[Voice from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]
[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]
When we’re young it’s basically impossible to consider life past, say, the age of 50. Now so many of us live in what was then called “old age” in better or worse financial and health conditions. I just watched “The Notebook” movie again – probably for the 5th time at least. I’ll never get tired of that story, it’s so well told. You’d think that a love relationship with such stormy and crazy beginnings wouldn’t have any hope of succeeding. But in this story, it does, and it’s ending is wonderful and perfect.
I like a line James Garner says in the movie: “I’m experiencing wearing down.” Many people feel that way in my age bracket. We are indeed wearing down. A whole gamut of emotions follows this wearing down. For some it’s a blessing, for most, I’d say it’s never acknowledged, and for others, it is feared and fought to the end. It does mean that we are approaching our rendezvous with death. However poetically one phrases that, it is not a pleasant thought – honestly.
I am of those, perhaps having been raised quite strictly religious, who not only believes that life goes on beyond the body, but that it does so in full consciousness and “I” continue to live my life, replete with choices and destiny. Later, when I overcame the need for religion, and the need to be totally dependent upon the caprices of some god, the inner knowing that life is eternal and infinite did not go away with my religion. It was, in fact, the one thing from my religion(s) that remained true, if only for me. (I think that in the realm of eternity, such choice to believe or not is entirely up to an individual, a sacred belief that no one has the right to either deny anyone, or force on anyone.)
Does that awareness make it easier to face the reality of death? Not for me. I don’t like the idea at all, even if, being of those who remembers past lives, I’ve gone through the process before. It is the place where one, alone and helpless, faces the ultimate stripping of attachments to this life.
For those who cannot believe in continuance, death is the end. The termination of all awareness. That, to me, would be unbearable. I think one has to be incredibly courageous to meet death with such stoicism.
For those, like myself, who “know” (as in some sort of unshakeable awareness) that life continues, the passage nevertheless is fraught with questions and trepidation. I know, for example, of the many things I did (in this one life) that makes me a poor candidate for any sort of, shall we say, graduation to something better. Countless thoughts, words and deeds must be there, ready to accuse me. Is there some balance, some way that thoughts, words and deeds of the non-selfish variety can outweigh the others? I honestly do not know. There must be justice, that I know.
So as I inevitably wear down; as I come closer and closer to death (of the body) I ponder such things. I don’t know what to expect, not exactly. I have some ideas, some thoughts, on the matter but where are the facts?
There aren’t any. So what do I have to offer, if indeed some sort of judgment is in the offing? Very little. I can offer a changed life, from selfishness to detachment and self-empowerment in order to practice compassion and develop empathy. I can offer forgiveness, certainly, that having been one of the easiest lessons to learn. I can offer my personal commitment to my chosen purpose of a life lived to serve others – however much that effort remains wanting. Beyond that, I have nothing to give in exchange for some sort of pass. Perhaps that “nothingness” is what is needed?
Life is truly short and throughout its meteoric passage it never stops from asking us to make meaningful and life-affirming choices in all things. If only we weren’t so spiritually and mentally deaf to the teachings we are given so freely, and all the time. If only such would suffice to turn us from our baseless fears and selfishness that make us such bad stewards of our world and of those who need our compassion now more than ever just to survive. If only…
“Throughout history, empires and civilizations have collapsed once they degrade the environment below its capacity to carry the human footprint imposed on the environment.” – Paul Craig Roberts
“When you are small, if you reach out, and nobody takes your hand, you stop reaching out, and reach inside, instead.” — Amanda Eyre Ward
“Nothingness is a sigh of eternity, a casual avowal of the infinite.” — Edmond Jabès, The Book of Resemblances.
[short story – by Sha’Tara]
At first it just caused a bit of stir locally and I wouldn’t have thought much of it if I hadn’t been goaded by my brother to follow up on the case. “There’s something here that needs exposure” he told me.
An unknown woman had been arrested for practicing medicine without a license. Well, in the current wave of political uncertainty, and, OK, let’s call a spade a spade, craziness, that in itself should not have merited a packed court room.
But it did. Let me tell you the story as I witnessed some of it, participated in some and as the rest was told to me by a source.
My name is Keith Darbour. I’m a free lance reporter – my passion – but I hold “real” jobs to pay the bills. Freelance reporting these days of national paranoia and corporate press ownership and control isn’t what it used to be. I mean, hell, this used to be thought of as a free country. I can tell you, that is no longer the case. But I digress. Back to the case.
As I said, the courtroom is packed. “All rise.” Judge Judy Kean sits at her desk. There is only one item on her agenda today. The defendant, a young, tall and slim woman with long wavy dark hair and exotic skin enters between two female guards. She sits at the prisoner’s dock. The prelims over, the jury having already been selected, both lawyers make their opening statements. Basically, the State: practicing medicine without a license. The defence: extenuating circumstances.
