by nielskunze on March 31, 2015
When the first intimations of their mythic presence became tangible in my personal reality, early last May, I coined my own term: Bigsquatch. I just wanted to present the evidence as it had presented itself to me, without drawing any undo attention. An internet search of ‘Bigfoot’ or ‘Sasquatch’ wouldn’t hit upon my scattered Reports (Daily Forest Reports). Some possibilities you just want to sit with for awhile… without anyone else trying to bring the whole circus.
I’ve had nearly a year now to ponder and weigh the evidence, and to get comfortable with it. When I first reported it last spring, I almost tried to be unconvincing. The problem now… is that I’m convinced. And so I feel compelled to re-present the best of the evidence in a more convincing manner.
The only viable alternative to the Bigsquatch conclusion, in my opinion, is that I was being punked, hoaxed; someone who knew my regular route through the forest was deliberately planting anomalous evidence for me to find. Well, it’s been nearly a year now, and no one has come forward pointing a finger and laughing at me for falling for it. I don’t have friends who are such patiently sophisticated practical jokers, so the hoax hypothesis grows weaker by the day.
It is the footprint evidence which is the strongest. A very natural argument arises when doubters explain them away as the overlapping footprints of more common forest denizens like bears or mountain lions. Well, we can safely rule out any cats, because cougars have only four toes, and the tracks I found in the mud definitely had five. So that leaves bear.
This is the first of the prints I came across approaching the swamp. My first thought was “Holy crap! That would be the biggest bear I’ve ever seen in this area!” (I’ve encountered well over 400 bears.) It must be noted that what appears as punctures or claw marks in front of the toes above were not actually present a few days earlier in the wet mud when I first found this print. Originally I photographed it with my hand in the foreground for perspective (with wet mud and no visual claw marks– I always check, just to see how long the claws might be) but that photo sucked, so I took this one three days later, when the mud was dry, with my size-11 foot for better perspective.
Here’s the sucky original:
At this point though, honestly, Sasquatch hadn’t crossed my mind.
The next day, we came upon the second print, very close to the first. The second print had definitely not been there the day before. What’s a little more baffling about this next one (and the one after that) is that it’s right in the middle of a very large patch of wet mud. There are no other prints leading to or from it. It’s just a single print on perfect display… with no reasonable explanation as to how it actually got there.
It should be noted that in this photo the ground is a bit harder than it appears; the mud isn’t quite as squishy as it looks.
Let’s move on immediately to the next print which kind of ‘replaced’ the second print the very next day (third day in a row). It appeared in just about the same spot, maybe a few feet away at most. It’s definitely the most complete and spectacular one! Like the previous one, it too was just a singular print in a large patch of mud with no other prints leading to or away from it– and that is really the most compelling thing of all, as I’ll explain.
When I initially reported these huge prints in the mud, the skeptics, and those just reaching for a more rational explanation, insisted that this was obviously a composite track where a bear’s back foot partially overlaps the print left by its front foot, creating one mega-print that looks like it could only come from Bigsquatch. Even though this seems like a very reasonable explanation at first, it poses some real puzzlers too. Like, in this virtual sea of mud, where are the other bear tracks leading to and from this ‘composite’ print in the middle? Remember, this would have to be the largest bear I’ve ever encountered in this area, judging by the size of the prints. Also, if this print from the third day is really a composite bear track, then it is only reasonable to assume that the other two prints from the previous days are merely bear tracks too. Now, let’s think about that for a moment. That would mean that this stunningly huge bear was in this exact same location for three days in a row, leaving only a single print each time. There were absolutely no other bear signs to be found anywhere in the area. In case you don’t know, bears poop a lot! So each time, on three consecutive days, the largest bear I’ve ever encountered, managed to leave just one footprint (none bearing claw marks) in some magical fashion, without leaving any other signs in an area predominantly characterized by endless mud. That’s one very strange bear!
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “How is a giant hairy ape a better explanation?” Personally, intuitively, I have never felt that Bigfoot was strictly just another animal. The indigenous lore surrounding Sasquatch speaks of a mythical, telepathic, multidimensional creature with definite associations with UFOs. I know I just lost a few of you… but that’s where the evidence leads! In fact, a modern search for Bigfoot HAS to include this hyper-dimensional possibility. Particularly, the telepathy and its ability to dematerialize at will is so often reported by contactees that to ignore the possibility is a disservice to any serious research on the matter… in my opinion. To get fully up to speed with this line of inquiry, please refer to the work of Jack Lapseritis. I won’t repeat his voluminous evidence here, but it is all very much in keeping with my own experience.
This initial 3-day experience culminated in the third photograph above which was punctuated upon its discovery by Raven uncharacteristically swooping right above me cawing enthusiastically “See! This is what I was trying to tell you!” Another key part of the Sasquatch lore which really surprised me when I began my internet research was that they employ the services of indigenous birds such as eagle, hawk and raven to be their telepathic eyes in the sky. Well, that fit perfectly with my experience. I always wondered why the birds were consistently keeping tabs on me in the forest; in truth, it was Bigsquatch!
On the fourth day I mounted an expedition. I extended my usual route farther west into the backcountry where I’d built my cabin years before. I figured that the remoteness of the western Purcell Mountains was a perfect place for Bigsquatch to go about his physical tasks undetected and unmolested. Just this lengthy day-hike provided some more intriguing evidence. I only had my GoPro with me, so the photos aren’t quite perfect.
Yeah, that could be just bear poop, but take it from a guy who has seen literally thousands of piles of bear poop in the woods, that one wasn’t typical– in terms of shape and content. And then those long blonde hairs in the second picture were caught in various places in the bark of that tree extending up to about seven feet up its trunk– just like someone very tall and very blonde had paused to scratch their back and legs. It was the dogs who alerted me to this find as they found the scent on and around this tree to be about the most fascinating thing they’d ever discovered. (You can see Sitka in the background.)
Then, a few days later, I conducted a more thorough search of the swamp. I found one more anomalous print in the dried mud. The big print at the bottom seems very much like it is the same foot which made the others pictured above. The smaller print at the top of this picture is actually quite close, less than a foot away. It is very likely that of an average-sized black bear; it’s approximately the width of my hand. The other print at the bottom is quite a bit larger– again, without any discernible claw marks.
That’s pretty much the extent of my personal photographic evidence. I could show you more poop that I’ve been unable to positively identify. It most closely resembled horse shit, but not quite, and there were no horseshoe marks in the hard mud surrounding it. Horses leave prints– almost always!
