee — and just do it if necessary.

But here’s the difference: the way up to Fort Wayne disturbed my nervous system to the point of collapse. The way back? Thanks to the Dances, somehow I knew we would be okay, no matter what.

Meanwhile, here are three photos, just to give the vibe.