I’ll make my prelims short. There was a bus accident. Several people were injured, some seriously. It was thought a child was even dead. The defendant (so it is assumed at this point) arrived on the scene and provided first aid and more. The victims, some now present in the court room as witnesses, claimed that she was able to reach inside their bodies, reset bones, stop haemorrhaging, heal severe tears in skin almost instantly and calm the rest. Every person affected in the accident walked away healed. Ambulances and police came, of course, but it became clear at the outset that none of the victims required further help, and many even loudly and vociferously refused such help.
The woman was arrested for healing, oh, excuse me, “practicing medicine” without a license and jailed. Today is her trial. Let’s see what comes of this hard to believe situation. Let’s see how evolved we are, as a society, as a civilization.
Prosecution approaches the defendant and asks her name.
“Under your name rules, translated to the best of my ability, my name is A-125-04-H. I believe your police erroneously entered my name as Alice Haley. If you wish, I can use that name.”
“We want your real name, miss. Can you give us that?”
“I did that, sir. My name is A-125-04-H”
“Very well, please explain what that means for the court.”
“Certainly sir. I am Android, series 125, batch 04, category: Healer. That is what I am, and what I am programmed by my makers, to perform. I was built to heal whenever I encountered damage to sentient life. That is what I am and I cannot change that programming, even if I wanted to, which of course I would not.”
Judge: “Do you understand miss Haley what ‘contempt of court’ means? Do you understand that the court has authority over you here as long as you remain a suspect in a very serious crime?”
“Yes I understand that very well, but I must make a clarification to your claim of authority over me. You have jurisdiction, but not authority, unless I grant you that right, and I must make it very clear that my programming prevents me from doing so. Therefore I state: you have no authority over me. Only my programmers do.”
Titters ran through the crowd. The judge rapped her gavel, “Order. Any more interruptions and I will clear this court.” I can tell you she sounded very annoyed and her anger was barely restrained.
“Young lady, I have full authority in this courtroom, including over you. I have the authority to stop this and have you returned to jail pending an appeal. Is that what you want? I won’t have people making fun of this court, or me, understand?”
“Yes, I understand of course. What I don’t understand is why the truth appears to be such an obstacle to getting on with the facts surrounding my arrest. Isn’t that why I’m here? I tell you the truth, witnesses corroborate, and the judgment must be that I be set free. My “crime” your honour, is practising medicine without a licence. But it’s my nature to heal damaged life; my programming is my license….”
Gavel again. “Stop. You will not turn this courtroom into a circus. We will have you tell us your real name or you will be in contempt and you will go to a psychiatric institution for observation. Is that clear?”
Prosecution: “May I continue, your honour?”
“Miss Haley, I’ll take that to be your maiden name, where do you live?”
“Galactic quadrant C-5, planet Abergani. It’s all in my implant but there is no technology here that can read it. I’m sorry, that’s the best I can do.”
“Do you do drugs, miss Haley?”
“I understand what your question means. In that sense the answer is no, I don’t. Androids do not ingest either for sustenance or self-pleasuring. It would negatively affect our metabolism.”
“You continue to claim you are an android. Does this mean you are not human?”
“Yes. I am essentially a machine. I am not human, as you understand the term.”
“Uhuh!” Turns to the jury with a sarcastic smile and a shrug. Smiles from the jurors. “How did you get here?”
“Best guess, an error or a miscalculation in the part of those who sent me out to help in a disaster in quadrant D-8. This, according to my calculations, is quadrant Y-17, sol system X-092, and this is called planet Tiam-2, which you call “earth. Oh, there’s been a disaster in a country you call Yemen – I should be going there now – may I be excused?”
Smiling broadly, the prosecutor states, “This isn’t a classroom, miss. Just sit there and answer my questions.”
“But people are dying. I could be saving their lives now. I’m being conflicted in my response to programming. Oh, wait. I do not need to obey you, you are not human – only pseudo-human. I can leave.”
“No, sorry but… where did she go?”
I need not add, the court exploded in complete disarray. The defendant literally faded in front of over one hundred people who were all looking at her. But that wasn’t going to be the end of it because some moments later “Alice” re-appeared. There was slight smile on her small but perfect face. She seemed completely at peace.
“I’m sorry about that interruption. I just had to go and help. It’s taken care of for now. Please continue.” I could barely hear her over the hubbub but finally everybody settled and it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
“How did you do that little disappearing trick?”
“I did not disappear sir, I cannot do that. I simply shifted dimensionally. It’s easily enough done over tiny distances like the circumference of a planet. I only had to shift over half-way, manipulate your time, perform my duty and return.”