At this point I’m convinced that I’m dealing with Bigsquatch… and honestly, I really don’t care who believes me and who doesn’t. One thing I’ve found over the years is that skepticism is almost always based in total ignorance. It’s something like this: “I’ve never experienced any such thing myself, therefore I refuse to believe that anyone else could have such an experience. When others describe such strange experiences and encounters, they are all attention-seeking liars!” Fair enough. I always say that everyone should first and foremost believe in their own experience. But I really have never understood what is to be gained by adamantly rejecting the mere possibility. Skeptics tend to live in very small, cramped worlds!
A few days ago, a friend who channels, gave me the name of the Bigsquatch I’m dealing with. The first walk– a couple of days ago– with the name upon my lips, was accompanied by Hawk the second we got out of truck. Hawk led us up the mountain. Then, at the Mesa, two eagles were playing in the air right in front of us. I couldn’t get a picture because they were flying so low and fast above the river valley at about the same altitude I was at– on the Mesa– that they were backdropped by trees, not open sky. From one second to another, they were very difficult to see clearly. Later, when we were down by the river, they circled for a long time just above the northern bank, ducking in and out of view, keeping their eagle eyes on us.
I won’t reveal the name I was given until I receive permission to do so. I can reveal however that I’ve done the numerology on the name already (32/5) and it’s rather impressive. It seems that I’m dealing with a leader among the Sasquatch People and an emissary of light, a teacher of earth-lore. I am SO looking forward to the furtherance of this relationship!
So the bottom line of all this, a year later, is that I am now actively pursuing this relationship. At first I wasn’t sure that I even wanted to be a Bigfoot contactee… and now I’m quite sure that I do. The whole focus of what I’m doing now is a deepening of my relationship with Earth Mother and all her creatures. My reticent friend promises to be an intriguing teacher once we both get over our initial shyness. It’s exciting… and really quite unbelievable. But then, so much of my life has already been so unbelievable that I’m quite convinced that I’m living among the pages of an epic adventure novel– a good place for an author to reside.
by nielskunze on March 29, 2015
I’m standing at a precipice; my toes curl and grab the edge of an ancient hesitation. “Is this really it?” I ask myself again. Patiently, my mind methodically goes over again everything I know for sure…
On the evening of March 27th, the local trees woke up. I walked outside shortly before sunset and I could smell the sap flowing through the indigenous forest, an annual sign that the vernal business of life had officially resumed. Perhaps it was in anticipation of the steady rains to come over the next hours and days, the first real soaking since the frost had left the ground.
As the dogs were still busy splitting hares– those poor stark white beacons in an earthy landscape– I was rapidly coming to the end of my winter forage of leftover rose hips. All those which yet remained were small, dry and shrivelled… but I couldn’t complain; I’d had at least a dozen of them every day over the five long months of winter.
And peering through the blinds of changing times, the sure signs of the new foraging season were beginning to abound.
The wild tarragon is coming along nicely now. It’s flavour is much more like sage than the liquorice-vanilla delicacy of its domestic counterpart. Perhaps this year I’ll harvest a few foot-long stalks to bundle together– dried– as a smudging stick. It grows right on top of the Mesa, so it’s loaded with abundant, pure, clean energy.
The wild onions too are showing significant new growth already. In amongst the brown scrub from last year, they’re fairly easy to spot as the only conspicuous green, reaching out.
All parts of the prairie crocus are poisonous; this is not the species from which saffron is harvested. Nevertheless, this sure harbinger of new growth is a welcome feast for the eyes, if not the gullet.
And then we were greeted by our old friend…
Here, I lightened and blued the sky so that he might appear limned in a spiritual light. It was actually miserable and raining, but Hawk seems most determined to accompany us when the weather is the worst.
In this closeup, you can see his feathers underneath are soaked and dripping. He was standing in the rain for me.
He flew from one power pole to the next, leading us on.
Hawk is the telepathic multidimensional eyes of the Sasquatch People. I’ll let you in on a little secret: yesterday I learned– from a trusted friend who channels– the name of the sasquatch I ‘encountered’ last spring. I’ve been told that if I address him by name, he will answer. Since I’m not overly familiar with sasquatch etiquette… yet, I won’t share his name publicly until I get his expressed permission to do so. Apparently, he’s been keeping an intermittent eye on my Forest adventures for at least fifteen years now.
Here’s a picturebook reminder of what I encountered early last May…
by nielskunze on March 28, 2015
Art is the future of technology.
As we learn to live more through the heart, we want to be moved, to be presented with an opportunity to change, according to how and what we feel. There is a natural inclination to grow; Heart supports growth. Entertainments are– by definition– distractions for the mind. If they are artfully crafted and presented, they may even touch us very deeply. It is the Heart which appreciates this artfulness; the mind will relish cleverness in intricate detail, as the Heart just wants to FEEL the infinite possibilities. And naturally, as a path with a heart, this leads to a future where art is our most valued technology.
That art is transformative is certainly not new. Religious artifacts and architecture in every culture are a testament to this. But these are brand new times! In every way imaginable, we are invited to grow deeper into our Being, to be enthusiastic explorers in this hall of mirrors… to be the embodiments of greater and greater potential with each new discovery, revelation. We need multidimensional tools, and I like the idea of using tools guided and co-crafted by precisely the unique multidimensional energy milieu in which we currently find ourselves.
Angie Schuyler’s trance art keeps us up-to-date with the latest advancements in simple, personal, transformational technology. This strikes me as art that’s meant to be used. Each image should be grasped and manipulated with dexterity and vigor; they should be wrung out to see what more might be squeezed from pulp and pits, even as our eternal thirst seems momentarily quenched. It is the consumer of this art who paradoxically comes to it as the unmoulded clay… or perhaps, the granite block; we are all of differing densities. And then it is the artwork– the tool, this latest technological gizmo– that goes to work on the beholder. And a relationship is formed.
We want artwork that holds our attention. We’re not after just some meaningless fling; we want the longterm relationship… and we’re all wise enough now to know that in order to make any good relationship prosper, we have to be willing to change. The piece of art ain’t gonna change; it’s just a bunch of squiggles on a piece of paper, after all; it might as well be set in stone. But with each new perspective gained during the evolving relationship with this artwork, space is created– space which invites you to claim it with each expanding expression of your own Being.
Meditate… breathe… and then go grab your crayons! This is also artwork that begs to be defaced. Colouring is the consummation of this marriage. The doodle-art progeny created are novelty expressions, akin to your own DNA in their uniqueness. And when you’re finished, it’s not so much that you’ve really altered the original– it’s still there, underneath– but it’s more that you put something of yourself into it, a giving of self-expression… for the opportunity of claiming that expression AS Self, tangibly… demonstrably.
And talk about a distraction for the mind! Let imagination run wild. Each piece of Angie’s channeled art tells countless stories, gives sage advice, offers comfort and encouragement… as nothing more than a visual stimulus reflecting the energies already engulfing the totality of our Being… Now. It’s all there, in each One, fractally complete… you just have to pick out the pertinent whispers from the back-chatter of your mind. Maybe Angie’s art won’t quite move you to tears, but it’ll definitely loosen up the layers, so that when something really does move you, you’re less likely to catastrophically shatter that old crusty shell.
