Category Archives: Aliens

Only You can do this

[thoughts from    ~burning woman~    ]

What are you thinking about, he asked, perhaps not totally sarcastically.

Off the cuff, I replied: “Peut-être que ça ne dit rien a personne d’autre mais pour moi, ç’a dit tout car je suis mon propre petit univers.”

He looked at me as if I’d lost my mind and was rattling a mindless reply in pig Latin. Of course, my fault, I’d never told him I could speak French. I hadn’t wanted him to hold that against me along with all my other faults he liked to enumerate time and again. I’d gotten used to it but lately I had begun to feel an itch when he started up. The itch was and is, growing. I took off my ring the other day and left it off all day. I felt something like freedom; an exhilaration and a further sense of daring. Could I live without it – him? Since then I’ve re-watched two movies, two stories that are favourites of mine: “Shirley Valentine” and “The Book of Eve.” Why not me?

Well, that’s a strange introduction for what I have to say but it does set the tone. You see, “he” is not an actual man, and I am not actually married – not now, though I have been three times the loser in that game – so just call it a parable. “He” is the world, i.e., the System, the Establishment. The slave owner, slave driver, boss, whorehouse owner, pimp, prison warden, judge and executioner. I am property, sometimes lucrative, sometimes entertaining, seductive, rebellious, victim, always slave. Though “his” methods for securing my presence, conformity and subjugation have varied, the intent has remained the same throughout the millennia. The point is that in “his” world I have no voice unless and until “he” chooses to acknowledge something I said. That only happens when it is to “his” advantage as when it bolsters “his” flagging ego. Or, as some of “us” have often stated, I could “grow balls” and act like a man, think tough, talk tough, act tough. I did try that on occasion and it didn’t go too well. Too much like cross-dressing for a man: only the few can actually pass the test, and what is left of the real ‘me’ afterwards? Where am I when I can no longer pass?

I’ve been feeling alienated lately and that feeling is intensifying. In my mind I hear a constant truism: I do not belong here. Don’t I know it. Just about everything about this world, the natural and the man-made causes discomfort, aggravates, irritates, grinds, disappoints, saddens and sorrows me. I am, as a self aware person, moving away from all the things that make earth the place that it is. So please don’t get me wrong, it’s not just what man does, it’s what this world is. It is primarily a harsh, cruel, unforgiving place. No matter how many examples of kindness among people; of supportive bonding and pairing between different animal species, sometimes even crossing the line between natural predator and prey, it remains that these cause us to wonder and reflect, not because such expressions of acceptance are the modus operandi of this world but because they are rare exceptions. I can “admire” exceptions like those as much as anyone else but there is no forgetting, ever, that exceptions prove the rule, and the rule is always the opposite of the exception. Exceptions do not lead to freedom!

Leaving the animal ‘kingdom’ alone (it is what it is and until a new nature is woven over this dying one there is nothing I can do about it) I focus mostly on Earthians. They are, primarily, a short-sighted, jealous, cruel and vindictive species. They possess little or no empathy and their pride causes them to whitewash, or boast of, their gross indecencies in interrelationships. In this respect I put war near the top of the collective pleasure felt by committing mass murder – for make no mistake: all wars are the grossest of crimes, after misogyny. There are no “just” wars. There is no justification for war – ever – period. Try to understand how utterly depraved one has to be; how mentally deranged and sick, just to entertain the thought of war, never mind to plan for it; to use it as entertainment in books, movies, games; to participate in it.

Back to that French sentence above. What I said was, ‘Maybe it means nothing to anyone else but to me it’s everything because I am my own little universe.’ Honestly, if I hadn’t discovered the ability to both, shrink and expand myself into my own universe I would have become lost long ago. I don’t have to imagine what it’s like living a life that isn’t mine, trying to make one reality co-exist with another completely opposite reality because that has been my life. There is what “they” wanted me to be and what “they” wanted of me, and there is the me that exists only for me, within me, surrounded by my self-made protective wall behind which the alien me retreats and hides.

I realize I have often, particularly in my early years, been guilty of projecting the false, blue pill Matrix slave me. I so wanted to fit in and it was actually quite easy until it began to eat away at my mind and destroy the real me. I had to make a break from that particular “dark side of the Force” reality and reconnect to my self, the compassionate being who had had no chance at guiding or teaching until I acknowledged myself as different than, and separated myself from, Earth’s natural and social reality.

How quickly then did the blue pill supports come tumbling down and how soon there was hardly anything left of those times with their jealous thoughts, their hate, their aggressiveness and insufferable pride.

“How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” Indeed, and how rapidly I grew beautiful feet because I brought good news, even if the System and those attached to it could not accept what I had to share with Earth as good news.

Let’s do a reminder of that good news. I call it living the compassionate life. That does not require any elaboration because compassion is self-explanatory to anyone who decides to live by it. There is no law, no method, no system, no religion or philosophy that can contain and explain compassion, it requires none of that. So is it any wonder that idea is not good news to any system that insists it must be in control of all ideas or concepts proposed to become the modus operandi of a world? The compassionate being already knows right from wrong from the get-go; s/he does not need intermediaries to explain how to proceed on this path. Any wonder any system would reject it outright? Why, it would make even governments obsolete, never mind God, and the plethora of religions and “charitable” organizations. No more law makers; no more lawyers, for where would there be contention?