“Why did you not “shift dimensionally” and leave the jail then?”
“I did. Many times. If I may say so sir, madam judge, your world is in a terrible mess. You must do something about all the pain and death your species inflicts on itself and on other life forms. This is a very unhealthy state of affairs that will not bode you well in the near future.”
Judge, still not recovered from the shock of having a defendant simply disappear from the prisoner’s dock, then reappear a few moments later, stares at the defendant. “Miss Haley, will you promise to remain here while I confer in chambers?”
“In chambers – now, and I mean now. No, no notes!” (The following I got from the defence counsel later in the day.)
In chambers, Judge Kean: “Can either of you explain this circus act to me? Am I being made fun of here? Who is the escape artist in the dock?”
Prosecutor: “My question also judge. We’re being played here, question is, who’s behind this, and what’s the point?”
Defence: “Come on. You saw it for yourselves. She disappeared and came back. She’s smart, sure of herself, rattles off information that’s obviously real to her. What if she’s exactly what she says she is?”
Judge: “Is there a way we can prove it?”
Defence: “Two that come to mind. Check the computer, what’s going on in Yemen. How about we ask her to seriously cut herself and watch her heal herself?”
Judge: “Well, here’s the situation. There was a bombing of a school in Yemen about half an hour ago. There was apparently much carnage but after some minutes all of the victims walked out of the wreckage as if nothing happened. They all refused medical help and went to their respective homes. There is even a picture here of a woman walking among the ruins of the school but she’s wearing the mandatory hijab with which she covers part of her face. Can’t be identified. Doesn’t that sound a lot like the bus accident though? Same reaction from the healed victims. OK, as much as I hate grandstanding, this can only be resolved with a demonstration. I’ll ask her to cut herself and heal herself. Let’s just see what her reaction to that will be.”
Judge re-entering the court. “Thank you for your patience. We will now ask for a demonstration that will tell us if the defendant is in fact telling the truth, or making a mockery of this court. Alice Haley, please stand.”
The woman stood, still with that completely peaceful look on her face. Waiting.
Judge: “I’m going to ask you to prove yourself to me, to the jury and this entire court. I want you to take the knife that will be given to you and to slice your arm open. Then I want you to heal yourself so we can all see. Can you do that, “Android”?
Alice: “It isn’t a question of whether I can, or cannot. Of course I can do that. The problem is, self-harming is against my programming. I cannot do it, however much I’d want to. Someone else will have to cut my arm, and I will then demonstrate my healing skills for you.”
“Assuming you are telling us the truth, and we checked up on your Yemen story which seems to validate what you told us, then I will ask for a volunteer to cut your arm. Anyone?”
I can assure you there were no takers. Who in any kind of right mind would walk up to a passive young woman and simply cut her arm open, just to prove a point? Nuts, right? I looked over the courtroom to see if anyone would have the courage to volunteer. And I thought, well, that includes me, doesn’t it. … Me… Do I have the guts to do such a thing? Come on, somebody, volunteer, I thought, but no one did. So it was down to me, Keith Darbour, freelance journalist and private investigator. I got up slowly. “Seems like no one is volunteering so maybe, I mean, I think I should then.”
“Thank you. Your name sir?”
“Keith Darbour, your honour.”
“Ah yes, I’ve heard of you somewhere. You’re a journalist?”
“Yes your honour.”
“Would you come down here please, and do as you are asked to?” I was in it now, couldn’t back out. I was handed a wicked looking hunting knife – who knows where that came from! – and told to stand beside the defendant. She looked at me and smiled as she lifted her left arm so I could grab her wrist. I was shaking like a leaf in the wind until she put her right hand on my shoulder and suddenly everything seemed all right, normal. I lay the knife on the lovely skin and slashed across veins and tendons. There was no explosion of blood, just some clear liquid flowing out slowly. She took her arm from my grip and wrapped her right hand around the “wound” and when she removed her hand there was no sign of the cut. She was still smiling as if the whole thing was a bit of a joke. Which to her it must have been. Such primitives, she must have thought.
Judge: “Raise your left arm, please, miss Haley.” She did and turned it around for all to see that there was no harm done at all. She had never screamed, never expressed any pain, not even winced while I slashed her. It was, well, amazing? More, it was a revelation.
So what could they do but let her go? They knew they couldn’t hold her in any case; that she wasn’t doing any harm, quite the opposite. Now you’re probably wondering, assuming you believe this tale, where she is at the moment. What can I tell you? I wanted to interview her but she “disappeared” almost as soon as she was told she was free to go. I tried to locate her through the Internet alternative media, looking for some weird news about mass healings somewhere, anywhere, but found nothing certain. Rumours and more rumours, and huge “alternate facts” spin-outs from the court hearing. Do yourselves a favour: don’t tune in the Alex Jones’ Infowars for information, he’s got hold of the court story and has gone deeper down his rabbit hole than ever before.