On the path where art is the highest technology, all concept of value is sharply skewed toward love. After all, we want to invest in and employ the things that make us feel good. Eventually, as we grow into the totality of our expression, we will choose to only surround ourselves with loving things… only to discover and embody– fully– what we’ve always and forever BEen.
Don’t you just love this!
All of Angie’s PRmia art drawings can be viewed at her website, Mystical Moment.
Single copies of of Angie’s trance art can be purchased for $.99 each– suitable for colouring– at her Etsy Page for Perceptions and Reflections Art (PRmia).
You may also join me as a patron of Angie’s art by signing up at Support Angie Schuyler, as a monthly contributor.
by nielskunze on March 26, 2015
Spirit expresses itself through Life. Or, in reverse, Life is the expression of Spirit.
When I wish to confirm the validity of a thing, I look for examples in Nature– in living Nature. So what of bliss? I see infinite variety of pleasure and pain, but nowhere can I locate bliss. What earthly life-form resides in bliss? What creature seeks bliss as its most desirous goal?
A soul which has been entrained and indoctrinated into a primarily mental perception of reality– such a soul, alone, sees bliss as a valid and worthy goal. Bliss belongs to the mind… and its astral extensions.
The Heart is the inner portal through which Life and Spirit come into reality. The Heart is the centre of Life. The Heart knows Love, not mere bliss. Love is all-encompassing, the extreme grandeur of All That Is. The Heart contains all that.
Bliss is a single, narrow, static frequency… an appeasement for the mind. It is fragile and timid, easily lost or upset. Bliss is an astral carrot dangled before a mind bedazzled by daunting complexity; bliss is the mental alternative to complexity. Bliss is offered like an eraser to the struggling poet: “Here, set aside all your rumination based in passion, and partake of this divine blanking-out called bliss.” Is that my highest purpose? Really?
No, I declare that my highest purpose is to live– fully. Bliss seeks to escape or sidestep Life. Bliss is an invitation I cannot accept. There is no Life in the astral realms; it’s all inorganic… peopled by souls all lost in endless mentation.
Those who reside in the astral like to refer to their home as the ‘spiritual realms’ in answer to this glaring lack of Life. But mind is not Life; Life is Spirit. There is no Spirit in the astral realms– rather, just a hierarchical embodiment of ideas. It has its place, but never as a final destination.
Life and Spirit are far too big to even attempt to enter into bliss. Bliss is strictly for the non-living– a little vacation, or the ultimate payoff for endless mental masturbation.
The Living counterpart to bliss is a fully-flowered open Heart– which experiences everything that is real with true appreciation and gratitude, an expansiveness which cannot be contained in bliss.
No, Spirit cannot enter bliss– not fully. Living is big and messy, and bliss is an oversimplification Spirit can easily do without.
I AM sorry for your bliss.
by nielskunze on March 24, 2015
(Lavender View by Rhombus from their 2008 album Arkadoomia)
Everyone’s got their own agenda.
In the cacophony of conditioned desires, it can be difficult to see our way clear, through to the horizons of our spirit’s infinite potential. Spirit is Life; Life is Spirit. My Spirit comes to me through the Heart of Earth– the same for you. There is only One Spirit here; there is only One Life here.
Sharing is our Nature. Nature knows no other way. There are no exclusive clubs or elite plans, only handfuls of dirt– touching… our fertile hearts…
In my left hand I held my camera; then, I licked my right thumb and proceeded to smudge the sky and the clouds and the mountain… defended borders melting and merging… This is the Way of it; our words and identities are still too small… Look!
I can just as soon tell you what to see as I can tell you what to dream. Your eyes, both inner and outer, are yours alone, but the story which knits your brow, ploughs furrows in your mind, belongs to all the characters who come to the harvest, who come to the feast. Has there been enough devouring yet?
They tell us there’s hell on Earth, or worse, that it’s deep inside Her Heart. And heaven is way beyond untouchable horizons… There are no bodies in heaven; Life is not permitted!
She’s waited so patiently, lovingly, for you to realize (real eyes) how good you’ve already got it here… but the brainwash tells you otherwise (with other-eyes) that something lies awake in your dream, restless, struggling toward a future which can only lie smothered in time’s suffocating narrow-mindedness.
The mathematics of poetry can’t exaggerate enough the true geometrics of time’s endless expanse– not as a tight tangle of yarn, but as stories which bloom, fragrant… sublime.
There’s a part of you, the heretofore most familiar, that hides behind sunglasses nodding… but not having a clue what I’ve written here. And then there’s the part of you that breathes– equal in; equal out. Your breath is the biological pendulum, Spirit’s gold pocket watch… your greater context… And you and I are the containers of time, but so many wish to fly away, while I only want to draw closer…
…with my breath – taking pictures…
by nielskunze on March 21, 2015
“Is there a pinkish hue?” asked George.
“A pinkish hue?” asked Jerry. “Sure… I think there is.”
Do you remember when clouds were just white… or 56 shades of grey? And the whole sky was a uniform shade of blue?
Yeah… well, it’s not like that anymore. Lately I’ve noticed that the clouds especially have been exhibiting colours in the middle of the day which used to be strictly reserved for sunrise or sunset. The colours are ranging from yellowy-orange to purplish-pink… and no, it’s not due to pollution, not out here.
And then yesterday I noticed that the sky in the west was a completely different colour from the sky in the north. West was cobalt blue, while the north was more of a turquoise as seen above. Is this the new normal?
The colours are very subtle… and seem to change by the hour.
And yes, you are correct in assuming that these colour effects can be added during photo processing, but you’ll just have to trust me that I’m only highlighting what I actually see.
Indeed, a new reality really does seem to be breaking through! And just in time… or… er, just out of time, as the case may be.
Down at the river, we were honked at by these two, the official harbingers of spring (in Robin’s stead). Goose is also a particularly common totem among writers– you know, the whole Mother Goose thing and writing quills and such. Goose is particularly interested in calling out humans on the epic quest, the mythic adventure. Well, I’m all about that!
The dogs were transfixed and fascinated… and I have to admit that they do look rather tasty (the geese, not the dogs).
And speaking of tasty…
Sitka was the lucky one to come across this fresh kill first. She had the bunny’s leg devoured in about a minute and a half.
In the meantime, Toby scooted up ahead, perhaps catching something more on the breeze…
…and was rewarded with these other remains. You don’t see that every day!
When I got there, she was desperately trying to swallow it whole before the big bad uncle (me) could take it away. I just insisted on snapping a pic and then I let her eat it. That skull was super crunchy!