I can go further: no more violence because, obviously, the compassionate being cannot do violence to another, choosing rather to suffer the loss in herself. Yes, choosing, from self empowerment, from certainty. No whining, no running to the police or the courts for redress, finding such within herself until the world is completely changed and there is no more violence. Yes, she could be killed but she’ll only come back and continue.

That is the under-girding vision that sustains the compassionate person. It is not pie-in-the-sky as some would think because she has already reached that place within herself, within her own little universe. Now all she does is water the surrounding areas with her compassion and watch as some of it actually succeeds in extinguishing the fires of violence.

Tell me you possess something better. Tell me there are other ways now being used that have never failed before and therefore remain legitimate. You won’t find any, but you will tell me that compassion as already failed because it was preached by the Buddha and others and went nowhere. I will reply, yes, it was preached, and yes, some went there, some died as a result, others were frightened or power-hungry and chose to create institutions in attempts to corner their concept of compassion. It became a religion… but it was no longer compassion. Compassion cannot be so easily entrapped. It was a fake claim. Collectives cannot be compassionate, only individuals can. Join two compassionate individuals together in a collective purporting to do compassion and they are no longer compassionate beings. That needs to be understood before the idea is rejected.

“Only you can prevent forest fires” says Smokey Bear. In the same vein, “Only you, as an individual, can be compassionate.”

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Subject: Co-Evolution

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ ]

Begin with a simple vision of a past long lost to your DNA, unthinkable to your history.  A past when certain intelligences moved away from their worlds, scattering in the infinity of space and time.  Some cross a great barrier and find themselves in this universe, a very young and strange place full of chaos and rage.  The wandering space travelers are now the ancients on the scene.  They attract precocious, hungry, predatory life-forms.  These young energies infest the ancients’ minds and a symbiotic relationship ensues.  In exchange for their wisdom, the young ones give the ancients new energy.

A new being develops in this co-evolution.  And the great galaxies; Magellanic Clouds and nebulae continue to be born and in turn to give birth to lesser systems, some swarming with incoherent, chaotic, life.  Truly, some parts of this universe are nothing if not one great big Saturday night party that is so much fun no one wants to go home…

The new being observes the cooling of worlds and the settling of new life forms.  It discovers and uses mitosis to become many. It follows its instincts and chooses a variety of new worlds to inhabit.  There is another Diaspora and most lose track of others.

Uncountable years later…

In the Sol system a small world is birthed from the death of another, a water world that soon teems with life.  The new being comes hither and observes.  “I will leave my seed on this world,”  it states.  And it does so.

The seed becomes known as human, though it is but pseudo-human.  The new seed being having yet to give meaning to its existence sees its world as a place to control, subdue, conquer.  It chooses to be a predator and to fight for its right to exist on its chosen world.  Over time it discovers it has no serious challenger among the many predators of its new world except for its own species, disease and death.  It beats out the odds against these through the use of its female counterpart as a birth mother.  She gives birth without restraint and population increases exponentially.  All is well.

Not really.  The pseudo-human can’t seem to adapt to his new world.  Whereas nature tells him of balance he chooses to set himself up as ruler above nature.  He chooses an artificial lifestyle to sustain himself.  Except for small vulnerable groups who made the effort to adapt themselves to their environment, “man” as he has come to think of himself, refuses to do so.  Those who adapted are enslaved, poisoned, killed and their way of life destroyed.

It’s history, at least the last part unavoidably so.

However much I tried (I remember quite a few “tries” I call past lives) I’ve never been able to fit in “your” world.  Your thoughts are not mine; neither are your ways.  I despise your values (or lack thereof) and equally despise how easily you are mind-enslaved by individuals less intelligent than yourself.

Your rulers; your leaders; your bosses; your healers; your teachers: all of them, almost without exception, are exploiters.  All of them lie to you.  Teachers do not teach: at best, they instruct; at worse they indoctrinate. Those who would teach are not allowed.  Your religious gurus are in it for the money and the glory.  Your politicians, ditto.  Your legal interpreters, well, is there another lawyer joke out there waiting to be constructed?  Your money launderers you call bankers: what role do they play but to enslave you further to their artificially created and maintained global debt load?  What about your great corporate businesses?  Surely, based on their commercials they have your best interest at heart? (Sarcasm!).

Conclusion: you are not of this world.  You never adapted to its ways and are moving further and further from such an adaptation.  Sadly, you have no other world to go to either.  Heaven and Hell (as options) are just mirror images of Earth — as below, so above (and so further below!).  What else is there?  If you are but body, you end up in the flames of the crematorium or rot in an underground box.   Death is the one predator you cannot conquer, not ever. May as well have never existed that those billions you destroyed in your egotistical greedy madness to conquer absolutely nothing could have had the life you denied them.

Co-evolution ensured your survival but it did not prepare you to adapt to any particular world.  How others like yourselves have fared on other worlds, in other galaxies and other universes, I won’t say because it would be meaningless without your own willing participation in such explorations and your acceptance of what your “visions” and “dreams” would tell you.  Knowledge comes from information and experience.  I can give you information.  I cannot give you experience. Information without experience is poison.

If you would know who you are (as a species and sub-species) I suggest you look at yourself using a mental scalpel.  Open yourself under your own microscope as you interact with others like you and with your environment in general.  Watch how you think about “others”.  Watch what you say.  What you do.  What you buy.  What you use.  What you eat.  What you wear and why.  What you use as shelter.  Watch carefully who it is that speaks through your mind: is it you, or is it someone, something, you trust/fear more than yourself?  Are you the product of someone else’s thoughts and ideas?  Watch carefully.  Decide then if what you observe is what you really choose to be — and you would not be anyone or anything else no matter what — or if you wish to become something else.  If so, what else?

