Monday, 28 July 2014

Reality is Malleable: Unpredictable Effects of High Strangeness

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Reality is Malleable
Unpredictable Effects of High Strangeness


Every lifetime contains a multiplicity of mysteries. Every being is a universe unto themselves, unique among a multitude of others. Babies are immortal enlightened beings borne into primitive worlds that shape their destinies to particular utilitarian ends. 

Yet even while we tread routine routes through various versions of barbaric semi-civilisation, the moment of wonder is never far away. Everything is possible and anything is probable. Your worldview is an acculturated comfort zone in an unchartable sea, a shared dream demarking the boundaries of wider, wilder realms.

To witness highly strange events that conflict with the orderly fabrications of consensus reality can be an utterly transforming experience for some; others will swiftly forget anything that can’t easily be assimilated into the worldview they’ve been trained to see as fixed and controllable from birth. Mysteries and consciousness possess inbuilt filter systems.

When the unexpected arrives an instinct for self preservation kicks in. This emotionally charged reaction may take many forms, but one of the most common is denial; an attempt to mentally camouflage one’s self, and return to the accustomed fold of the human pack.

Yet some react differently, forever transformed by the exaltation of challenging sights and bizarre happenings. An illustration:


The old Cold War of the last millennium seemed immutably eternal to the brainwashed throngs on both sides of the ‘Iron Curtain’. It was inconceivable that the whole enduring fiasco could simply fold up and finish without ending in a flaming Armageddon that would destroy all or most life on planet Earth. And yet, against all odds, the miraculous happened, leaving everyone in situ to clean up the mess we’d made of history.

It didn’t seem possible in an age of backyard nuclear bunkers on a polarised schizophrenic planet. Right up until the walls and curtains fell on the final act of absurd lunacy – after the widely forgotten Harmonic Convergence of August 1987 (planted exactly half way betwixt the February 1962 alignment that heralded the Dawn of the Age of Aquarius and its birthing on December 21st 2102) – the world could always end tomorrow in a series of blinding flashes.

Alternative communities sprouted and flourished throughout the lands, far from the toxic sumps and likely targets of urban confabulations. Flower child hippies and redneck survivalists vied for choice spots in farflung valleys and hidden hinterlands. Multitudes marched through city streets in peaceable defiance against The Man behind the curtains and his juggernaut death machines. They protested against megamurders that enriched a small venal coterie of militant industrialists- men with megalomania complexes as drearily dire as Stalin’s, or Nixon’s, or the Marquis de Sade’s. Everything you could buy or sell, save your soul and will, was theirs, ripped from mendacious mines and industrial farms – rents in the flesh of Great Mother Nature, whose immortal soul was trussed up with barbed wire fences and sold for illusory pottage.

An imaginary Sword of Damocles was suspended over everyone’s heads, threatening extinction for all – unless the wage serfs knuckled down, put their noses to the grindstone and stopped rocking the titanic boat. The threat of nuclear Armageddon was a death-trip form of hypnotic control for modernised slaves, just as potent as the previous universal religious fantasias of heaven and hell. After a struggle between control freaks and rebellious slaves that had lasted thousands of bloodcurdling years, a climax was surely approaching.

In nineteen hundred and seventy five, at the height of the ultra-profitable threatening nuclear coldness ’twixt East and West, this mellowing her(m)etic hermit was a much younger shaman who lived near the throbbing heart of the Emerald City of Oz, and worked and played in a huge sandstone edifice known as Stanley Palmer’s Culture Palace.

The setting for this alternative institution was a deconsecrated Presbyterian church constructed from large amber hued sandstone blocks that had been excavated from a defaced nearby cliff a century before, which had long been abandoned by its congregation. The hallowed and hollowed gutted interior still featured a monstrous functional pipe organ, a rosewood choir loft that served as a coffee shop, and a matching pulpit with carven balustrades and a wooden canopy, all housed beneath lofty wood beams exposed by a dismantled ceiling. A tall row of arched windows cast ample light on the artistry and craftiness that abounded within its eclectic confines during the bygone hippy heyday.