Rabbit has come to represent this brand new life we’re now embarking upon… but this is a reminder that the world is still a dangerous place and that there are those who will stop at nothing to try and reverse this breakthrough.
Let’s not get hung up too much on all that which isn’t working, and focus instead on that which is.
by nielskunze on March 20, 2015
(TOURS = Team Of United Renegade Sovereigns)
(Okay, you got me. That title is a play on words of an old album by The Moody Blues called A Question of Balance.)
It’s equinox time… and so the subject of balance naturally comes up. The thing about balance, though, is that it is always the goal– and the means– on the spiritual path. Seeking balance is never the wrong thing to do.
Even though right now the world appears to be way off kilter, totally unbalanced, what’s happening internally with individuals and what’s happening within the collective consciousness of humanity is that it’s all coming now into exquisite balance. The place where the teeter-totters of reality’s balance play themselves out is the internal realms of the human being. By seeking and bringing ourselves into balance– our thoughts, feelings, perspectives and deeds– the world around us naturally falls into balance as well. It is achieved through the individual recognition that choosing to experience at the extremes is really only good for creating drama. The neutral perspective, the balanced view, is the path of transcendence. Some have referred to this as a triangulation of consciousness– Christ consciousness– as the mind abandons its exclusively linear processing which is bound to choosing in an either/or fashion, and instead elevates beyond the realm of relativity and strict causality to find its proper place as an aspect of greater Being– as opposed to thinking and doing.
Allow me to further explain with a general example. Most people possessing an above average awareness have had the experience of regarding an incident in their own lives as initially being a very bad one, only to realize later that it was necessary, even essential, to a much more positive experience of the future. If we view the segment of time during which the experience transforms from something utterly distasteful into something desirous and essential as a whole, it’s easy to see that our experience is never inherently polarized (either good or bad), but that it is rather both. Our experience is actually always balanced; it is just our linear processing of our experience in linear time which sends the pendulum a-swinging. The trick– in these transformative times– is to refrain from identifying with the linear process, and trusting the inherent balance of every experience our souls provide for us. You can always ride the roller-coaster if you really want to, but please don’t blame anyone else if it makes you puke!
People are really starting to understand this stuff. The idea that the battlefield– the place of transformation– is within, and is nowhere to be found in the external world abstraction, has finally been truly taken to heart. Our progress has been greatly accelerated as a result!
Updated March 23, 2015
Q: What is the difference between enlightenment and ascension?
A: In a nutshell, enlightenment is a personal ‘experience’ of the individual, whereas ascension refers to the enlightenment of a critical mass of an entire planetary population at roughly the same time. So, in regards to the individual, enlightenment and ascension can be regarded as pretty much the same thing; but in terms of the affect of ascension on our overall humanity, there are very real, different and far-reaching consequences which do not really apply to the individual experience of enlightenment.
When a planetary ascension occurs, not only are masses of individuals fundamentally transformed, but the overall effect is one of the total transformation of reality itself. The ascended planetary population experiences a new reality whose qualities are decidedly different from the experience before ascension.
Q: You used to say “Bring truth to light,” but now you are saying that there’s no such thing as ‘the truth.’ Isn’t this a contradiction?
A: I’ll admit that I stumbled over this one momentarily myself. I saw the apparent contradiction… and then quickly saw through it. The intent behind the phrase “Bring truth to light” was one of wishing to uncover and expose deliberate deceptions. Perhaps I should rephrase it as “Bring all lies into the light of truth.”
There are many so-called facts which circulate through the consciousness of our humanity which were deliberately seeded as misleading falsehoods. Those with whom such facts originated used their intent to create lies for the purposes of manipulating humanity… and subsequently for manipulating reality itself. It is this body of falsehoods– all those untruths that can be historically traced back (at least in theory) to individuals claiming to dispense the truth when in fact they were knowingly promulgating lies– which need to come to light at this time. It is the deception which needs to be uncovered– publicly, as opposed to the weighing of one relative truth against another– which rests upon individual momentary choice. And this segues nicely into the next closely related question…
Q: If there’s no such thing as ‘truth,’ in what manner does falsehood exist?
A: This is a good metaphysical query. The relative plane of existence– where truth is individually defined and experienced– can be equally thought of as the plane of falsehood. There is nothing which can be held up within the relative plane which can serve as a universal truth acceptable to all within their own experience. This is just a fancy way of saying that everything is true and everything is equally false; it all just depends upon the perspective of each individual approaching such ‘facts.’ The relative self (ego) is the ultimate determiner.
Now, there’s something more I need to point out as the question has been posed. I never really said that there’s no such thing as truth; rather, I said that there’s no such thing as THE truth. What I mean to say by this is that certainly truth exists, but it cannot ever be reduced to a trite linear depiction, or simply, as a statement of fact. The whole truth– the Oneness of the UNIverse– is far too vast for that. (The preceding sentence is about as close as we can get to the Absolute Truth on the relative plane.) The truth of Oneness is One of Being. There, that’s about as absolute as I can get, but you’ll find that the statement may be viewed as being nearly bereft of any meaning or equally as being so pregnant with meaning that it needs to be accompanied by endless commentary. Again, it all comes down to what each individual brings to such a statement as to how each may view it.
The Truth can only be lived, but never spoken. Historically, perhaps it was the Taoists who understood this best. (See the Tao Te Ching, and read it about a hundred times in twelve different translations to really get what I mean.)
Q: In the Law of One series, service-to-self and service-to-others is just another dualistic reality filter, no?
A: Yes, I would agree. Although the Ra material (Law of One) contains much useful information, I have always had reservations overall about what is depicted there. The term of ‘harvest’ is used throughout as well– a term which most humans find rather distasteful, myself included.
The whole service-to-self versus service-to-others dichotomy frames the issue of self-love and other-directed love in a polarized light. Love cannot be reduced to a single polarity; love’s full expression includes and transcends all polarities. And like with anything, it’s a matter of striking a balance, not choosing one over the other. Personally, I have to admit that I don’t particularly strive to be a paragon of service-to-others. Instead, my behaviour ping-pongs between actively expressing love for myself and actively expressing love to others. In order to effectively serve others, I first have to take care of myself; otherwise my efforts will be ineffectual. So whenever we are led to choose one polarity over another– no matter how right it seems– evolution can be best served by seeking balance instead.
The external light creation– the world of our outer-directed experience– is dualistic in nature. Light, as a wave, is dualistic in nature– alternating between positive and negative expression. The light creation, and especially the astral realms, require the ‘friction’ of dualistic perception in order to produce harvestable energy. The light creation– in its very purpose– is cut off from Source; it is an experiment in separation. It can only recycle light energy, or alternatively, harvest emotional energy from Source-connected individuals (i.e. Earth humans).
