Like all of us, I’ve been more and more suckered into looking at, and sometimes attaching to, all sorts of exponentially thudding, for me, mostly twitterX posts. Meanwhile, also recognizing, more and more, how the AI (algorithm) funnels only certain posts, certain experiences, impressions, ideas, images to me, based on my own internet history.

Yes, I was suckered into paying close attention to the David Wilcock death psy-op. Not that his tragic suicide isn’t true, because it probably is, but because of the way so many who both knew him and did not are weighing in, that the entire scenario has degenerated into a morass of conflicting stories, tailor-made for distraction, whether or not intended, by “black hats” or “white hats” or both. Thus, a deliberately confusing “psychological operation.” Or: maybe not? WHO KNOWS? WHAT IS REAL?

(Hmmm . . . My PhD philosophy, focused on epistemology, which at the time, to others, seemed ridiculous, is proving extremely relevant, now, over 50 years later!)

Okay, so given that current epistemological i.e., twitter background, here’s something that jolted me into a reality below/above/within/without/human constructs of any kind.

THIS:

Yesterday, twice, Nature herself spoke to me. Or maybe I should say, “the divine,” or “source” spoke to me, beaming down through the human-generated fog of mental war, once again, to say “WAKE UP! IT’S TIME!” This phrase I’ve already mentioned, probably on this blog: how it was generated also by Nature, but in a dream, of a giant raven sitting on my shoulders, cawing “WAKE UP! IT’S TIME!” Thus was Crone Chronicles: a Journal of Conscious Aging, born, when I was 46, and lasted for 30 years.

This time, again a bird visited me. But not in a dream (where it’s easier for those in 3D to deny as meaningful), but when awake . . .

What Happened

I was on my second walk of the day, this one shorter, in the early evening, with sun low in the western sky. Suddenly, “out of the blue,” I felt a cold wetness plop onto my head, my hair. What? I was not under trees. The sky was clear, no clouds. Nor was I drugged in any way, pharmaceutically or otherwise. This was my alert waking state.

I felt a cold wetness plop onto my hair, and then suddenly remembered: it had happened that morning also, but I hadn’t “picked up” on it, simply went on with my day — only to see hours later that my hair was whitened in a certain spot, by a dry white powder. WHAT?

SO YES, IT HAPPENED. TWICE YESTERDAY. And only when it happened the second time did I actually look up, to see several circling Turkey Vultures, 100s of feet above, one of them just past being directly over me.

WHAT?

So a Turkey Vulture had contacted me, twice. . . And I was trying to absorb this extraordinary information, suddenly some kind of large insect buzzed my ear, tried to climb inside (as if to say, “did you get the message?!?”)

(Luckily my hand automatically reached up in time.)

Yes, Nature speaks to us in ways that we do not speak to each other.

“Truth” and “Falsity” are not relevant here.

These are times when all we can do is surrender, succumb to wonder.

I mean, “what are the odds?”

When I got home I searched both gemini and grok for “symbolic meaning of turkey buzzard dropping poop on  head from hundreds of feet up,” something like that. Check it out . . . Can’t remember the exact prompt I used.

The internet is full of stuff relating to this very much out-of-the-ordinary experience. Nature’s wisdom trumps human vicissitudes. Reminds me that, despite increasingly chaotic “appearances,” my embodied being is safe, secure, in the nourishing arms of Mother Nature.