THE BIG WOO: Where are we now and what’s next?

December 8, 2021

By the time a child is eight months old, he or she already understands what a finger pointing to something or someone means. Not what that something is, but that someone is pointing to it in order to draw the child’s attention. In this way, pointing becomes a precursor to naming, the first function of language.

This post is more pointing than it is naming. Pointing at “the woo.” But what is “the woo”? I think of it as the great  unknown; that which makes up what Clif High denotes as “the materium.”

Each of us sits inside our own present moment, stretching our minds forwards and backwards in linear time,  wanting to predict “what’s going to happen next” and/or to return to or avoid “what’s already happened” — all of which resides outside ourselves, in the woo.  Or does it? Actually, one might say that the woo infects us all, inside too.

Though the woo has always been the unconscious ocean within which human constructions arise and fall, we didn’t realize it consciously. We took our constructions, visible and invisible, for granted. Obvious signs of trouble ahead  began in 2008, when Pluto went into Capricorn for the first time in 248 years and began its inexorable, undermining of the Capricorn structures that have held members of our society inside a certain framework of rules, laws, regulations, goals, methods, guarantees — multi-layered, both visible and invisible.

Even earlier, that framework had already begun to be identified, in 1999, with the release of the film called “The Matrix.”

Remove the matrix framework, and what is left? THE WOO! The “materium,” in which, as long as we are embodied, we all reside, and which we increasingly don’t know how to predict, control or comprehend. Rather, it’s as if we’ve been reduced to pointing, astonished, at the rapidly fluctuating passage of seeming events and implications flashing from everywhere to nowhere, all at once.

Thanks to the plandemic psy-op that followed the Saturn/Pluto conjunction in January 2020, our “normal” world has been dramatically upended, and at this point, nearly two years later, nearly one Mars cycle later, we are amazed to be actually somewhat accustomed to the idea that there will be no return to “normality.” That something new must be,—yea, will be — born from the chaotic conditions engulfing us. We can no longer trust that things will go as predicted if we just obey all the laws — not to mention the ever shifting, quixotic, deadening “mandates.” The institutions that we took for granted — governmental, economic, academic, media, medical, political, etc.— already shaken by Pluto’s entrance into Capricorn in 2008, are, since stern karmic Saturn conjuncted Pluto in Janauary 2020, being inexorably and systematically exposed as corrupt, bit by bit and accelerating — and, even so, we always ask, we can’t help but ask, it’s as if our very survival is at stake, and maybe it is: “Where are we now, and what’s next?!?”

A child’s version of this is more complete. Who am I, where did I come from, and where am I going? In order to know who I am, I need to have some kind of story that I tell about myself, how I got here from there. In order to know where I’m going, I need to create some kind of story line that gives me a way to proceed in a definite direction.

Each of us individually and all of us together, are now stuck in the rapidly accelerating and more and more absurdist and impossible-to-believe present moment; the stories we have told ourselves, both personal and cultural, about the past, are cancelling, dissolving into the woo. It’s not just statues that are being toppled. And if the past is no longer secure, then how can we secure the future?

The present moment, within 3D, is uncomfortable, in fact impossible. For the present moment, within 3D time, is just a point on a line, and, a point itself has no dimension! So, how can we BE HERE NOW, if that point, whatever it is, and it doesn’t exist, keeps dissolving?

I can remember, when we hippies used to intone, sanctimoniously — BE HERE NOW — and I’d always respond, “But the NOW can be large or small!” In other words, I was already operating within 5D, no longer stuck as a point on a line, but having opened into an internal spaciousness that included many lines, an infinite number of lines,  timelines, we call them now, crossing each other, canceling each other, buttressing each other — and it’s becoming more and more obvious in late 2021 that we don’t know where we’re going because we don’t know which timeline will get us there. Any number of timelines are in play, by both “black hats” and “white hats;” both the globalists, who are eager to erase our free will and our ensouled connection to source, by locking us down forever, turning us into transhuman AI robots, and those who invite us to recognize that we ARE free, that we have always been free, that freedom is our god-given right — and responsibility! That it’s always up to the sovereign individual to freely choose what’s next.

Given that introduction, I want to refer you to two videos, one by the ultra remarkable Clif High (he’s the one who has brought the concept of “the woo” into high relief, and who, at this point, is, to my mind, talking about what we’re all going through in ways that bend and blow what’s left of our old mental constructs), and another by Janine, a seasoned intuitive (with Moon in Scorpio, as she likes to point out, so she can “see through the layers”) who happens to use the symbolic language of the Tarot. Both are focused, in these and other videos, on aspects of “what’s next,” and both agree that it’s really not possible to say, at least in the short run, because it’s not clear which timeline will will get us there. 

Furthermore, both of them focus, in their own way, on what Clif calls the difference between static motion and active motion. The first tends to churn in place, and usually involves being scared, or mad, focusing on the negative, or waiting it out, taking no responsibility and blaming others; the second involves setting a strong intention of where you want to go, and stepping firmly out from there, no matter what’s going on around you, and even though you may feel, at first, like the proverbial Fool stepping off a cliff.

Note well: whatever timeline succeeds, will be formed from we have created, each of us with our individual intentions, joining together as one.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again. In my now nearly 79 years, I’ve proved to myself over and over again, ever since I woke up when I was 26 years old, that the universe can be trusted, because it never fails to bend in the direction of my intent — if, that is, my intent is that of my own sovereign soul, i.e., in accord with my own nature. 