(And now a couple of more very recent questions…)
Q: Are you absolutely sure that you can’t find anything wrong with Matt Kahn’s teachings?
A: Okay, you got me. Originally, I had regarded Matt as simply another enlightened teacher along the lines of say, Osho. His teachings are meant to be insights that are helpful in bringing individuals to enlightenment; that is the only agenda. I had based my original opinion of Matt upon a handful of his most recent videos. After receiving the above question however, I went back into the older videos to see what might be lurking there.
Specifically, I watched all of the videos in the series called The Pleiadian Prophecy. And yes, this sounds very much like an astral agenda. Matt describes the Earth reality as holographic, an Angel Academy set up by and for our Pleiadian ancestors. Although he doesn’t outright say it, the implication is clear: our first allegiance is to the Pleiades, and Earth comes second.
So there you have it. With this I disagree. Although I have myself identified with the Pleiadian mythos in the past, I have always been steadfast in my primary allegiance to this planetary body, the Earth Mother. Everything I am in physicality, everything I can own or possess, everything that I can do here, everything which I outwardly perceive, everything that I can think about– it is all given to me by Mother Earth. She MUST be my primary ally; all other off-world landlords and agendas I must regard as secondary.
I still believe that Matt Kahn is sincere in his desire to bring individuals to personal enlightenment, and I believe that his teachings are valuable in this regard, but when it comes to the ascension narrative he is providing, I certainly have my reservations.
Everyone in this movement who is outspoken is selling a particular narrative, myself included. We don’t have to buy into any one story at this point. We are still best off drawing from multiple perspectives, and need not eliminate possibilities prematurely. My advice, as always, is still to cultivate the most intimate relationship possible with the organic planet– through a full body awareness (not through the mind alone)– in order to return this realm to a state of balance. Once relative balance is achieved, we can more clearly see where it would be prudent for humanity to move next within our collective experience.
We will redefine our relationship to the astral realms and the light creation as a whole, but until we are in a position to do so, we should allow as many possibilities into the field of our experience as we can. I still regard Matt Kahn as a valuable and insightful teacher.
Q: Lately, you’ve been rather forthcoming with the sources you draw upon. Can you specifically reveal the sources which have formed the basis for your current perspective.
A: Okay, it may be useful to do so.
Twenty years ago, my main influences were the Seth books as channelled by Jane Roberts during the seventies and into the eighties, as well as all of the books penned by Carlos Castaneda. That’s about twenty books or so which formed the basis of my ‘advanced’ understanding of the collective consciousness, the individual, and how reality expresses itself. This was all layered on top of my personal forays into Vedanta, Buddhism, and Taoism– the religions that resonated most strongly for me at that time. It was a matter of seeing a thread of commonality which ran through all of the above perspectives.
The teachings from the Pleiades as channelled by Barbara Marciniak were also highly influential, and I should point out that these particular Pleiadian teachings were always very Earth-centric. It was the P’s who first introduced me to the concept of shadow governments and dark agendas playing out here on Earth. But they also were sure to oft repeat the phrase “As above, so below.” Shadow governments and dark agendas appear to be more universal in nature than many astral entities are willing to admit (or perhaps it’s just beyond their actual knowledge). There are many many entities experiencing this universe in relative unawareness.
Upon my twenty-year-old foundation, my perspective is obviously ever-evolving still. My primary source of fresh information currently, and for about the last two years, is Andrew Bartzis, the Galactic Historian. I have yet to encounter any disagreement with him. But I do need to point out that newcomers to Andrew’s information may very well find much of it to be overwhelming. If you decide to check out some of his incredibly voluminous material, try to refrain from making any snap judgments. Put together as many pieces of the puzzle as you can and then see if it doesn’t begin to make a whole lot more sense.
Right now I am also eager to learn from the work Michelle Walling is currently engaged in which comes primarily from Lily Earthling and Goz. These are the two individuals promoting the narrative of the organic Earth-created timeline which supplants and ultimately collapses the extraneous astral timelines. This information is resonating with a large segment of the lightworker community, myself included.
I strongly suspect that most or all TOURS members are truly earthlings.
by nielskunze on March 20, 2015
This strange short story from the December 2013 Newsletter has suddenly come to the fore. There are certain starseeds and channellers who are currently suggesting that a disconnection from our personal identities is in the offing for humanity at this time. We are being forcibly disconnected from the old familiar grid of our ‘knowing’ and will subsequently be connected to a new– or perhaps truly ancient– grid with soul and purpose.
I’ve decided to recirculate this story in preparation for what could be a very disorienting time. I’ve included the author narration with musical accompaniment for your convenience and enjoyment.
(Author narration; background music: The Romantic Warrior by Return to Forever / Transitory Highs by EJ Gold)
Edwin’s Note: Niels has suggested that we begin with the end; I concur. But before we dive right in I would point out that any and all of my interjections and elaborations spring from my own personal understanding of the Muse. My interpretations are by no means absolute. Perhaps Niels alone knows the this-and-that of everything Mused, but he does not dogmatically impose them on me. Remember I am but an all-too-fallible guide. Now having said that, I will admit that I don’t really know whether the following story takes place in our own Earth reality, a parallel or alternative Earth reality, within the inner continuum of Mi-Fu, or somewhere else entirely. We may just find out in due time. And so let us begin with…
The End Game
Memory… wherein does it reside? The fruitless search for the elusive engram– that hypothetical base unit of memory– has yielded hardly more than a deepening of the mystery for the location of specific recallable events. Where are they stored? Hint: not in brains.
Perhaps it is almost obvious that any physical occurrence is indelibly written or “stored” within the context of the occurrence itself. That is to say that whatever happens alters the very structure of physical reality and therefore is “stored” as the very changes comprising such an ever-dynamic reality. Everything which happens changes the structure of reality moment to moment… and for as long as the universe endures, not a single occurrence is lost or forgotten in the long chain of causality.
Memories exist outside of ourselves… at this point of perception.
This point of perception, our current moment in time, is inside-out. We see our memories as belonging solely to us– unquestionably. We regard them as internal affairs– strictly. And more than anything else, memories are what we use most to arrive at our own self-identities. It is for this reason that the loss of memory, particularly during our declining years, frightens us so. We seem to forget who we are… as though such sacred self-knowledge could ever be eroded by our own human frailties.
Recall that this point of perception is inside-out… and perhaps backwards as well.
So let us jump now to an undisclosed moment in time when the Earth’s magnetic field suddenly plummeted to zero. Why should such a happenstance effect memory? The explanation is beyond the scope of our purposes here, so let us just accept that it does. The effect, in a nutshell, is that of total personal memory erasure. It is not, in fact, an actual erasure, but rather a disconnection between the memories and the identities attempting to adhere to them. To those affected, however, it would seem like a complete personal memory deletion… like wiping the hard-drive of a computer… except that we humans are deeply programmed on so many levels.