You are the product of co-evolution.  Your past is so deep and distant; so full of weirdness that you would be scared to death to see what you used to be.  To arrive here you have mutated, changed and changed.  Now you can easily see you were never prepared to live on this small world.  You don’t have a clue how it functions in relation to the real you.  You don’t really know what to do with yourself when confronted with Earth.  But you know how to exploit. You know how to forcefully take and you revel in destruction and killing. You express yourself for the most part in mindless rage.

Imagine you wake up one morning alone and naked in some Earthian wilderness.  You realize it’s your city’s exact location before there was any human being there.  You’ve lived here, as an alien, all of your life surrounded by all the artifacts that make your puny, meaningless consumer life possible.  Now there’s just the naked physical you and the real world: nature.  What about you will determine whether you live or die?  The alien part, that which has never tried to adapt, will be helpless here. What natural part of you can you awaken that may save you in this scenario?

Debate all you want about evolution versus creation.  But the only thing that matters is, can you adapt to this world before you push it beyond its ability to support you, even should you choose to meet it at its natural level?

If you are annoyed by my use of the pronoun “you” in speaking of Earthians, I want you to know that I am not one of you.  I can interact with you quasi-normally (according to YOUR rules, not mine) though you have certainly pushed me to my limits and beyond many times, but I cannot join with you through any of your recognized, legalized, accepted relationships, beliefs and performances.  I won’t play possum with my mind and allow it to atrophy as a trophy to some Power, whatever you wish to call such.

I come from cosmic infinity and to the Cosmos I return.  The stars of your galaxy, of northern and southern hemispheres are but dandelion and buttercup flowers in my current life’s front and back yards.

Is there a Collective Unconscious and a Collective Dream?


[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara

(Introduction) From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

Collective unconscious (German: kollektives Unbewusstes), a term coined by Carl Jung, refers to structures of the unconscious mind which are shared among beings of the same species. According to Jung, the human collective unconscious is populated by instincts and by archetypes: universal symbols such as The Great Mother, the Wise Old Man, the Shadow, the Tower, Water, the Tree of Life, and many more.

Jung considered the collective unconscious to underpin and surround the unconscious mind, distinguishing it from the personal unconscious of Freudian psychoanalysis. He argued that the collective unconscious had profound influence on the lives of individuals, who lived out its symbols and clothed them in meaning through their experiences. The psychotherapeutic practice of analytical psychology revolves around examining the patient’s relationship to the collective unconscious.

Psychiatrist and Jungian analyst Lionel Corbett argues that the contemporary terms “autonomous psyche” or “objective psyche” are more commonly used today in the practice of depth psychology rather than the traditional term of the “collective unconscious.”[1]

Critics of the collective unconscious concept have called it unscientific and fatalistic, or otherwise very difficult to test scientifically (due to the mythical aspect of the collective unconscious).[2] Proponents suggest that it is borne out by findings of psychology, neuroscience, and anthropology. [end of Wikipedia introduction]


In a recent post I wrote about an interesting dream I had involving certain “symbolic characters” currently much in the collective mind: Donald Trump as president of the USA, his press secretary, KellyAnn Conway, and the White House represented by a “Black House” in the dream.

Since, I have met one other person who had a similar dream on or about the same time I did, involving Donald Trump asking for help. 

In the comments section of my article, Katharine Otto  ( https://katharineotto.wordpress.com/ ) wrote: “Sha’Tara,  Your dream has been working on me since I wrote the above, and I do indeed believe you are functioning as a catalyst. I believe Trump is also a catalyst, in that he is rattling so many cages, but he can’t control outcomes. The outcome (or outcomes) depends on how we as Earthians deal with the changes. We do have the opportunity to uplevel individual and group experiences, maybe with a little help from our more evolved, extra-terrestrial friends, whoever or whatever they may be.

Maybe in a group-dreaming mode, we can dream up some visions of the kind of society we would like to inhabit.

Is there a collective unconscious (or objective psyche) and could this involve a kind of collective dreaming involving those free-er minds no longer bound by belief systems as promoted by organized religion or atheistic scientific materialism?  That somewhere between these antagonistic extremes exists a subtle reality preventing extremism from totally destroying a living sphere; a reality that dreamers can access and input into, thus adding to its power to dampen or control volatile conditions brought on by excessive greed and predatory lust leading to insatiable appetites for the predators; fear and uncertainty for their victims?

The “Teachers” warned me time and again not to embroil myself into the physical struggle for balance in the worlds of religion, politics and money.  They cautioned me not to “take sides” by exercising my voting “rights” as all such moves reveal a sense of powerlessness on my part and a gloating on the part of the enemy. 

Recently I compared the political processes world-wide as a game of snakes and ladders.  “They” cast the dice, we walk the line only to rise, then fall in turn.  “They” are the gamers, we the pawns.  Thus it always was, thus it always will be, until perhaps, as Katherine points out, more and more of us are drawn into the dream, expanding that gentle realm until the extremes dry out from lack of food. What is the extremist’s food? Violence.