What do I think? I like to think that she’s not only out there, healing people and teaching compassion, but calling more of her kind to assist her. We could do with more of her kind practicing medicine without a license. In fact we could do with more of our own kind doing the same thing because these days, really, it seems rather obvious that having the license and charging for services rates much higher than actually having any healing success. By success I mean that after the medical coteries are done with you, you should be thoroughly healed, not become a crippled dependent on more “specialists” and drugs, ’til death do us part, Amen.
[a short story by Sha’Tara]
Lanky Andy, Andrew Larkin, walked into “The Odyssey” restaurant at exactly 1800 hours. He allowed his transitioning photochromic lenses to clear enough so he could scan the seats. Eddie, Edward Aberhart, was seated in a booth halfway down the window aisle, facing the entrance door. He waved at Andy.
“Jees… Jesus Eddie, you look like shit. What’s up? What’s with the ‘I need to see you right away, like today!’ call?”
“It’s like this Andy. I’m at the end of my rope, OK? I’ve been thinking about things for years now and it’s turned into a bloody nightmare. I keep asking myself, ‘Is is worth it? What am I doing here? What’s the point of anything, anything at all.’ and nothing seems right, feels right, tastes right.”
“What does Linda have to say about your, um, nightmare?”
“Linda’s gone. She packed up, went back to her family down south. I haven’t spoken to her since she left, that’d be about two months ago. Just packed up while I went uptown, loaded up the car, took Jessie with her and left me a note on the kitchen table: ‘I’m going to stay with mom for a bit until I can get a job at the hospital down there. I know a doctor, I’ve got excellent references as an ER nurse, I’ll get a job. Please, don’t call me, don’t call mom, just vanish from our lives. If you follow, I’ll get an injunction based on emotional abuse. I don’t care what you do Eddie, just disappear from my life; from our lives. You’ve become creepy, sick, but not something I can do anything about. I won’t let you drag us into your nightmare. Goodbye Eddie.’ and that’s it.”
“Well, nothing like a cheery get together to get things rolling.”
A busty, dark “Greek” looking waitress came by, took their orders and said their drinks would be right up.
‘I sure hope so’ thought Andy. ‘I need a drink, the kind that helps you put your thoughts together, then wipes them out so you can enjoy life again, if only for a day.’
Although the place was three quarters full, it being Saturday evening after all, the drinks miraculously showed up within three minutes. Eddie fingered the cold condensation on the outside of his glass. He didn’t pick it up, didn’t drink, just stared as if he was reading a message. Andy sipped on his, smacked his lips then swallowed the entire glass, waving at a waitress for a refill.
“All right, goddamn it Eddie, you got me here. Don’t tell me you’re just going through another of your emotional bullshit phases. I had enough of that shit with you in college. Let’s cut to the chase, what’s eating you?”
“I’m really sorry Andy but my life sucks. I hate teaching and I don’t believe anything the curriculum makes me teach the kids so I can’t really motivate them. Well, how could I? I can’t motivate myself any longer.
“You know I used to attend the ‘Life Force’ Pentecostal church, where I met Linda, right? I thought I had some sort of relationship with God. It felt good, right, proper and my life made sense. I joined the Lions’ Club to be of service in the community and that reinforced my belief that life had purpose. I married Linda and I was sure I really loved her. Jessie’s birth, now that was some celebration after all the scare that she would be abnormal – nothing wrong with that kid. I had it all and then it all went away. I mean it, Andy: it just evaporated. Like I fell in some big black bottomless hole. That’s where I’m talking to you from: a black pit of despair, falling with nothing to hang on to. Can you accept that? I’m not asking you to understand, just accept this is how it is.”
“Do you want me to lie to you?”
“OK then, I can’t – no, let me put it more clearly for you: I won’t accept it. I’m a rational person, Eddie. If something fucks up upstairs, it’s up to me to go up there and straighten it up. There’s no Chimera up there that’s going to take over and fuck up my life – not before now, not now, and not ever in the future. I wouldn’t let it happen. That’s my answer to your asking me to accept your current state of mind: I don’t because if I did, then I’d have to try to understand it next – and I’m simply not going there. I don’t play mind games Eddie. My own life is controlled; some people say I’m as hard as a rock, well fine, that to me is high praise. That’s why you stuck with me through college too, you needed that hardness to put grit into your own mush, Eddie.