This young shaman taught film and video production, photography, darkroom techniques and other artistic pursuits to anyone interested who passed through the old church’s colonnaded entryway, and constructed and operated a cinema in a disused chamber at the building’s rear. Other instructors taught printing, silk screening, pottery, drama, tai chi, yoga, music, meditation, painting and a plethora of other subjects to gifted and appreciated youngsters and oldsters alike. All the courses were absolutely free; in those days all tertiary education was free and open to all in the Great Southern Land by decree of its greatest Prime Monster, the White Lamb who would be sacrificed on the altar of foreign dominion before the year was out.

The main building of the Culture Palace was divided into halves by a thirty foot high Masonite wall which helped soundproof the stage that stood before the pulpit, bereft of its altar – an appropriate venue for all manner of performances. Harold Pinter and Shakespeare vied for time and space with rock bands and folk combos, lecturers and yogis. And every Sunday evening for a few brief years, this young shaman hosted the Future Shock Show – operating lights, sound and recording equipment from the pulpit while all manner of performers strutted the stage below.

The entry charge was fixed at a dollar, but anyone without that amount of money (which could still buy a substantial meal of spaghetti Bolognese at a nearby establishment called the Hole in the Wall, a round of cappuccinos in the nearby Little Italy espresso belt, or a huge, real, solid pre-Mac hamburger) could watch the show for the price of a donation, or failing that for nothing at all. Overheads came to just ten dollars a show and all remaining proceeds were split by the performers.

We cadged boxes of outdated paper from nearby printers and published posters and handbills that were stuck and distributed about the nearby inner urban suburbs. The demographic mix was different in those days; most nearby dwellings were occupied by hard-bitten dock workers and the destitute, or those who were definitely down and out. More than five hundred emptied houses in the immediate area were occupied by squatters during the recession that followed the OPEC ‘oil crisis’.

A gifted poet and musician known as Li Po helped set up and operate every Future Shock show, and a small band of helpers handed out invitations to all and sundry each morning and noon at populous markets and the nearby Domain. In those days this historic public park opposite the monolithic fa├žade of the city’s main public art gallery was a popular local version of London’s famous Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. Religious proselytisers rubbed shoulders with anarchists, communists, socialists and fascists, and all competed for the public’s attention with varying degrees of oratorical skill. Every weekend the greensward was filled with speakers and listeners, bordered by stalls and stands of all kinds.

We’d distribute hand printed handbills until none were left, then make our way back afoot to Stanley Palmer’s Culture Palace to prepare the evening show. One sunny Sunday, while Webster and John Sword and a host of other locally famous orators entertained the throng from stepladders and soapboxes, Li Po chanced to hand an invite to an intense young bearded fellow who introduced himself as John Walsh and asked if he could perform that night.

“I’m a trancemedium musician,” the softly spoken, long haired man declared. “I go into trance and play music – but I don’t know how to play.”

“Sure,” I said, bemusedly curious. “There’s still a spot available.” Early that night he arrived with a plethora of instruments and proceeded to arrange them around the edges of the stage. “I don’t know which one the spirits will want to play,” he explained. Trumpet and trombone, tabla and djembe, harmonium and flute, guitar and mandolin graced the margins of the performance space along with sundry other instruments while John prepared himself, entering a trance state in his dressing room in the empty cinema.

The mesmerised hippy emerged onstage in a voluminous kaftan, lifted an electric guitar and immediately began to play heavenly arpeggios and enthralling glissandos. For the next hour he moved from instrument to instrument in a spaced state of grace. Unearthly music rang from stone walls and marble memorial stones, reverberating through the dumbfounded audience who sat stunned at this display of unconscious – or possessed – virtuosity.

Whether in trance or truly channelling the music of gifted spirits, there was no denying the extraordinary result. John Walsh returned to the stage the next Sunday, and the one after that, rapidly befriending the Stanley Palmer’s crew and the musician Li Po in particular. From close and regular observation it soon became apparent that John couldn’t play a note unless he wasn’t present in his body.

He worked with a few trance medium colleagues, some of whom also played instruments while others chanted in tongues, and a few weekends later they all assembled onstage at the Culture Palace. I decided it would be a good idea to record the occasion for posterity on a high fidelity four-track reel to reel recorder.

The audience didn’t know what to expect. Assembled before their expectant, bored or distracted eyes was a humdrum looking bunch of middle aged people dressed in normal street clothes – except for John Walsh, barefoot at centre stage in a white Indian cotton shirt and loose flared trousers. All stood with unfocused eyes staring above the heads of the audience, whose expectant faces were on a level with the floor of the raised stage.