The lesson of non-involvement through detachment is harsh and apparently pointless.  The dreamers are the conchies or conscientious objectors, not just to war, but towards all forms of violence.  All violence is always, without exception, an extreme counter life force.  All types of competitive behaviour is based in violence, like it or not.  Is voting then a from of violence? Yes it is because it’s a competition, a vicious game.  It is a religion, the  support of one’s particular “household gods” in the hope that they will bring peace, or if not, then the defeat of the enemy, whatever and whomever that enemy is – in politics, religion or finance there is always an enemy and all of it results in competitive behaviour and that always results in victimization, suppression, oppression, marginalization and often the genocide of innocent victims.

Who is the enemy of religion, politics and finance? The answer is obvious: me, if I dare become an individual who refuses to offer innocent sacrifices on the altars of oppressive and oppressing “divinities”.  Me, the self empowered who dares enter into the collective unconscious dream and therein draw off power from death-dealing structures to engender new life.  From this place I am neither heroine nor victim: I just am. 

Report to Galactic Headquarters

(a short sci-fi story… from Sha’Tara)

For: Leon Battera, Receiver

From: Apia-Di Loro III, Observation ship, OmaTe

Date: Cycle 286-87-1902 per Pleiadian Time Accounting.

Begin:

I have discovered an ancient world sparsely populated by intelligent sentience. Per my orders, I am orbiting this world on six different parameters taking soundings and recordings.

The sentience speaks as-yet unrecorded languages and I have instructed my translator to begin working on it. However, due to the vast confusion of spoken languages, this may take some time.

The world has much water on it but much appears to be non-potable and what should be potable appears to carry unusual amounts of radiation and trace pollutants inimical to the local flora and fauna. Samplings of air quality also reveal high levels of radiation and an unnatural dearth of oxygen.

I have run my findings through my analyzer. This world will require personal investigation as it is obvious it experienced a terrible catastrophe as recently as five to ten thousand years ago. As per my orders I must ascertain whether this unnatural catastrophe was caused by an invasion, or by the locals themselves although at first scan, these people have no technology, certainly nothing capable of such devastation indicated by my scans.

There is evidence of very large cities having once existed, now nothing but ruins. There are no roads. The people, it seems, live in small villages of huts made from mud and grasses; in some places, from twigs or bones.  I have noted smoke rising from the mouth of caves also.

What happened here? My mind is burning with questions. I am leaving my AI in command and taking my lander down to the planet.

Apia-Di Loro: AI, have I taken all necessary precautions and availed myself of proper protection?

AI: All is optimum. Ready for launch.

I am landed in a hidden depression on a broad plain covered in coarse grass. First analysis: radiation poisoning but dwindling. There is a village of sorts some ways from my hidden lander. I am making for it. It is difficult to separate the bipedal humanoid sentients from many other sentients so proceeding with care.

Of important note: I come upon an inscription of sorts on a plaque. The plaque material appears to be some metal alloy and is very old. I set the translator to transcribe what can be seen of the inscription and while it is doing so I wander around, careful to retain my cloaking. I hear an animal bleat and over a small rise comes a young woman leading a dozen animals which my portable unit refers to as “goats”.

Another animal follows the young woman, or girl rather. The animal circles the “goats” and keeps them walking in a specific direction. It is called a “dog”. The woman/girl is known as a shepherdess according to my portable translator. Meaning: she has charge of the animals and the “dog” animal helps her.

I’m in need of some verbal communication to talk to her so I return to my translator by the ancient plaque. This is what the translator shows me:

My name is Do-ald Trum-. I am the Presid–t of the mightiest nat— on e-rth. I have the p-wer to –nihil-te any nation or allian–s of na–on- that chall-nge my -ill. My fing-r is -lways -n th- butt-n. Be afraid, be v-ry -fr-id. -istory wil- r-memb– me as t– gre–est, mos- power-ul man who ever lived- – am mak-ng Amer-c- gr–t agai-

It was enough to formulate a rudimentary understanding of the language. The computer had no problem filling in the missing letters. Accompanied by the translator I return to the shepherdess and her animals. Before I uncloak myself I study her. She is very thin to the point of emaciation and her hair is sparse and dull. Her limbs are obviously deformed, a mutation from the radiation. Her right leg is shorter than the other and that foot has no toes. Her left arm terminates with a few knobs that were meant to be fingers, approximately where the elbow should be. Her clothing is inadequate, little more than patched rags. I feel a great pang of empathetic sadness knowing this would be the case for most of her people.

I try to imagine hundreds of millions of such mutants surviving in the most primitive and terrible of conditions, prone to disease and sudden temperature changes, always hungry, and the worst of it: not knowing why they are thus being “punished”. 

Having some verbal communication ability via the translator, I uncloak myself slowly and pretend I’d been walking towards her, a stranger crossing the prairie. Upon seeing me, she stands abruptly and raises her stick. The dog gives a half-dozen perfunctory warning barks. Fortunately my female form takes some of her fear of me away and she waits, though ready to run. I signal I am unarmed and try a greeting through the translator. She remains mute, obviously uncomprehending. I try other words and I see that she is listening intently but not understanding.

Finally, I point to the plaque and ask who this Donald Trump is, or was. She looks at the plaque as if she never noticed it before and shrugs and shakes her head to indicate she doesn’t know. I realize then that her language has nothing to do with what is on the plaque and in any case she cannot read. I conclude then that these are survivor remnants of some terrible war, for war it had to be as I can easily infer from the contents of the plaque. These people have no history and what language they possess has only immediate survival value.