“What the fuck, man. You are the one who got Linda, you whiny wimp of an excuse for a man. She went for you because she felt sorry for you most of the time. But I was the one who loved her Eddie. How often I imagined what we could have done as a couple, as a team. A doctor and a nurse, and I would have pushed her to get her medical degree too. We would have been all over the world, helping people, I mean really helping. A team on fire. Fuck you Eddie, you miserable excuse for a human being. I feel so sorry for you right now I want to punch in that baby face of yours. Goddam it, I don’t believe this.”
“Why have you never told me of your feelings for Linda until now? I didn’t know, honest.”
“Of course you didn’t know, you self-absorbed little shit. All that’s ever really mattered to you was you and your precious feelings. ‘I joined the Lions’ club to be of service to the community.’ Such a crock. You joined to find support for your insecurities – tell me honestly that isn’t true.”
“Ah hell Andy, I didn’t call you here for you to beat up on me. I’m down, Andy. I can’t take this. Is this fun for you, crushing what’s left of a total loser?”
“OK, OK, I’ll back off if you’ll level with me and tell me what’s really the problem. What’s the cause of your black pit of despair, Eddie? What’s this Gremlin you’ve got on your back that you can’t shake off this time?”
“The honest truth, Andy: the world, and my life in it. Have you followed the news lately? With all the crap that’s going on and that keeps arising all over, is it really worth it? Is there some point to it? The world’s in a shambles, what am I supposed to do? Ignore it? Carry on like what’s her name, Pollyanna?
“I wake up in the middle of the night and I have visions, terrible visions, of things happening to thousands of people, horrible things. And I feel guilty about it all, I can’t help myself, and the guilt won’t go away. It’s like everything bad that happens is my fault. I’m responsible somehow, as if I were a puppet and I was being played, forced to watch; forced to link my lifestyle to the problems of other people. If I enjoy something, they go without. If I eat, they starve. If I have a house to live in, they are homeless. If I have rights, they are enslaved. If I’m free, they are in prison. I’m cursed, Andy; I’m the other side of the coin.”
As their food was being served, Andy didn’t answer. He moved some plates around, ordered another drink, looked up at Eddie and said, “Ed, drink your fucking drink, right now.”
The waitress looked up, a shocked look on her face. “Sorry, that’s between my friend and I here. Please bring him another drink, he’s going to need it.”
The waitress almost scampered away. Andy started eating and felt ravenous. He swallowed, then started to laugh. Not so loud as to cause embarrassment but so Eddie would hear it and stare at him.
“You find something amusing, Andy?” Eddie put his empty glass down, looked into Andy’s eyes.
“My problems are amusing to you? I thought doctors were supposed to be empathetic.”
“Some are but it’s definitely not a trade requirement. If it was most of us would be out of work tomorrow. But this has nothing to do with me being a doctor, or you a high school teacher. We’ve been dancing around a much more serious business called life. You asked me, is it worth it? Before I answer that, give me a rational alternative to what you call life.”
“That’s a nuts question. How can there be a rational alternative to life?”
“Ah, got you there haven’t I?”
“I don’t have any answer for you. Are you talking about an alternative to life? How can there be such a thing?”
“Have you heard of NDE’s or near death experiences that some people claim to have had?”
“Vaguely. Here and there. There’s no proof of such a thing actually happening. Just the brain reacting in a crisis when life is on the line.”
“Exactly!” Andy drank some more and it seemed his drinks were tasting better each time. So did the food. “Got to congratulate you, Eddie, this is one hell of a fine restaurant. Not fancy, but you can’t beat this food, or the drinks either. Don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself more at a meal. Go ahead, dig in, dig in. This is fantastic!”
“What do you mean, ‘Exactly’?”
“I said there was no proof that NDE’s are real experiences and you said, ‘Exactly.'”
“And I meant every word!” Andy laughed at the puzzled expression in his friend’s face and noticed that outside, the world had gone dark except for street lights and the lampshades over the booths made new shadows.
“Ease up on the drinks, Andy, you’re losing it.”
“Actually I’m getting it, Eddie.”
“Care to explain?” He took a serious drink and suddenly felt himself unwind. As if something good was going to happen. Imagine that: nothing good had seemed to happen for ages. He knew it wasn’t the drink, nor the food. Anticipation. He actually felt it.
“I never realized it until now,” said Andy. “About you, I mean. I always thought you were somewhat of a sissy, a wimp you know, going around feeling sorry for yourself, bringing people into your circle to empathize with you. But that wasn’t it at all. You were just confused, selling yourself short, unaware of your own nature, thus unable to take advantage of it.” He seemed to look at Eddie with some sort of awe. “I never knew; never suspected even.”
“Would you tell me what you’re going on about, Andy? You’re confusing me and I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
“Oh just wait. I haven’t had half enough. I’ve been a fool, Eddie, a complete idiot. I’m the one who’s been totally self-centered and blind. You know what you are, buddy?”
