CON-SIDER ASTROLOGY (Before It’s Too Late)

September 20, 2021

 

Each afternoon I disappear into my Recapitulation Project (finding, revisiting, retyping, listing on a spreadsheet and working to turn into google docs, all for inclusion on an archival site as my “legacy”). With 456 items already catalogued, today I read through this unpublished 1986 essay and wonder, aside from our deepening alienation/atomization via technology, what has changed?

And here we are, two days prior to Autumn Equinox (9/22/21, 3:22 PM EDT); how many recognize and honor the annual phenomenon of this seasonal ephemeral balancing act that heralds the coming dark?  

 

CON-SIDER ASTROLOGY (Before It’s Too Late)

 

I once spent twenty four hours in a Las Vegas casino. Where lights shine bright, all through the night. Robbed of the mystery of darkness, there is only the dazzle of day.

Much the same experience is given to us in cities. There, street lights, glowing, serve as small suns.

We have Thomas Edison and Nicola Tesla to thank for this human alteration in nature’s affairs. Day and night, the swelling of day in the spring, of night in the fall, need not be noticed now. We can stay up all night all year long, thanks to these men’s inventions.

Indeed, our cities’ buildings are tall, closely spaced, and often enveloped in smog. The starry night sky is barely visible, with or without street lights.

Our inventions extend our range and our power. And they disrupt our original relation with the natural world. We have electric lights now; we have turned away from the stars.

The word “disaster” comes from the Latin “dis-aster,” “to turn away from the stars.”

 

When I was growing up, our wrist watches showed the relative sweeps of the second hand, the minute hand, the hour. Now our clocks are digital; they tick the time with no reference, no context. Each second exists apart from any other second. Each one a point suspended within infinite space. The alienation, the atomization, the fission of the human race proceeds from such trivial details.

I just bought a digital watch. Made in Hong Kong. Three dollars and seven cents, including tax. My first watch since high school, class of 1960.

Back then time still moved in swelling crescendos. We were teenagers, we surged with life.

How many of my peers move in digital time, they are robots, keeping time, wasting time, saving time, losing time, gaining time, dead to the life within. Others are dying, of heart break, AIDS, cancer, alzheimer’s.

Though some gardeners still plant by the moon.

And some still notice the effect of the full moon on the tides of human affairs.

And some write books on the pyramids and stonehenge, places where solstices were framed.

And some say the wise men who followed the star to Bethlehem were astrologers.

We hear these bits and pieces of information, we even remember the magnificent Biblical quotation: “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament showeth His handiwork.”

That quote too is treated as a bit, one more unit of information — separate from, equal to, any other bit. Each one digital, suspended. Each one lost, alone, with no value.

Computers are our latest inventions. We bow before them, become obsessed by them, give them power over life and death: today’s nuclear war machine is triggered by computers.

 

We have taken the natural order of things, and abstracted it to the point where the machine has replaced nature; we analyze nature as if she were a machine.

Instead of appreciating the nature of time and its complexity — there is another moment within this one, and another, larger moment which includes it — instead, we see, experience and model time in a linear fashion. Where time is a straight arrow line, where “progress” and “accumulation” are worshipped as gods and the truth of things is a vanishing point, somewhere (else) down the line.

We have grown so insular, we have retreated into our minds so far, we seldom notice the rhythmic cyclical workings of even our own bodies.

We make no sense of mystics’ mention of NOW as the echo of eternity, or even of the hippies’ motto BE HERE NOW.

I doubt the hippies made much sense of their slogan either. How could they? They too are Americans, inheritors of Europe, and European culture; they too experience time as a line, where the present moment is a mere point on the line and whenever recollected is gone, gone.

“What are you gonna’ be when you grow up?”, some ask their children. As if grownups stop growing, as if maturity is some magical state of suspended animation, where the goal has been reached, the deed done.

We owe our rational, goal-oriented consciousness to our largely unconscious and thoroughly pervasive experience of time as a line. Feminists call this the “male” mind; scientists call it the “left brain”; followers of macrobiotics call it the principle of “yang.”

Yin balances yang; right brain complements left; female bonds to male. Each energy has its return swing, exactly.

New moon creates full moon. Full moon swings to new moon, 14.5 days hence. How many moons is how long is how many times has this happened before.

We humans require patterns for our survival. Our lives depend upon our ability to recognize regularity in nature.

These days, we expect the worst. We expect to be detonated, burnt, blown off the earth. Earthquakes, volcanoes, nuclear reactions, what does it matter which disaster strikes?

The times we march to are so regular they are too regular they are like clockwork, clockwork orange, digital. Our fantasies of destruction serve us well, they compensate.

The sun’s daily progress through the heavens, the succession of day into night into day, the moon’s many regular phases, the quarter-yearly sun’s movement from solstice to equinox, the slow comings and goings of the planets through the starry night skies, the earth’s 24,000 year precession of the equinoxes — all these phenomena are, or once were, obvious to us. Each of them is cyclical, not linear, in its workings. Each observes its own time, encloses its own space.

We have reached the end of the line. The cycle of mechanicalness is breaking down. We can blow ourselves up, and those who are left will begin the same cycle again. Radiated, maimed, starving, unaware of the cycle just past, and therefore of human history, and history’s wars, we humans will be condemned to repeat ourselves.

Or, we can begin a new cycle now, before it is too late to remember. We can incorporate the previous cycle within us so fully and so consciously we will have finally broken the mold.