The girl is still standing, rigid and uncertain, ready to bolt. To help her relax I slowly turn away to disappear in the tall grasses. Ironically the dog creature circles me and coming to the plaque, relieves itself upon it. I think it a very fitting gesture even if the creature does not realize the symbolism of its act.

My dear Leon, I will give you a much more thorough report when I return to the OmaTe. Meanwhile, I need not tell you this is a terrible heart-breaker of a world. Let me know as soon as you can if I should remain in orbit here and if it is necessary for me to make other landings. More importantly advise me, please, on what Galactic Planetary Health Consortium plans to do about this discovery; if it will intervene on behalf of these people. They desperately need our help Leon.

More details to follow soon. I remain, your Apia-Di.

Mr. Valentor

 [a short story by   ~burning woman~  ]

Ada Muir has just finished with the bathroom and exits into the hall leading into the kitchen when there is a knock at the door of her small, clean suburban bungalow.

She thinks, ‘What the…at eight AM?’

She looks through the peep hole and sees a man with what appears to be a roll of papers under his arm. She opens the inner door a wedge, “Yes?”

“Ah, good morning ma’am. My name is Valentor. My company has just expanded its readership into this area and I represent the Venus Monthly, a magazine with a varied theme, but dealing mostly with stories emanating from this system. If you could give me a few minutes of your time, I could introduce you to our feature article of the month.”

“I’m sorry, but do I look like I was born last night?” She replies a bit huffed. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

“Oh, ma’am, time need not become an issue. If you don’t have any of yours, I’m entitled to let you use some of mine, within reason. Shall we say, a half hour of my time for free and you take out a one year subscription to Venus Monthly.”

Ada Muir, as it happens, is a part-time reporter for the Rosedale Herald and she realizes this cockamamie story could have potential. Plus she is totally taken by his rich, deep, bass voice. She unlatches the inner door.

“C’mon in, Mr. Valentor.”

He walks in. She sees that he is very tall, possibly the tallest man she’s ever met. Well dressed and under the sharp suit, she senses a body of perfect proportions. The face is chiseled but not harsh. She is particularly attracted to his lips and his ears… she gets a sudden urge to kiss him and chew on his earlobes.

‘What’s the matter with me!’ she remonstrates to herself as she smiles at her visitor.

“Nothing is the matter with you, Ada,” says Valentor. “I have that effect on most earth women. It’s called “sex appeal” and one of the reasons I’ve been given charge of this sector. It’s enjoyable for me. I hope it will prove as enjoyable for you.”

“You know my name; read my thoughts?”

“Yes, of course. Why? Should I not? Is this a breach of protocol?”

“I can’t read yours so it isn’t really fair, is it.”

“I don’t understand ‘fair’ in thought exchanges. Whether I read your thoughts or not doesn’t stop you from having them.”

“What if I thought something, well, too personal, or critical of your appearance, and such like?”

“What of it? It makes no difference. They’re still your thoughts. Have them.”

“What if they hurt your feelings in some ways?”

“That is of no concern of yours, they’re my feelings, not yours. What I do with my feelings is my business. Speaking of business, can I show you this month’s copy of our magazine? Cover page here, that’s the Crab Nebula, awesome isn’t it?”

“Are we on your time now?”

“Yes.”

“When you leave it’ll still be eight o’clock my time?”

“Yes, of course. That was the understanding.”

Ada shakes her head. “Oh my, so sorry but in all this I forgot to offer you something to drink, to eat? Do you drink coffee, Mr. Valentor?”

“Yes, I have developed a taste for coffee. It is pleasant. I will have a coffee.”

She deftly slips a pod in the machine, slides a cup under the spout and flips down the actuator, pressing ‘medium’ to be safe.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Sugar only please. Two lumps.”

“They taught you to say that, didn’t they, your trainers before you came here? I knew it, I just knew it!” She half laughs, half smiles. She smells a story; she’s on track.

“I don’t understand. If you knew it, why did you ask?”

“It’s a different kind of knowing. Never mind. Have you ever tried your coffee black only, or with cream, or cream and sugar?”

“Those choices were not included in my training manual. I was not made aware of their availability.”

“Are you an AI Mr. Valentor? Artificial Intelligence? A robot? Are you human?”

“All of the above, of course, but I am also Pleiadian, primarily from source.”

“You mean from the actual Pleiades star system? Now you’re pulling my leg.”

“I would never do such a thing! Such a pointless and cruel thing to do to anyone; particularly to someone as pretty as yourself. What made you think I would pull your leg off? Why? You have such crude notions of relationships here.”

“I didn’t mean that literally! It’s just what we say when we think someone’s lying to us.”

“Why not just say, ‘You’re lying to me?'”

“Never mind. Here’s your coffee. Tell me if it is to your taste.”

“How could it not be? I don’t understand how it could be to someone else’s taste when I’m the one ingesting it.”

“Forget it!”

“That is an order I cannot comply with. I am designed to remember everything.”

Ada puts her head in her hands, “Oh, God! This conversation is becoming anal!”

“I am not God and you have no need to pray to me. Do not be worried, you will get your magazine, I assure you, and on time each month. To clarify, we were not having an anal conversation, we were definitely using our mouths.”

“Arrrgh!”

“Would you like a glass of warm water to help clear your throat impediment?”