Such a moment occurred. The duration of its occurrence is irrelevant since once the disconnection was made, there was no subsequent automatic restoration to “normal” memory retrieval. The disconnection endured in an awkward moment of truth.
Stacey had just finished loading the groceries into her car. It was grocery shopping day, and the main task was nearly done. All that remained now was getting them home and put away. Just as she lifted the key to the ignition, the awkward moment of truth intervened. Stacey forgot herself– completely.
All memory instantly dropped away. She knew not who she was or where she lived. She had no recollection even of how she lived. The key in her hand was as meaningless to her as the metal box of her car housing her temporarily in this moment of truth… with the groceries– these strange alien companions.
A moment of what-the-fuck panic seemed most reasonable, and Stacey had always been most reasonable. She panicked with a determined dignity and decorum welling up from an untouchable place within. She searched about peering through the windows of her car, trying to take stock of the total situation.
She was in a place of many domiciles, tightly packed variations of the metal box she sat within. The vast majority of them appeared to be empty, but here and there she could make out the panicked faces of her neighbors. The ability to read body language and emotional expression was something wholly beyond any reliance on conscious memory. Perhaps others were experiencing the very same… unknown… she was experiencing. She would have liked to go and speak with them. For the rudiments of language too required no conscious memory, no self-identity. But for the time being, Stacey was unable to remember how to open the car door.
* * *
Thomas had always been lucky. When the awkward moment of truth came upon him, he had been walking his dog in the park. The moment dropped like a waterfall from the sky, washing all self-recollection from his very bones to seep instantly into the parched Earth beneath his feet. Tom’s identity was buried instantly in muddied inaccessible unmarked graves. He stood as though naked, frozen to the spot, the loop of a dog leash around his wrist.
The dog barked and looked up at him questioningly. Tom wondered whether he was meant to understand the creature’s utterance. After all, they were tied together, obviously partners of some sort. He reached his free hand down to the dog’s head and gently laid it between his ears. The dog sat down contentedly, wagging its tail above the short grass of the park’s lawn, and looked up to his master who scratched now behind his ears. Allies… even friends, for sure, reasoned Tom. He was thankful for the companionship in such a bewildering and awkward moment.
The park had been relatively deserted. Only a handful of children had been playing on the swings when confusion had dropped from the sky. Tom looked to the children now, hearing their whimpering in the distance. Somehow Tom knew instantly that this predicament was not his alone; they all shared its awkwardness, its bewilderment. He could read it on their faces; it was written in their stiff postures. Tom’s first inkling was to render help. He and the dog went to where the children cried.
* * *
Karen freaked right the fuck out! She was home alone when the power cord to her brain got suddenly pulled. Virtual electricity and any semblance of sanity shot straight out through her ears in a flash of consuming ignorance. Not only did Karen not know who she was; she couldn’t even discern what she was… beyond this suddenly raving maniac, blubbering from room to room in her spacious house, desperately looking for someone who might yet hold the reins of her vanished composure. She wet herself… incidentally in the bathroom, but Karen was too far gone already to make any rational guesses as to what a toilet might be for.
After her initial frenzied romp through the house, searching in vain for the moorings of even the most ephemeral sanity, Karen eventually found the front door. She opened it and stepped out to peer down the streets of her neighborhood still looking for bearings of any sort. What she found instead, much to her horror, was that apparently a few of her neighbors were having an even more difficult time than she was as evidenced by the few crazies screaming and dashing about in a most haphazard way.
Karen ran back into the house and promptly shut the door firmly behind her. And then, most curiously, Karen’s hand– apparently on auto-pilot or infused with ample muscle memory– shot the deadbolt to the locked position. And then she collapsed in a sobbing soggy heap right there against the front door… safely locked inside… of her own misery.
* * *
It can now be told that there were those on and around Earth at that fateful awkward moment who knew the moment was coming. They knew precisely what was to occur. And in such knowing, they knew how to prepare themselves for the eventuality. Furthermore, a significant portion of them knew precisely how to profit from just such a moment.
* * *
Thomas sat in the grass amongst the children. He had no clue as to whether he had ever been a father or not, but the situation naturally drew fatherliness from him regardless. They were all in the very same boat, but the children nevertheless looked to him for guidance and leadership. He knew nothing… and yet he provided what they needed. The dog too followed his lead in providing the simple comfort of friendship based on nothing more than proximity and shared circumstance.
They were calm, talking together, mostly reconfirming to each other that they each were indeed bereft of any personal recollections of culture and identity. They knew nothing of their real biological family ties, but here in the aftermath they were quickly becoming all the family they needed to ride out this storm together. In perfect vulnerability, trust was a familiar treasure to all.
* * *
A man in flowing robes approached the driver side door of Stacey’s car. His face was calm, smiling. He waved to Stacey inside. She instinctively waved back, not knowing what else to do. She smiled unconvincingly. He stopped at the door and reached for the handle. It was locked– something which he immediately communicated to Stacey, though she had no means of understanding what he meant.
“There should be a button or a switch beneath the window that unlocks the door,” he instructed. Stacey promptly located and pressed it. The door clicked and the man tugged at the handle. Fresh air, for which Stacey was quite thankful, streamed inside the open door. The man continued.
“Today is Judgment Day, a time of reckoning for all of humanity. Greetings, I am Jesus Christ.”
* * *
Thomas and the children had followed the man in the flowing robes to Stacey’s car in the grocery store parking lot across the street from the park. There was just something about the way he moved with perfect confidence through the awkward moment which beckoned “Follow me. Follow me.”
They had stood behind but well within earshot when the robed man had introduced himself to Stacey as Jesus Christ. He knew his identity! Thomas envied him that.
“You have your memories,” said Tom, and the man turned in surprise. A shadow of something unidentifiable crossed the robed man’s face before he resumed his calm, confident demeanor.
“Indeed. I know who I am.” He looked upon the children and smiled.
“Has your memory been restored to you, or did you never lose it in the first place?” inquired Tom.
“I have always known who I am. I am the Light and the Way. But the restoration that you seek is well within my purview and power to grant.”
There was something in that answer that just didn’t sit quite right with Tom, even as the children noticeably perked up at the pronouncement, as did Stacey too. What was so special about this Jesus fellow? Why should he be different than all the rest? What special power did he wield?
“You can restore my memory?” asked Stacey excitedly. “For real?”
“Quickly, easily and painlessly,” came the answer in smooth confidence.
“How is it done?” interjected Tom.
“A gentle placement of my fingertip upon your brow, nothing more.”
“Why?” asked Tom suspiciously.
“Why what?” came the quick retort with perhaps a hint of annoyance.
