The Free Radical

“…part of the package of being a living thinking being is that you get a galaxy-sized object inside you.” – Terrence McKenna (History’s Fractal Mountain – Paranoise)

100 years after ascension, in the palindromic year of 2112, the following conversation took place– telepathically, in 5D, and has been subsequently rendered into a 3D format:

Boy: Was there really seven billion people on Earth at one time, Grampa?

Grampa: Maybe even more.

Boy: What happened to all those people? Why aren’t they here with us?

Grampa: I’m ever hopeful that they’ll be along shortly.

Boy: Grampa, it’s been a hundred years! What are they doing?

Grampa: Still trying to figure out the whole ascension thing, I reckon.

Boy: But ascension is easy!

Grampa: Yup. ‘Bout as easy as falling in love. Doesn’t require much doing or thinking. Just a heartbeat’ll do it.

Boy: So… why aren’t they here yet… if it’s so simple?

Grampa: In and around the year of ascension, 2012, the world was a very… let’s say, complex place. The people lived in their heads. Any thinking, no matter how seemingly rational and utterly meticulous, when it’s disconnected from the heart, leads inevitably deeper and deeper into confusion. Interestingly, such confusion would typically manifest as sheer intellectual arrogance. And you simply can’t teach people who believe that they already know. Today they are still mired in the habits of that “knowing.”

Boy: What do you mean by habits of knowing, Grampa?

Grampa: Perhaps habits of perception would be more accurate… or not. You have to understand– and this might be difficult for you– nearly all of those people, living at that time, saw the universe as something outside of themselves.

Boy: Certainly Grampa, this isn’t difficult, for reality is a projection.

Grampa: No boy, you misunderstand. You were born here, raised with this knowledge. We are portals; we are gatekeepers. As integrated sovereigns, we shape reality as it emerges through us. But a hundred years ago, very very few could grasp this fundamental truth. They saw themselves as actors on a stage built by the hands of unseen others. Reality was singular and seemingly fixed in place; its dynamism and mutability lay firmly in the hands of far-off deities or strictly esoteric, unobservable natural forces. Whatever came into their lives came from without.

Boy: But that’s absurd! Reality comes through me… right here!

Grampa: Hm, yes, through the heart. Indeed. So many tried in earnest to grasp the concept… and failed.

Boy: But it’s not a concept. It’s an experience!

Grampa: And that’s what I’m trying to tell you boy! Everything was a concept. Ideas were valued above experiences. Thinking replaced knowing. Simple authenticity was abandoned in favour of elaborate theorizing.

Boy: But… but… oh, this is so terribly confusing! Didn’t the people at least occasionally fall in love?

Grampa: Oh, indeed they did. Frequently, I’d say.

Boy: And this too was seen as an external thing? How could it be?

Grampa: Falling in love was an aberration, an anomaly. They didn’t know what to think about it, so it was taken for granted… and marginalized.

Boy: What! They ignored love?

Grampa: No, that would be impossible… being the only “thing” in creation that is truly real. No, they just habitually downplayed love’s significance… because it wouldn’t yield to their incessant intellectualizations; it wasn’t that important.

Boy: But they could feel love?

Grampa: Oh indeed, every bit as much as we do. But when they’d fall in love it was often looked upon as a form of temporary insanity. You see, when the head rules, the heart is the enemy.

Boy: Grampa, I’m trying to understand this; truly I am. I’m picturing a child asking his mother “How will I know when I have fallen in love?” And there is naught but one answer which the mother may speak. “You will just know; it is unmistakeable. You will know.” Loving is knowing… and thinking has no bearing. How can love ever become so subservient?

Grampa: The old Earth has long been a prison planet. The original trap was set many thousands of years ago.

Boy: The Archons?

Grampa: You know of them?

Boy: From stories.

Grampa: I still prefer to call them ankle-biters. “Archon” is too regal a title for such ignobility. They are masterful though, in their mimicry and deception. Long ago, through a tragic misunderstanding, they exercised their freewill collectively to sever their connection to Source. They opted out of love’s Creation. As such, they are powerless to create, for they lack the energetic resources, so they imitate and deceive in order to siphon energy from other freewill beings.

Boy: But who would choose to willingly support such parasites?

Grampa: Here I must introduce those old Earth beings known as the intercessors– the priests and politicians foremost among them. The intercessors were very much the human equivalent of the ankle-biters… and very much their servants. Society was structured at that time such that the average citizen would periodically cast a vote for a particular politician who would then, if elected, make all the myriad decisions about public policy for those who had empowered him. In this manner, the citizen was required to make only a single critical decision once every few years, and in the meantime, his political representative would make all of the decisions of import in his stead. This was universally looked upon as an enlightened form of governance known as representative democracy.

Boy: Did they understand nothing of sovereignty?

Grampa: As a concept… assuredly. Experientially… not at all. There were hardly any sovereigns at that time.

Boy: But at least the citizens understood that they had given their power away?

Grampa: No, not at all. Power had become externalized. It was something that existed out in the world somewhere; it did not reside to any significant degree in individuals. Those few who recognized their bequest of power, invariably looked upon it as a trivial thing.

Boy: But Grampa! They had hearts beating in their chests! How could such a situation ever come into being?