“I don’t have a… Look, if we’re going to get along, will-you-please-not-comment-on-everything-I-say?”

“That seems quite impol…”

“Shut up! Just shut up, Mr. Valentor.”

Ada knows that she is now quite flushed and before she even realizes what she is doing, she stands up abruptly. Facing her alien salesman, looking down at his gorgeous face she drops her robe. Valentor looks up at the nude twenty three years, eight months, three days and thirteen hours of age Earthian female and thinks, ‘this I understand.’ He stands also, makes his clothing vanish and lets Ada get a full frontal view of his anatomy, waits while she tries to gather her thoughts, knowing what would come next.

Ada impulsively throws herself into the man’s embrace and hugs him to feel all of him. She then backs away, takes his hand and leads him to her bed.

It is a good thing the neighbours had already gone to work and their kids to school. If they had heard Ada’s cries they would have been certain someone was killing her and likely have called 911. The aftermath of an armed RCMP intervention would definitely have made a colourful story, though probably not one Ada would have cared to read about, much less watch on the evening local TV news.

There’s a lesson for us ladies here. Watch out for those tall, dark and irresistibly handsome time-traveling Pleiadian magazine salesmen. They’re a lot more than they at first appear. Just sayin’!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A World’s Tale

[thoughts from ~burning woman~ ]

I’m going to tell a story and I want you to remember that it is a story. As far as anybody knows, it’s a fairy tale, or perhaps science fiction or fantasy. The point is, it isn’t supposed to be true at all, none of it.

That is called a disclaimer.

Once upon a time at the far edge of a galaxy far far away there was a small world no one paid any attention to. Although it was chock full of interesting life, no one in its neighbourhood cared about that. Better things to do, bigger fish to fry. The world carried on as worlds are wont to do when left to their own devices, and until they are interfered with. Which is predictably what happened.

Eventually, that small world was noticed by people aboard a passing space ship. They probed and finding it rather inviting they landed advance missions on it to have a look around. Probing and exploring, they discovered the world was rich in resources lacking on their mother ship and on their home world where such resources would be worth fortunes. With no one to challenge them they established bases from which to proceeded with exploitation.

Among the rich number of sentient life, they had hoped to find some life forms suitable to serve as slaves but after experimentation and trials, nothing. That wasn’t going to stop them however. They had the technology; they cloned suitable worker slaves by mixing local DNA with their own. They made themselves quasi-intelligent slaves and set them to work in mines, fields, construction, maintenance, bureaucratic support and entertainment. As the creatures increased in numbers the work of exploitation also increased and as to be expected, there developed major conflicts among the invaders as to who owned which parts of the planet and their rights to exploitation.

Diplomacy having failed, the aliens resorted to warring with each other. The cloned slaves were trained and armed to fight for their masters. Much bloodshed and destruction followed these internecine conflicts particularly in areas where weapons of mass destruction, chemical and nuclear, were used. The results of these conflicts would have been predictable but hubris and greed ruled the day. The world was rendered uninhabitable for the aliens and they left after removing as much of their technology as they could find. They had already learned to fear their cloned slaves.

The slaves, who were beginning to develop a greater sense of selfhood and independence had suffered many horrible deaths from the wars. The worst part was the mutations and the new diseases they were saddled with and prone to exhibit. Some mutations however proved successful. Powerful leaders of giant stature arose among the slave people and predictably the old enmity reasserted itself. Certain races claimed superiority and certain places for themselves and closed themselves away from others. The cloned females who had been designed as slaves of the males were enslaved within these new mutant societies although the constant border clashes and wars decimated so many males that in some areas the women were able to claim a share of equality, ownership and eventual leadership.

Climate change and diseases spread from proximity, caused a great die back among the slave races and as their numbers dwindled they moved away from each other in their quest for basic survival. For many years there was relative peace on the world as there were not enough survivors to launch any effective wars, nor could they imagine any need for such since there was more than enough space and food to accommodate all of them. They had stopped mining and collecting the “resources” they had been programmed to find having no more use for any of them. During those hunter-gatherer times as they are called, the masters were remembered as creator gods and any remembrance of their technology became the stuff of legends and tales of great magic.

The naturally imposed peace among the mutants wasn’t to last. The ancient hubris of the gods reasserted itself among certain groups of mutants. They also re-discovered some of their masters’ skills with metals and that turned to weaponry. That began an age of rampaging conquests that changed the face of the world forever.

That is where the tale ends for today.

“Does this world have a name?” asked a bright-eyed child.

“All worlds have names, child. This one, you give a name to.”

“How does the story really end?” asked another.

“That is up to you, isn’t it.” replied the story teller.

Part 3 – Message from Tara

This is part 3 of 3 of my “message from Tara” or message in a bottle from 1000 years into our possible/likely future. As Tara and the Teachers have made clear to me many times, this foreseeable future isn’t written in stone. We certainly have the power to cause a massive rift in the Matrix and change everything. How would that affect Tara and her world, her civilization as described here? It doesn’t matter, it’s the future. All it means is I’d get another bottle from the future  with an entirely different message.  Anyway, enjoy this last part.

Legacy of the Great Death: It feels wonderful to interact so freely, so expansively, with everything and everyone. It’s something you never really get used to; something you could never take for granted. You see, we all “remember” the past; where we come from and what we’ve been through to get here. This, in part, is what pushes us forward. We are ever anxious to leave the old ways behind forever, including this earth. None of us, of those who have lived to create this new era, would ever again desire to experience the past firsthand.