“Hey, this is getting scary. What am I? Some sort of Reptilian alien?” Eddie smiled, ate some, enjoyed it. “You going to keep me in suspense?”
“No. I’ve got it. You, my very dear friend and pain in the ass, are an empath. A real, honest to God empath. That’s what explains your angst, you visions, your despair; your deep questioning of the purpose of life. You feel it man, you feel it all and you have never learned how to deal with it. You’re supposed the “channel” this stuff, not keep it bottled up. It’s not about you, it’s about this world, and how life evolves or adapts itself within. That life needs to communicate; to give itself messages and in human terms, those messages are carried by empaths.
“When I said, “exactly” I meant it: it’s all based on empathy. There’s no need of proof once you pass a certain point, or reach a certain level of evolution – it just is. I’m a surgeon and I know a bit about NDE’s. I’ve had talks with quite a few patients who, after thanking me for saving their life, went on to describe their experiences under anaesthesia when they experienced clinical death. I was interested but never convinced beyond what you said: brain reaction.
“But it wasn’t that, don’t you see? These NDE people are empaths! They crossed over and came back because their nature provided the bridge between the physical world of their body and the spirit, or mental, world inhabited by their consciousness. I remember talking about this with Linda. She didn’t make the connection between NDE’ers and empathy, but she accepted the experience as very real. Goddam Eddie, she was right! I just needed to see the connecting thread and you just showed it to me. Your angst is your connection to others, Eddie. You’re not cursed, you are blessed, old friend.”
“If that’s the case, shouldn’t it have made me selfless and compassionate instead of the loser wimp you see before you?”
“No, I see it now, that’s not how it works. You needed teachers and you didn’t get them – luck of the draw I suppose. You needed to be taught self-empowerment and self-reliance. That’s where the rubber hits the road I bet. That’s where it comes together and changes you completely. Think about it, Eddie. Think about it long and seriously. While you’re on top of that, teach yourself about channelling – pass it on, don’t keep it in. You’re watching the movie, you’re not in the story being chased by those demons, though they are real. You can sense them but they don’t know you exist. That’s your key and your power. You can exert influence upon the stories in your mind if you learn how to transmute the information then upload it in its changed form. I read about this stuff; it’s amazing I never got it until now. You: you’re the key. You’re the Avatar. You’re the one making it happen now, right now, while you’re outside of yourself.
“Is that my alternative to life?”
“Yes. You see, there isn’t just one form of life, there are infinite types of life. People like yourself, well, they can slip in and out of any form they choose. You have the power to do that and that’s how you survive in worlds given over to violence like this one. You don’t stay in the line of fire, you duck, you live to fight another day. But you’re always on the front lines regardless of where you go in your mind.”
“You missed your calling, you should have been a preacher. I’m sold. Just hoping it isn’t the drinks talking, or feeling.”
“It isn’t the drinks. This is like a revelation. I’m sold too. I’m no empath, I know that, but you know who else is?”
“You bet, Linda. And buddy, I’m going after her. I love her; I’ve always loved her and I’m going to make it up to her for not pushing my way between the two of you. Got that?”
“Yes, I got that. It’s how it’s got to be.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “I know you’ll be good for her, and you’ll take good care of Jessie. Let me know when you guys are married, or settled. I’d like to visit.”
“I’ll do that. No, I mean we’ll do that.”
[thoughts from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]
I’ll begin with a question: can we live without hope? Such a fascinating question. There are three “famous” virtues in the Christian N.T: faith, hope and love, and the writer concludes by claiming that the greatest of these is love. Is this true?
I think it’s fascinating to observe people feel impelled to continue on, to defend, concepts or “forces” such as the three most famous: faith, hope and love, that are obviously “there” but as obviously do not produce the claimed results, i.e., do not perform as advertised. Yet regardless of failed results, there remains a world-wide need, a necessity, to express these forces in whatever way.
Of hope, this is what Alexander Pope had to say about it:
“Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest.
The soul, uneasy, and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.”
(In this context, “expatiates” essentially means to speculate.)
In other areas of life, let’s say the less emotional ones, when something doesn’t work, we stand back and say, “To hell with this, it doesn’t work.” and proceed to find something that does. Why waste precious life energy? Would you keep a car that only started once in a blue moon? Would you keep a sewing machine that keeps fouling the thread and breaking needles? If you had a leaking roof, would you just walk around the puddles, accepting that as normal, or would you fix it, and if it could not be fixed, move to a different house?
Take love, what hasn’t been said about love; done in the name of love? Love is sought by most, usually to feel good, sometimes to share good things with another, or others, and in seeking the experience of selfless giving, that being the rarest aspect of love giving. Personal experience and deep study of the concept does not seem to support selfless love as being ubiquitous.