I watched from the pulpit and started the recorder while John picked up a trumpet. Two men who stood behind him began humming a wordless mantra while another sat and stroked a drumskin with elongated fingernails. John raised the trumpet to his lips and produced a single clear note as the hummers started chanting in a language that closely resembled ancient Hebrew.

The music and chant slowly rose in volume and intensity as I adjusted the gain on the tape deck, and slipped a large pair of headphones over my ears to monitor the recording. At first the music resembled the unpredictable jazz fusion of the semifamous freeform local band ‘Free Kata’, before it shifted upscale into uncharted realms of discord and resonance.

After a few minutes of weirdly harmonious cacophony John started bellowing through the trumpet like a singing, screaming pachyderm, as if possessed by the great Hindu god Ganesh. He trumpeted a blast that ascended from mellow depths into dizzying heights, slipping back down the scale after an extending pause at the gates of heaven. A crackling sound filled the headphones and the music started cutting out in a repetitive patterns so I glanced down at the equipment to see what was wrong.

The meter was swinging into the red zone at the end of the dial each time John hit his highest note, and stayed there as long as he held it. I fiddled with knobs to no avail – the sound disappeared from the ’phones every time the frequency rose to a frenzied pitch. Then I noticed what was happening to the quarter-inch magnetic tape – it was rising out of the recording heads each time the sound cut out, and hovering there, free of the mechanism for as long as John Walsh held a high note, before dropping back inside the machine as he lowered the pitch and volume.

I frowned at the tape, certain the equipment must be faulty and ruing the fact that tonight’s performance would go unrecorded. And then I chanced to glance down at the audience. They were all sitting in their pews with identically stunned expressions; mouths agape, immobile and wide eyed, with heads nodding up and down in time with John Walsh’s stentorious pealing. The witnesses all seemed way beyond mere absorption in the performance; they looked like a school of nodding fish in a stark state of shock. So I turned to see what they were staring at and finally saw what was happening onstage.

Each time the tape rose from the recording heads and the sound cut out in the headphones John was raising the trumpet and bellowing his highest, clearest note to the heavens while the chanting swelled to a climax – and as long as he held that single note his feet hovered a few inches above the wooden planks of the sturdy stage floor.

As long as he held that note he levitated in plain view of dozens of people whose eyes were on the same level as his feet. No trick. No hypnosis. No wires or magnets held him aloft – except for the magnetic charge of John’s channelled music while his whitened eyeballs rolled back in their sockets.

We all watched the miracle unfold before our rapt gazes – as dumfounded as any who saw a man walk on water or a woman give birth to an elephant. He kept it up, and up, for several minutes and all of that time none of the spellbound witnesses moved, nor uttered a word.

Part of my mind was berating me for not having bothered to pull one of the Culture Palace’s video cameras out of the storeroom while I watched in awestruck delight, while another fraction assured me that the tape would have acted just like the sound gear’s and failed to record the extraordinary event.

John’s trumpeting notes slowly fell in volume and he settled back onto the boards for the last time. No-one applauded as he and his friends all shuffled from the stage, still lost to this world in their trance states. I watched the audience shake themselves from frozen concentration and followed them out as they silently filed through the partition toward the reassuring mundane world of coffee, tea and biscuits. Li Po’s eyes were flaming coals when I passed him onstage. He left for the dressing room without a word while I followed the audience into the other half of the deconsecrated kirk.

I hovered about, watching and listening to their varied reactions. A quarter left the building immediately, rapidly making for the safety of the sane dingy streets outside. A thirtyish woman sat at a potter’s wheel and echoed my own reaction to a handful of friends, “This changes everything! After this my whole life’s different – nothing can ever be the same again!” Others stood about with gleaming eyes shining amidst enraptured expressions, while others grumbled and shook their heads.

“It’s just a trick!” one man loudly proclaimed as he strode from the hall. “My god!” another cried, and cried into his teacup. “See what?” a young Christian said to his enraptured girlfriend. “I didn’t see anything.”

Many who saw it soon forgot as they re-entered the treadmill of getting and losing, buying and selling, grasping and loosing. Within a few months only a handful of people could actually recall the event they had witnessed one bygone Sunday night. And John Walsh? He never knew what he’d achieved until Li Po informed him backstage in the dressing room after the performance. The miracle worker had been lost to the world, off in a trance state all the while and didn’t remember a thing.
‘Seeing is believing’ to many or most – for some the revelation lasts but a while and for others forever, perchance.