We live a most wonderful life and our all-encompassing passion is to better this life and spread it out in the universe. We know we have something good; that we have earned it; paid for it with blood that will never dry; that our knowledge can be of great help to others when we find them. We also know that we have outgrown Terra and that she wishes for us to be gone so she can ponder mothering another pseudo-ISSA species.

The Great Death shocked us out of our lethargic complicity towards the earth and all the oppressed on it. It gave us a painful new awareness of the meaning of life.

First, there was so much death we thought we were going to die off completely.

We came back to life, were “born again” as a species. We went from despair, to acceptance, to compassion for all that remained.

We mourned openly and loudly. In the end we had to confess our guilt and our responsibilities for all that befell us and the innocents we destroyed in our wake.

We dis-enfranchised all our so-called leaders who had led us to the Death with their greed, lasciviousness and blind ignorance.

We grew to rely strictly on one-another. We rejected all central authority.

We took charge of our social re-structuring.

We matured in heart and mind beyond anything this world had seen of us.

Then “they” came.  Not to save us, not to rescue, not to pity, but to help.  When we asked why now, they said,

“We heard your cries and saw your tears.  We feel that your change is genuine enough.  You have matured enough we can risk helping you.  We will decide by how much and in what way.”

So we formed bonds with our star families.  But not everything was good.  Some Earthians believed the star people were demonic invaders and there were killings.  But we learned from them that compassion is worth sacrificing one’s life for.  They did not retaliate nor abandon us. They were more careful and we still suffer painful distance from those early encounters.

Questions and more questions: As my mind searches for new questions to ask about the future I wonder about the really distant ones we “know” from our astral travel research but have yet to meet.  What are they like to meet corporeally on their own worlds? What would it be like living with them? What more can they teach us?  I feel an almost painful longing to get going. That is why I interact with the space drive engineers every moment I can spare. Looking for the “secret” to cross-galactic travel – worm holes, space-folding, time/space distortion, stacks, not only of nested worlds, but of universes and multi-verses, dimensional gates – whatever will serve.  We have to get out there.

It’s as if there is a call from “them” to us. I can feel this every day. It’s not just natural empathy, it’s something else, something new. Sometimes I image “them” coming to us in space-folding ships to take us, or some of us, to their homes in distant galaxies. I know I would not hesitate for one moment to go with them.

Don’t start imagining for a moment that I, as an individual, am particularly intelligent, smart or brilliant. On the scale of intelligence here, I’m actually below average. That’s why I am so well suited to my choice of purpose. It’s also why I’m so desperate to learn; to understand, however much of our current technology escapes me. I’m more of a mind-sharer; a healer. I experience a thrill in my heart when I know I’ve touched someone and made him or her feel better about their life in general. Empathy, that’s what I “do” best. I’m what is considered to be a very ordinary human, but see? I’m considered human: I’ve (we’ve!) made it! Wooeee, girl!

The Supracity as starship: Our supracity concept already anticipates the possibility we may develop a “field” of such energy that it will wrap a supracity entirely in a bubble to become a star ship carrying tens of millions of lives into space – a common enough idea even in the science-fiction of your time, but much more likely to happen with us. The supracity is self-sustaining and could survive in space for eons, “docking” here and there to refuel from gases and minerals.

Or, all the Supras (there are now a dozen of those that encompass the entire human species of earth) could join into a man-made world, a mini-system called a wheel-world, totally self-sustaining. While this is likely what will happen, I do not support that idea.  Too much like the nation-state again.  Too much like “us” on this spoke of the wheel versus “them” on that spoke with a kind of “united nations” complex at the centre of our world to meaninglessly and powerlessly adjudicate “world” issues. Back to central government?

Not again!  Not ever again! That is the only thing I fear, this recidivism, and why I want to leave our species behind forever. If it happens, I don’t want to see it and I certainly don’t want to be a part of it.

Nevertheless, try to imagine a dozen supracities lifting off the planet simultaneously – every man, woman and child, every ISSA but a few thousand observers to remain until their task is complete.  So, what are we talking about here?  Perhaps the greatest mass exodus of humanity of any world or time – entirely leaving a home world by consensus, by singular choice – not by force – when much less drastic possibilities or choices still exist.

For example, we could remain on our home world and trust ourselves enough to return “to the land” so to speak without returning to being exploiters or predators. We could opt to pioneer new worlds within the galaxy now being terraformed in anticipation of human habitation (not necessarily Earthian!). We could, theoretically, simply leave our bodies to Terra and release ourselves entirely from physicality or dependence on data storage and just “vanish” into and beyond “space” to enrich First Mind (if such exists – and only in doing this could we know.  We could also be committing genocide). All possibilities, all choices.  But for us (that is, you and I – me!) I know it will always be the stars.

I must tell you that “time” no longer controls us. We determine its passage, how much of “it” we will use up in working out a problem.  What you call a “day” in your artificial time measurement could be a hundred years here, or vice-versa. No one here ages unless they want to look the part.  Our minds, of course, age as they expand and become ever wiser and filled with more understanding and knowledge. That sort of aging is always a good thing: it leads to more life, not less. Now remember this: you can practice that in your own “time.” Teach yourself to run on two or more “time frames” simultaneously. The more you do it, the better you will become at it. You will need that skill soon enough.