Pray we remember ourselves, the rhythms of our bodies, their attunement with nature’s own. Pray we re-member the sky above, its ever-changing patterns, mapping, mirroring, making sense of what happens on earth below. Pray we re-member that all our bits of information, our “facts,” gain meaning through their function as parts within larger wholes.

Astrology is a language which attunes us to the constantly changing and infinitely variable forms within space and time, circles and cycles, parts and wholes. Astrology returns us to the natural order, where everything is meaningful and nothing is lost.

Electric lights cannot blot out the stars without inviting disaster. The disaster is at hand. Fortunately, so is the cure. Consider astrology. Con-sider: go “with the stars.”

 

 

 

MASK TALES for SOVEREIGN SOULS

September 20, 2021

During this ongoing scamplandemic, until recently, whenever I was “mandated” to wear a mask, I did, though always below my nose — spitefully putting it on just after entering a grocery store and taking it off just before leaving. I estimate that during these 18 months, I’ve had a below-the-nose mask on no more than two hours total. And only once, during these 18 looooong months, did a mask nazi bark, “COVER YOUR NOSE!” and that was in our friendly(?) local co-op! Ever since then, I go out of my way to avoid going there, and mostly succeed.

Of course, during the short period of time this year when masks were only required for the unvaxxed, like other contrarians I “identified” as vaxxed, and sailed through stores with bare face. Plus: I got the distinct impression that the masked ones in there were mostly vaxxed! —since so many many people in this academic town got the jab. Wait a minute. Isn’t the vax supposed to protect you? This is one obvious example of how things have gone completely topsy-turvy . . .

Once the deep state decided to ramp the plandemic up again, inventing the “delta variant” as a cover for the massive numbers of people who were falling ill just after getting the poisonous vax, of course the mandate tightened again, and there we were, all of us supposed to mask up again, even the vaxxed, who had thought getting the jab would free them!

Nope, sorry about that. There. will. be. no. return. to. “normal.”

Meanwhile, we have to continue to look at the “data” very very carefully. For example, did you know the reason why they can claim that “most ‘covid’ patients in hospitals are unvaccinated”? In other words, how they can scream that we’ve descended into a pandemic of the unvaxxed? It’s because a person is not counted as vaxxed until two weeks have passed from either the second shot or the first (for the J & J). And yes, most people who fall ill enough to go to the hospital do so well within that two-week span.

And of course, we now know that being hospitalized, given the protocols mandated by the FDA, or is it the NIH?, or the WHO, or the NWO?  — is equivalent to a possible, even likely, death sentence. In short, hospitals are the gas chambers of the Covid Nazi agenda. Once the “patient” is put on Remdesivir and intubated, they usually die. See the Robert David Steele post. And see the funeral director post.

Okay, back to masks. Here’s a whistleblower post who talks specifically about the paper masks that most of us wear, boxes of which are conveniently available for those who “forgot” upon entering a store.

Please read this entire thread. It starts:

https://threadreaderapp.com/thread/1439399325419835399.html

 

In other words, besides processed “food, ” GMOs, pesticides, fluoridated water, chemtrails raining from the skies, teflon pans, Big Pharma drugs designed to keep us sick, — on and on, ramped up hugely since World War II when chemical weapons were repurposed as pesticides — the dreaded word “covid” finally arrived as the end game, amped up since January 2020 (but really, way way before that, given the many decades of planning, including the final, Gates sponsored Event 201) —

— plus the official Faux-ci determination to demonize real therapeutics like Ivermectin and HCL, and recently, the knowledge that hospital protocols kill, we now know that these sometimes Chinese made masks, are themselves killing us. 

Whoopee! It’s a wonder any of us are still alive!

Recently, I’ve decided not to wear my mask, even below my nose, unless I’m not feeling rested enough that day to be able to handle whatever someone would throw at me for not wearing it. Usually, there’s no problem. I’m the only one in the store unmasked, but nobody looks at me as if I’m evil or full of cooties. Perhaps, secretly, they are filing away the fact that here’s an old lady without a mask. She’s not scared. Why not? Perhaps red-pilling begins just that way, with a moment of doubt.

Another person I know, who has not worn a mask at all, no matter where he is, during this “delta” stage of their plandemic, though he does carry one in his pocket in case someone does ask, was standing in a very long line at Krogers yesterday, the only one without a mask, and nobody looking at him weird, when he got into a conversation with a woman who looked to be in her sixties. She started it: “So you’re not wearing a mask?” “No, never want to wear one again.” “Are you vaxxed?” “Hell no. Would never do that to my body, although I do take plenty of supplements and eat well otherwise. He ticked them off: Vitamin C, D3, Zinc, Quercetin, C-60, Ivermectin . . . and showed her an app on his phone where she could get the Zelenko Protocol, to include most of the ones he takes. She warmed up. Said she had gotten the first shot, but felt so sick afterwards that she’s determined never to get another one. “About six months ago,” she continued, “I stopped reading and watching mainstream news. Now I go to all sorts of alternative sources.” “Which ones?” She named Mel K, Charlie Ward, Simon Parkes, all people decidedly in the red-pill camp. He praised her for thinking for herself, knowing that she’s feeling very alone in her ongoing transformation.

I bet this lonely woman sailed out of Krogers with winged feet, so excited was she to meet another authentically sovereign human soul.

YES!