Peace is even more entangled with the negative. A glaring example: we can accept certain uses of the military as “peace keepers” walking through conquered or pacified countries or cities, fully armed, ready to kill. Seldom do we stop to reason that such an approach to peace (overwhelming force de frappe) cannot possibly ever work – nor do we realize it has never worked because it is the antithesis of any sane concept of peace. We have peace demonstrations or peace marches, using force to demand peace, again a complete contradiction. When “peace” is gained that way, we replace the oppressive structure with another equally oppressive.
Evolution demands that we give up our pet beliefs in favour of common sense. What time and again hasn’t worked, will simply not work. Why don’t we “get it”?
The problem with forces like love and peace is simple: they have no staying or sustaining power. Essentially they are placebos, installed in the brainwashing apparatus to keep people believing in things that neither will, nor can, ever be. To succeed in our evolution away from the madness of racism, war, genocide, misogyny, homophobia and countless others, we need something much more meaningful than the fake energies imposed by Matrix programming. We need something that takes over a life and makes it its own. Only then can the programming be broken.
In the case of love, that translates as compassion. The compassionate being becomes an avatar of compassion, no longer by vocation or choice but by nature. Transmutation, if you like. An irreversible, permanent condition.
Notice that one can “love” but one cannot “compassion.” One cannot “do” compassion, one can only become compassion until one is irretrievably lost in it. Maybe that’s what frightens people about certain energies: they fear being taken over by something bigger than themselves, something they cannot control or choose to back out of. Yet they give their complete allegiance; their hearts and minds to evil powers readily enough, believing (that’s where faith comes in) they can squeeze something good out of evil-based forces that can only bring devastation, be they gods or earthly rulers. As in, you can’t make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.
Compassion changes an individual into an empathetic entity. It makes it possible for an individual to exist, or to “walk between the worlds” of flesh and spirit, to act as a conduit between the joy and the sorrow of planetary life and beyond.
Of note: this state of beingness can never be achieved from any collective. Neither a romantic relationship, family, tribe, nation or race, nor any other type of grouping will ever develop compassion. It can only come from a personal, individual commitment. Contrary to popular belief and the constant barrage of brainwash from society, we aren’t tribes, groups, nations, languages. We are ISSA beings, billions of individuals who, in order to evolve beyond the deadly trappings of religion, politics or competitive predatory capitalism, need to define themselves as individuals through individual self-empowerment and deliberate detachment from any and all collectives.
Compassion is how that is achieved. It is the key that unlocks the chains of slavery now holding billions captive to useless and deadly concepts. This is what I’ve been taught, and what I’ve been working on for nigh on 40 years now. It is not a comfortable, feel-good, nor safe place to be in, but more so than living in the old unreliable alternative paradigms of selfishness, greed, fear and hate.
Many decades ago, as I finally exited Christianity I rejected all three major Christian virtues in order to re-direct my life, replacing all with just one: compassion.
The question was, can anyone live without hope? Yes, anyone can live without hope because hope is misdirection. It keeps telling people that things can be what they obviously aren’t, and that’s leading people to accept living in denial. Faith does the same thing, and so does love. These are emotions, nothing more. If we knew for certain who we are, we wouldn’t need placebos to make life bearable, we would have the power to live our life with assurance that we are doing the right thing from self-empowerment. Our problems stem from not knowing ourselves and from relying on false information to define our individual lives. That’s what we need to change: we need to become enlightened enough to stand alone in detachment and self-empowerment.
As long as we rely on fake help, we will remain dis-empowered and we will continue to fail in achieving our greatest dreams. We will continually fall back into the hands of psychopathic “gods” and leaders who only seek our “perdition” for the simple reason that our weakness is what empowers them.
Conclusion: A compassionate being learns how to walk between the worlds of matter and spirit, experiencing sorrow and joy as foundations of duality; never fears death; understands the infinite and eternal aspect of life and carries on “as if” their own life didn’t matter, knowing that the avatar of compassion, if not immortal, is eternal.
(ISSA: acronym for Intelligent, Sentient, Self Aware)
Dreams and visions. They come to those who seek them; who seek understanding in all the places where society, civilization, the System, the Status Quo or “The Matrix” insist there can be no understanding except through blind belief and blind obedience. It insists that everyone must follow the pattern laid out by the Powers that Be, from “God” on down. Anyone can own a piece of the puzzle if that piece is handed down from those in authority. If it isn’t then it’s illegitimate, illegal, blasphemous, immoral – take your pick: you are not supposed to have it and must destroy it, or hand it back to the authorities to be destroyed (or hidden in their underground vaults). If you insist on keeping unauthorized information you place yourself in danger of the “Inquisition” – and be certain that said Inquisition exists within every form of totalitarian power, whether it be religious, scientific, academic, political or financial. Those who have stood against the Inquisition know what I’m writing about. Take Galileo; Julian Assange, Joan of Arc, Salman Rushdie, Chelsea Manning… and speaking of “whistleblowers” – check out the list on Wikipedia. So many others who spent their lives in prison, were executed and tortured to death because they held to a truth that was denied by the System. Also, if the subject interests you, read up on how the biblical prophets were treated in their days as they pointed out the error of the ways of Israel… errors which caused many a terrible conquest and diaspora; errors which are being repeated today by that same nation and which will have the same ends, for ways not changed means of certainty that history must repeat itself for Earthian humanity.