Back to the day – the Function – “Hi honey, I’m home!”: The place where I’m booked is a giant hotel/office complex with entire sections of floors dedicated to permanent residency for those working here.  My destination is one of the residences where I am to meet the man with whom I will interact and accompany for the next several days, a high-level bionics engineer. I am greeted by the checker who validates my ID and enters it at my destination. As I expected, he escorts me to the elevator and becomes easily familiar – with my encouragement. I relay my thoughts on an answer I picked up for an enhanced space drive. He frowns. “I think” (he picts as he stands behind me and holds me) “your idea would work on a star ship but not inter-galactically. I see problems with force field generation – much stress on biological forms. Perhaps it could be done using robots, drones or androids to do the work while the humans are kept in cryogenic suspension, but any biological complex would be damaged or destroyed. And we haven’t solved the time problem.  Think about it and I’ll meet you (meaning in mind) at our next sharing session.” I touch him gently, lightly and kiss him-it’s expected as a kind of tip-on the lips. There is no possessiveness in our exchange – just a perfectly natural exchange of bodily energies – a balancing. I slip through the irised opening into a grav-well and I am taken to my floor.  “Hi honey, I’m home!”

Subject – temp morphing: I should tell you a little of our abilities to “temp” morph, or change our basic body shapes for an assignment.  For example, if the woman requested of the agency is, say, a blond Scandinavian and none is available, my auto-surgeon can perform minor alterations and activate enhancements that can change me to be such a person. It is also possible to acquire a working use of any current earth language in less than one hour. I could perform a one, maximum two-day function as a perfect Scandinavian type without problems, complete with affected accent should I be required to verbalize one. Of course those who call for me are informed that their provider is an enhanced model and that her morphing is only good for the specified amount of time, after which it must be removed.

The agency becomes the fairy godmother and Cinderella is Swedish until the clock strikes midnight… then back to the fireplace coals, the soot and rags?  I think not…

Bottom line is, in all of this we no longer have secrets of one-another, nor can we who have evolved and learned from the Death, harm or hurt another in thought, word or deed.  If anyone has any thing another needs, it is offered.  That’s what it means to be human today. Exceptions, yes, but few and declining. Compare that to your times.

And that is what we always wanted to achieve, wasn’t it? So take comfort in knowing that despite the horrors your times have yet to endure, we have succeeded. We are well on the way to gain what we longed for. And when we break free of our transportation limitations, we will have so much more when we share this with other ISSA beings… out there, beyond our own stars. Perhaps it may even be possible to corporeally travel into the past, to “you” as this message did. Interesting thought, don’t you think? We could function as identical twins. I’ll call us “Youme”!

Closing comments: Are we happy?  The concept has lost its meaning for us (and doubtless it never really had any meaning for your times either – the term is a social convenience) because it is subjective and whimsical. I suppose we are happy to be questing for an ever-better future, whatever the dangers we face. We know we cannot turn back. But our quest is not stoic. We explore and share as much within as without and we exchange much laughter and banter – except we never laugh “at” anymore – only “with.” Please note the distinction and remember this next time you observe some comedian of your day making “jokes” – note how much of it depends on belittling someone, something in any number of ways that can elicit crudely unguarded laughter. The step from this to murder is so short, it hardly exists.

Wonder not why you are not evolving, either mentally or physically. When the mind goes stagnant, the body goes into decline because it is not respected.

I don’t know about being happy. I do know this: we know joy because we have known the greatest of sorrow. We are a joyful people.

Have we given up too much to gain too little? I don’t think so. I think that when we consciously, as a species, not a race, decided to leave our parochial, racist, patriarchal thinking behind, that what we lost and what we are going to abandon is nothing compared to what we are about to gain… We are not only going to discover new (to us!) worlds, galaxies, universes even, but our search has re-awakened what was lost in the dark ages of earth: God in infinity.

What that means I can’t say for certain but I know that I too must “touch the face of God.” I’ve always maintained that we are not God – such a thought is ludicrous – but we were originally designed (purposefully engineered to my way of thinking) to seek and to find. But not “where” nor “when” – not here, not there, but everywhere, though no such place exists until it is found – for it is spirit.

We survived our apocalypse. We have given up many false beliefs to become essentially a real people under an umbrella of true spirituality. From body, to mind, to spirit, we ever ascend following the sine wave of life.

And now to close, as our friend YLea taught us: “As below, so above.”

I realize now what she meant. From “here” I create “there.” From my present I make my future. From below I make the above. From whatever ingredients, recipe and heat setting I use, that is what I must expect to get out of the oven. If I put potatoes in, I cannot expect to pull out an apple pie.

As you say in your time, be well and don’t lose heart in your coming and certain trials. Remember I am the proof that you are strong enough to go through the coming tribulations and become the healer you always wanted to be.

Our future is: always.

Your alter-ego, Tara EarthStar or “Tess”

Short glossary:

Function – All humans with physical (corporeal) form must have a function that can only be performed in physical form deemed of value to the entire polis to qualify for corporeality.

*ISSA – Intelligent Sentient Self Aware, as defining a true human.

grav-well or grav-transport: force fields of traction beams used for horizontal or vertical transport to any part of a supracity, all part of the city’s self-contained energy grid.

Supracity: megalopolis – the singular city of a territory or region. A region or territory can only have one city.

Partials: Duplicate projection of an original human (or any ISSA) representing the original and operated by a part of the original’s mind – hence the term.