“Why do you alone possess this special power over others?” There was something about this kind of elitism that Tom could not reconcile with a fair and just universe. Certainly he had no specific memory of the universe ever having been just or fair, but deep down inside he simply knew that it was… ultimately.
“I am God,” proclaimed Jesus. Stacey and the children gasped while Tom slipped into a quiet almost amused anger.
“Interesting that that wasn’t your opening line,” mused Tom aloud. “What are you selling?” Terms from a merchant culture just seemed to naturally spring to the fore.
“Eternal everlasting life is free for the asking,” countered the robed man. “As it has ever been.”
“Then why now?” pressed Tom. “Why in this moment of greatest vulnerability should God come among us in such a manner granting memories individually? Why take them away in the first place?”
“So that each could face his deepest fear– his unknown self. Already many have not survived this day. This reckoning has taken a terrible toll. Fear is self-consuming if not for my merciful interventions.”
It still seemed to Thomas that he was being given half-truths at best, but at the current cognitive disadvantage he was unable to muster any further argument. Then one of the youngest of the children stepped forward to stand before the robed man.
“Mr. Jesus sir, I’d like to remember who I am. Please.”
The child was lightly touched upon the brow with that exclusive aristocratic finger, and immediately she fell to her knees. Her chin fell to her chest and she began to sob. “I want my mommy. I want my mommy…”
The robed man scooped her up and spoke to the rest. “Walk with me as we find this little one’s parents.”
Stacey abandoned her car and newly purchased groceries to become one of this enigmatic man’s entourage. She followed alongside Tom. Observing with keen awareness they walked up a residential street lined with fancy houses.
“Does the little girl seem better off for knowing?” whispered Tom to Stacey. The girl still sobbed into the shoulder of “God.”
“She’s just frightened,” Stacey whispered back.
“We all are,” insisted Tom, “but now she seems almost inconsolable. There’s something going on here that just ain’t right.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I don’t know. How could I possibly know? I don’t know a goddam thing… and yet I know. You know?” Stacey nodded almost imperceptibly.
The little troupe was suddenly outside Karen’s front door. Karen was still a wet and blubbering heap propped against its inside. Jesus knocked and set the little girl down on the stoop. Shrieks of terror answered from inside.
“Do not fear! I have come to save. Please open the door.” The face of bat-shit crazy stabbed through the curtains of the bay window beside the front door. Moments later the deadbolt clicked and the door opened a crack. Karen was incapable of coherent speech. “I return your daughter to you,” said Jesus through the crack.
The door opened wider and the little girl saw her mother. She threw herself upon Karen screaming “Mommy! Mommy!” while Karen scrambled backward muttering “What the fuck! What the fuck!”
There was not a trace of recognition in Karen’s eyes. The robed man stepped up swiftly and made his solemn offer. “I can restore your memories if you’ll permit me.” Karen looked at him ever more dumbfounded, trying to pry the little girl from her waist. The little monster was unrelenting… and finally she nodded to Jesus. And the finger of “God” restored her to her former self with but a touch on the brow.
“Megs! Oh my god, Megs! It’s you!” Karen knelt down for a proper hug, and they both began to cry and blubber and collapsed in a heap. After a time Karen began to mutter quietly again “What the fuck… what the fuck…”
To Tom and Stacey it all seemed rather inappropriate and somewhat ugly.
Eventually, Meagan released her mother to turn to the others outside on the stoop. “C’mon Aaron,” she said. Apparently the oldest boy was her brother. He looked upon the scene in the house with a modicum of disdain.
“Who me?” he said. His sister nodded. The god-man made his offer, and Aaron shook his head, no. “Um… I’d rather not just now,” he said. The disheveled picture of his dysfunctional family seemed somewhat unappealing at the moment. He could clearly see that those who were restored to their former selves were not in any discernible way better off than the others… and perhaps they were worse off. “I need some time to think things through.”
Karen was still incapable of approaching anything resembling reason, and so could not offer her son the correct words of reassurance.
Jesus was perturbed. Clearly this whole escapade had not unfolded according to his designs. He knew not what else to do but make his same offer again. “Anyone else? Who’s next?”
There were no takers. Stacey and Tom and the three remaining children walked down the front steps to take their leave of an insanity none of them could define. The man in the flowing robes looked mildly defeated. He stayed to presumably minister to the broken family he’d helped to restore… or perhaps he stayed for purposes wholly unknown.
The group of six– Thomas, Stacey, the three children and the dog– walked together back to Stacey’s car and its cache of groceries. As they arrived, Tom proclaimed “I am Thomas. I remember myself… from before I ever was born.”
In the days to follow they each discovered that the identities they had long carried with them throughout this lifetime– wedded to their own shoddy memories– were dilapidated ones, distractions to the truth. It had long been talked about on Earth throughout history that there was a veil of forgetting pulled across the human mind, so that human beings never really knew who or what they were. Paradoxically, that veil of forgetting was always comprised of ego’s selective memory. The reset button was that awkward moment when everything familiar periodically falls away… so that all that is real and true and enduring might resurface in those who have prepared the Way.
by nielskunze on March 19, 2015
This is a celebration of the upload limit on my blog being raised from 7MB to 64MB. Now I can do hour-long audios!
So I’ve put together 3 hours of mixed progressive rock. I do this mainly for myself; this is how I like to listen to music. Ideally, the three hour-long tracks should also be mixed seamlessly together, so as to perceive them as one uninterrupted whole.
I know that prog isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but for those who ‘get it,’ they’re in for a real treat. The focus for this compilation/composition was to highlight complex, ever-changing arrangements, which for the uninitiated may sound scattered or schizophrenic; I look at at it however more like an epic poem, highly structured and pointing to infinity. The compositional skill and the musicianship are often astounding throughout. Allow me to reiterate this little reminder: prog generally doesn’t work very well as background music. If you’re trying to concentrate on something else while listening, the music will likely just be annoying and distracting. Some music deserves our full attention; see if this grabs yours.
0:00 The Gourishankar: Considering the current geopolitical climate, I thought I’d start off with a Russian band. Maybe this can help send some love Russia’s way. The song is the opener on their 2007 album 2nd Hands, and is called Moon7.
10:09 Steve Wilson: Luminol from his 2013 album The Raven That Refused To Sing. If you’re not yet familiar with Mr. Wilson, the alpha male from Porcupine Tree, then perhaps this might inspire you to check out his extensive back-catalogue of incredible work.
22:16 Wobbler: Now we shift to Norway. These lads are featured three times in this first hour, all songs from their 2011 album Rites at Dawn. This first one is called In Orbit. The sound they seem to be going for is mid-seventies classic prog… and that’s why I mixed them with this next band.