World Bridger (a vision)
(from the files of ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara)
In the darkness, I heard a deep voice echoing. It said: “You are Tara, daughter of Earth, you are a Planet Bridger…” As I peered into the dark, which was the dark of space, I saw two planets orbiting. Then the voice continued: “In the depths of space, two twin worlds move slowly towards each other through the eons of time… Soon they will come close enough to each other for a bridge to be formed…”
I looked at these two twin worlds. One was pristine, beautiful, green, lush, full of life. Its waters were blue and clear. Everywhere was a sense of pure joy. The other was the opposite: it was blighted, polluted, desecrated. Smoke swirled around it, and on its surface people ran here and there aimlessly. There were wars being fought, and famine was rampant. There were plagues and diseases of all kinds. Pain, misery and death marked the passage of time there…
When these two worlds approached one another, at some perfect timing, a ball of reddish/golden light appeared between the two planets. Inside this ball of light was a being apparently sleeping. Then, I found myself there: I was that being, Tara, the Bridger. I awakened from my sleep and began to stretch myself. As I did so, I emerged from the ball of light and it vanished.
In space, I stretched my feet towards the pristine world and I saw them enter the soil and become a part of the landscape. I could feel the well-being of it, the invitation to share in its bounty. I stretched my head to the wrecked and wretched planet, and when I touched it, my hair, which flowed in abundance, entered that soil like millions of roots, and I became a part of that world. I felt the burning of it, an unwholesome uncomfortable feeling within my head.
Now, there was a bridge between two worlds. Soon, people from the blighted world began to walk upon my flesh; to wonder at, to ponder, this phenomenon. Some, recognizing the bridge, gave thanks and in gratitude, quickly made their way to the waiting Edenic world. Most, sadly, were afraid of the consequences of trusting in this new thing, and chose to just wander around a bit, then returned to their miserable existence. Another type of human came to explore my body: the ‘gold diggers” or resource seekers . These brought the same tools they had been using to destroy their planet. They proceeded to cut up my flesh, looking for treasure. Finding nothing of interest to their blighted senses, they too returned to their world to continue in their pointless existence.
In time, when the two worlds were again beginning to orbit apart, all those who were upon my body left. Most opted to remain on their old world, afraid of the future presented to them. They could not believe that this new world was ‘real’.
When I was completely clear of traffic, of human life, I pulled myself free of the old world. My hair tore out of my head and remained in the soil there. I pulled my legs away from the new world, and my feet remained in that soil. I rolled myself into a ball… and died… or so it seemed. I became non-living, in the sense that we know it. My body also vanished in space. Then the voice came back and said: “In time, when this cycle is complete, you will again return to bridge these two worlds, for you are infinite, you are life.”
By choice, and by whatever means given us over time upon time, some of us become world bridgers. Our calling and our choice may never be known by anyone, but as my “new age” friends were fond of mentioning, we are anchors. By our presence and by our thoughts we “anchor” certain energies within worlds and these places of power often remain untapped for millennia. Then we come back and we find these ancient treasures that belong to us, and we learn how to use them and expand them. Sometimes they can give us enough power to rise up into public awareness and create waves of changes. Think Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. – individuals with charisma, with the power of compassion: such doesn’t just happen, nor does it happen overnight. Long, long planning and many lives go into building such awareness. Does it make any difference? It can, for those who observe, listen and act on their own wisdom as the above vision demonstrates.
[from ~burning woman~ by Sha’Tara]
It was sadness,
A sadness so deep
I peered down it’s well:
There was no bottom there.
I stopped to think,
To scratch my head;
To wonder at this feeling
And asked, what is this I feel?
‘Tis but the world
resting its tired head
upon your firm shoulders
For a few moments of respite.
I thought to ask,
Looking for a reason
A particular worthy reason.
A tired world
Cannot be particular:
You were there, convenient,
Simply available – repeat: why not?
I was just there?
No more to it than that?
No meaning other than that?
There is none,
Why should there be?
But if you want more to it
No one stops you from walking,
Carrying the load, making it your own.