(The opposite of “following my nature” would be to try to get what I want on a mere personality level, other people be damned. That’s called narcissism, and can shade into psychopathy. Those who try to control the universe with their will are ignoring, denying, or possibly even completely out of touch with their own souls, which leaves them open to functioning as puppets for those who would control them!)

As usual, during this critical, supremely fraught, indeed “biblical” moment in human history, during which the collective karma of 6000 years of human slavery is being dismantled, I remain centered in the self, connected to both above and below, opening through the heart and following the trail of synchronicities, the symbolism found in dreams, repeated encounters with wild animals, and so on. Over the past week, for example, ever since Neptune turned to go direct, I’ve encountered Hawk every single day on my walks with puppy Shadow. Hawk swooping close to me, or, on one occasion, Hawk sitting in a tree not 15 feet above me, looking at me, unblinking, for an eternity, until it took wing.

This close, daily encounter with Hawk has never occurred before, in my entire lifetime.

 

 

On the 80th Anniversary of Pearl Harbor: Reflections on the Aftermath of World War II and What Is Needed Now

December 7, 2021

December 7, 1941, 80 years ago today, the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and ignited the entrance of the U.S. into World War II. Most of us think it was a surprise attack, but was it really? Search duck duck go <was the Pearl Harbor attack really a surprise?> and see what you find.

But what I want to reflect upon here, is what we might think of as the unintended consequences of what happened once the war was over. But then again, were those consequences — still unfolding — really unintended? Another rabbit hole.

I speak here of the G.I. Bill, a magnanimous gift by a grateful nation for those who had served in that war.

From wikipedia: G.I. Bill

“Benefits included low-cost mortgages, low-interest loans to start a business or farm, one year of unemployment compensation, and dedicated payments of tuition and living expenses to attend high school, college, or vocational school. These benefits were available to all veterans who had been on active duty during the war years for at least 90 days and had not been dishonorably discharged.^[4]”

My Mom and Dad, for example, ended up moving with their children to the wilds of Idaho from Minnesota, where he had gone to medical school, and where Mom had lived all her life within reach of her two sisters and parents, all of whom were immensely helpful for her and her two small children while Dad was away during the war.

Mom spoke all her life, of the way her own mom cried when they left home, never to return, except for short visits.

My parents’ story was repeated endlessly by returning G.I.s as they moved away from their roots in extended family life for parts unknown, going to college far away and then settling often, in Levittowns, mile upon mile of new, soulless tract homes, where the women felt stuck inside and the men off to work. Thus was the “nuclear family” born, with each of those wives, many of them former Rosie the Riveters — forcefully re-indoctrinated, thanks to television advertising, to return to domesticity, cleaning spotless floors and proud of new appliances. 

The first hint of what would come next came with Betty Friedan’s book 1963 book, The Feminine Mystique, her identification of “the problem that has no name.”

I remember reading that book as a 21 year old, stuck inside our tiny apartment with an infant, and screaming internally. What has happened to my life? Why am I so unhappy? I did not want to be like my long-suffering mother, stuck inside the house all day.

By the mid-60s, (and the Uranus/Pluto conjunction in Virgo) the nuclear families, into which the children of G.I. Joe’s were born, began to explode, as the artificial boundaries around the nuclear family, lacking extended family context as well as meaningful social interaction — thanks to soulless suburban planning — began to fracture and transmogrify into a chaotic morass of broken families, broken homes, freshly “liberated” mothers going off to work, and traumatized children left home alone and unsupervised.

Just like with the mythology of Pearl Harbor, so too the “feminism” of the ’60s may also have been engineered, or, more likely steered, in a massive plot by the CIA to dissolve what remained of formerly resilient bonding of the extended family, by exploding the alreaady atomized nuclear family into even smaller units, each person on his or her own, rootless, alone, and ridden by the unconscious, free-floating anxiety that attends not being able to generate meaning or purpose from experience in life.

And as Dr. Desbet has analysed, it’s no wonder the cabal can use “the virus” to generate FEAR and thus isolate and lock us down. “The virus” gives us something “real” to fear, an object upon which to pin our free-floating anxiety, and thus comes as almost a relief! Moreover, by identifying with others who are vaxxed, we regain (fake) social cohesion!

It is well to remember: as long as we see ourselves as fundamentally “on our own, with no direction known,” (thank you, Bob Dylan) we will be susceptible to whatever they want to do to us.

Which is why the movement to return to village life has such appeal. Either building intentional community from scratch, or retrofitting within an existing suburb like we are doing here in Green Acres Permaculture Village. And, for those who are very very lucky, and soulless modern life has not mentally and/or emotionally divided their original families irreparably — to return to creating with our actual blood relatives that village life, buying property together, building upon it or repurposing it to recreate the bonds and mutual aid originally offered by extended family connectivity.

Either way, we begin to heal the damage done to the resilient mycellial networked web that village life and extended families had offered prior to World War II.

It’s time. Let’s go.  Once we recognize how the resilient, regenerative underlying mycellium of society was torn apart, atomized, and then exploded, leaving entire generations of children from broken homes to try to cope, we can begin to remember — to re-member ourselves, put ourselves back together again, as one planet, one people, organically organized into countless decentralized, networked symbiotic webs, nourishing the living tissue of the human species and our endosymbiotic relationship with planet Earth, one small body, in one small solar system, in one small galaxy, on out to the infinite reaches of the space both within and without. There is simply no end to the human imagination and creativity, once we grab hold of ourselves. Let’s go.

 

And remember, none of us is alone. Indeed, we are all-one!