34:45 Starcastle: Elliptical Seasons from their 1976 self-titled debut album. The main criticism these guys usually face is that they sound too much like Yes. That’s a bad thing? Perhaps they did copy the instrumentation of Yes a little too precisely… but they’re certainly not Yes… and therefore, they should be appreciated for who they are, and not criticized for who they’re not.
39:10 Wobbler: The River is the second song from the Norwegian prog masters.
48:55 Starcastle: Lady of the Lake (excerpt). This is the opening track from their debut album, and I only used the first six and a half minutes. I do that– little edits here and there.
55:25 Wobbler: The third song from Wobbler is A Faerie’s Play.
0:00 Beardfish: This second hour is bookended by the Swedish fiends Beardfish. From Norway to Sweden… I know Frank Zappa was very popular in the nordic countries; perhaps that explains the modern blossoming of prog there…?? This first song is called Factory, and is only an old rough copy of a song the band never fully produced. It’s also in this second hour where some questionable lyrics might crop up. Don’t worry, the one thing prog doesn’t allow is gobs of cheesiness.
8:26 The Gourishankar: The Russians are singularly distributed throughout each of the three hours; this is their second instalment, an excerpt from the final song on their most excellent album. The song’s called Marvellous Choice… and it is.
16:23 Mars Hollow: Walk On Alone is the opening track from their 2011 album World in Front of Me. Their previous album was pretty good too.
28:51 Echolyn: I can’t say enough good things about this band! This is them at their proggy best from their 2012 album… apparently just titled Echolyn. These guys have an extensive back-catalogue too… in case you like what you hear. (This is one of my very favouritest bands!) This song is called Island.
45:07 Beardfish: Here they are again with a fully produced epic from their most recent album (2015) +4626- Comfortzone. The song is called If We Must Be Apart. Beardfish are very good at telling stories with their songs, artfully and intelligently.
0:00 Izz: Here’s another band with whom I can find no flaw, also with a hefty back-catalogue… and about to release another studio album in a few days. This Reality is a song from their 2012 album Crush of Night. Everything they do is classy.
13:30 The Gourishankar: This is the third instalment from the Russians, an instrumental song called Syx.
24:24 Starcastle: Okay, I had one of these leftover and I figured it would segue into the next one fairly well. This song, To The Fire Wind, is from 1976; the next one goes back to 1974, a classic.
29:38 Utopia: Originally the full name was always Todd Rundgren’s Utopia, since Todd Rundgren had some coin in the music scene of the time. This debut Utopia album from ’74 was really the truest prog Rundgren did, and I think it’s a damn-straight prog classic– called The Ikon.
by nielskunze on March 18, 2015
This week’s topic was Spirit/Animal Totems.
That’s kind of my primary path! (Probably because I find it easier to get along with most animals than with most humans.)
It’ll be two years in June when I began writing the Daily Forest Report. So far, I’ve written 317 issues of the Forest Report… so not quite daily; more like every-other-daily.
It was the Vedic teachers who first told me that all is consciousness… and I believed them.
It was Don Juan who first told me through his scribe that everything in my surroundings will continually advise me on the viability of my intent… and I believed him.
I first identified with our Native Americans when I read Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee… and I couldn’t believe it! (We did what??)
It was Ted Andrews in his classic text Animal Speak who first provided my framework for working with animal totems and spirit guides… and I couldn’t believe how awesome it was!
Nature is intelligent– all of it, all of the time.
Despite what some might have us believe, Nature has achieved everything through communication and co-operation… I believe in that.
As I began writing the Daily Forest Report, I began to think of myself as a forest intuitive, and suddenly– quite abruptly– I ceased being a visitor and a tourist in the forest, even though I had always spent enormous amounts of time in these mountainous woodlands; now, I was finally a participant in the actual Forest Life.
As I was prepared to receive, the Forest engaged with me… with intriguing deliberateness.
The Forest waits for the ear to ask, not the mouth; Nature cannot answer inappropriate questions. The ear first learns the language, while the mouth insists upon its own gibberish as law.
Real communication is always learning.
I can only bring aspects of Forest teachings through this civilized vernacular– these words, my Reports. I have had startling and memorable encounters beginning with my initiation by Wasp, and ranging from extremely close interactions with Cougar, Moose, Deer and many others, to the remote and intriguing possibilities suggested by a single giant footprint left in a field of mud, strongly hinting at Sasquatch.
The Daily Forest Reports have their own category on my blog, so the archive is easily accessible.
I try to keep them short, to about 350 words each. And each one is always couched in the greater context of the days coming before… aspects of the Forest narrative being linearized.
I do carry my contemplations into the tangled woods with me, often. The Forest will affirm or deny the veracity of my musings, often ‘correcting’ my thinking with startling insight.
Of course I will include a Forest Report here. And the best one can only be the current one. Here’s what I most recently posted:
The Daily Forest Report March 17, 2015 The Return of Hawk
The first thing I need to report is that we were suddenly thrown right back into full-on winter… which is perfectly typical for March weather in these parts. Nevertheless, it still kind of caught me off guard.
The place where we take these daily walks is about 5km from where I live. On my own deck there was about a half inch of rapidly melting slush when we piled into the truck. My footwear was appropriate for up to an inch of snow… not for the six inches we immediately encountered! Talk about microclimates!
I’ve been telling you recently about the Forest seeming somewhat distant lately. The eagles would circle in the sky conspicuously for us, but at a tremendous distance. The other forest critters too seemed to be keeping their distance. I’ve chalked this up to the need for establishing brand new relationships with the entire natural world, an engrossing and comprehensive task.
The feeling this day, as we walked through the heavily-draped overhanging trees, was one of oppression or even claustrophobia. We couldn’t see a mountain anywhere– despite being in the middle of the mountains; the sky was pressing down on us visibly and figuratively. It was quite a relief when we suddenly spotted Hawk on a power-pole.
He let me snap a couple of pics before flying off into the east toward the Rockies. (I’m assuming a male because it is usually the female who is the larger of the two– being the primary guardian and protector of the nest– and this individual didn’t seem overly large.) Here he is at maximum zoom (200x).
As I’ve indicated, the Forest energy has been rather out-of-the-ordinary. The incredible amounts of coyote poop scattered everywhere has sewn an energy of betrayal and deception throughout the landscape. We are being prepared for revelations of deep betrayal and trickery.
Hawk’s presence, therefore, came as a blessed relief. The Guardian and Protector who was with us nearly every day last spring has returned with fierce reassurances. There is a promise of revelation here… and now. Hawk will keep us from flying off into passionate insanity as we all digest new information about the particulars of this earthly reality… suddenly coming to light.
Astrologically, we are completing and tying up loose ends from things initiated way back in 2008. This includes aspects of personal relationships as well as global events.
These are interesting times indeed.
As always, you are invited to join the Mystical Masters Facebook group for varied perspectives on our weekly topics.