Grampa: Here I must speak of the other intercessors, the priests. The tale of how it was actually accomplished is one for another day, but the priests inserted themselves between God and man. The average citizen could only contact Source through the agency of the priesthood.

Boy: But… but… the connection to Source is forever in one’s own heart! How can another get between a man and his own heart?

Grampa: The heart is infinite, and freewill, absolute. It could only be done through invitation… and beguiling deceit.

Boy: Like the old vampire stories where a vampire can only hurt you if you invite him in.

Grampa: Exactly. The whole world invited the intercessors in… and embraced them… adoringly… for millennia. And it is precisely this which you must understand when considering The Shift of a hundred years ago. The layers of deception were generational. Each new generation of children were born into deception, swaddled in fabrications, and were rewarded for their complete indoctrination into the lie. And they would happily pass along the notions and ideas which had distracted their attentions from anything real to their own precious children. And you know how– no wait, you wouldn’t… Nevertheless, lies and deception beget more lies and more deception, lest someone finally begins to see through the illusion. The world seemed so unfathomably complex and confusing, and as more and more struggled to see through the lies, new belief systems were invented, new narratives emerged; everyone had their own take on what was going on in the pageant of ideas run amok.

Boy: So what exactly took place at the time of The Shift?

Grampa: Everything was backwards and upside-down. Confusion reigned. The ankle-biters had grandly deceived humanity once already in the distant past, tricked them into building their own prison. When it was finished and secure, humanity handed the keys to the priests and politicians. The deceivers knew that a time would come when humanity would be offered a divine gift, and they were powerless to prevent it. But what had already worked once was certainly worth another try when the crucial time came. Metaphorically, The Shift is simply God or Source knocking on the internal door of each and every heart, bearing the gift of a new base frequency from which to construct a new and altogether different reality. I can well imagine that when the knock came, so very many would have marched straight for their front doors, and then cursed silently as they opened them to find no one there. Their thoughts had convinced them that they had no ears to hear the din within.

I am still speaking metaphorically of course. Habits of perception and cognition ingrained for a lifetime had so many looking outward, just as the intercessors had hoped. They simply could not conceive of the idea that God would come to them through their own being.

Boy: But that is the only way!

Grampa: ‘S truth. But it just did not occur to them. Disempowered, humanity was ever engaged in the search for suitable allies. They did not believe in their own ability to affect the necessary changes themselves. Gods, angels, ascended masters and every conceivable spirit was sought after in the wide world to build the critical alliances to see ascension successfully through. Even the sciences of the time predominantly turned man’s gaze outward, having long established that nothing of value lay in the inward direction. The search for external answers was thoroughly an unconscious habit.

So at the time of The Shift, the ankle-biters and their minions were ready to seize upon that fundamental deception. Through a systematic flood of “spiritual” narratives they asked the more “spiritually advanced” humans to engage in meditations, prayers and visualizations to assist in building the New Earth. Light grids encircling the planet needed to be constructed– a shiny new prison for an “awakened” humanity. The ankle-biters simply had the humans build a new, fancier, less-restrictive prison for themselves.

Boy: But how did they do it?

Grampa: It was pretty easy, really. The only thing the ankle-biters lacked was the raw, organic, creative energy which only the humans could provide. Given the raw material, they knew exactly what to do with it. The humans were asked, mainly through channelled messages, to connect to the light of the Central Sun through their crown chakras.

Boy: What are chakras?

Grampa: This too is a discussion for another day. But briefly, chakras are false energy systems, set up at the original deception millennia ago, in order to fracture and dilute the Source Light streaming through the heart. So to return… they would connect up first with something external to themselves– the Galactic Centre– somewhere way out there in space, bring then that program– or agenda– into their sacred selves, and freely give their own God/Source Light to it. The “benevolent” galactics would always insist that whatever light energy a single human could provide, they themselves would then magnify a thousandfold or more. The humans deemed it to be a good bargain– though they scarcely had a clue as to what they were building.

Boy: But deception of any kind is not supported energetically by the new base frequency! How could they still be deceived?

Grampa: Much of this occurred prior to the actual moment of ascension. It was still a 3D world where deception and secrecy had dominated unchallenged. Those who took the bait fully expected that they had helped facilitate Earth’s emancipation. When the time to ascend finally arrived, they naturally chose to inhabit the shiny new prison they’d constructed for themselves, thinking it to be a higher dimensional world.

Boy: But surely in time they would begin to realize that something was amiss!

Grampa: That has always been and still is my hope. Every once in a while someone escapes the prison by finding/creating the bridge in their own heart and then reaching for the only true ally humanity has ever known– the Earth herself. At the time of ascension, I was young like you are now, but I was lucky enough to receive the only sound advice I ever needed: “Trust your own heart, boy… and the dirt between your toes.”

Boy: Is there nothing we can do to help them?

Grampa: Certainly there is. In the times when I am periodically away on my adventures, it is to the false prison-earth I go. I counsel and teach… and try to show the way. I reckon you’re near old enough now, boy, to come along if you’d like.

Boy: Yes, I’d like that! Very much!

Grampa: Just be forewarned… it is a very strange place.