The sturdy ramparts of a handful of materialistic worldviews collapsed like houses of cards overnight. Nothing we’d been taught was true, and everything was suddenly permissible. If just one person can fly, then everyone can – and if one can fly, then all the other ‘psychic powers’ are doubtless equally available to everyone, if we can only find the route within…

Whole populations find it surprisingly easy to ignore the bleeding obvious fact that the emperor wears no clothes. Unimaginable madnesses of the domesticated primate li(f)e are simply ignored, or mistaken for some kind of natural order by those who’ve known nothing else throughout short meagre lives spent in workaday chasms and blinding chiasms.

The world is truly a magical place, a gorgeous wet jewel miraculously preserved amid the frozen fires of eternity; an unfolding phantasmagoria of wonder and miracles – priceless pearls strewn before competing tribes of domesticated primate boors, who trash living paradise all around in a relentless quest for mere fictitious pie in the sky.

Myriad miracles of daily life are particularly evident way out here in the wild growing forest, where the muddy hands and fixated minds of enumerating people have still barely tainted some special places. When the endlessly chattering monkey mind is finally stilled and all eyes are opened, fabulous strangeness begins to appear and multiply with every new day.
Look up, look in, around and about. Even – especially – in the darkest hour, the moment of wonder is never far away…

A True Story

By R. Ayana


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Monday, 21 July 2014

Manifestation Manifesto: Creating the World With Sublime Intent

Manifestation Manifesto
Creating the World With Sublime Intent

If we create reality with our wilful perceptions, how can we make a better Creation?

Keeping up with the mind expanding ideas, inventions and new millennial paradigms of physics and philosophy is a challenging pastime. We’re blessed and cursed to dwell in this amazingly interesting time, approaching a singular moment in humankind’s destiny. Some fresh discoveries and revelations directly involve us all. Perhaps you’re familiar with the idea that mind shapes the substrate of matter – that the manifest world is ultimately formed by mindstuff and thought.

It’s not a new concept. Despite constant dickering over the relevance of the quantum realm to the familiar world of our senses, this notion is now a generally accepted truism of the postmodern age, backed by innumerable studies. Plenty of evidence exists for the reality of psychic abilities in humans, but this far more personally challenging truth has yet to gain quite as much mainstream familiarity and acceptance.

Decades of experimentation delving into the effects of mind over matter have proven the case for psychic abilities in humans (and animals) beyond a shadow of doubt, regardless of the nature of damn lying statistics. Telekinesis has been satisfactorily demonstrated and scrutinised on numerous occasions, as have telepathy and precognition. (See Rupert Sheldrake, Reality is Malleable and the articles @ ).
Many new proto-Illuminists take the low road, believing The Secret is that you can simply get whatever material object or person you want for your personal pleasure whenever you can harness your powers of manifestation. But the real secret is that if you wish for money or material things you’re doomed to ultimate mediocrity and dumbed-down cocooning. The best things in life are free; the Golden Touch was not a blessing for King Midas, but a curse.

In bygone and future eras – when psychic abilities are fully recognised – certain facts are well known. If one exploits any psychic abilities that arise as byproducts of achieving specific levels of focus and awareness, progression to deeper and higher levels is automatically blocked. Paths to higher consciousness are filtered by built-in safeguards. Clear motives and compassionate intent yield more fruit than indomitable will.

The implications associated with the reality of ‘mind over matter’ have long been known and exploited by various religious or other occult groups through the ages. The easiest matter to influence from a distance is living matter, and less focused minds have always been regarded as prey by control freaks of all stripes.

We are all connected; the same consciousness peering through several billion sets of eyes. The manifest world is shaped and maintained by collective consciousness. As Cliff High of the website Half Past Human has asserted, if individual human beings are latently (or actually) gifted with psychic abilities then the collective mass of humankind is likely to prove far more accurate in such fields as precognition and remote viewing.

The Global EGG Network operating out of Princeton has repeatedly demonstrated not only that humans affect random number generators, but that a great tide of similar alterations in the nature of chaos occurs around globally charged events – notably including 9/11 and the assassination of Princess Diana. But the reality and implicate power of the noosphere (nouse sphere or collective consciousness) is a concept that’s still taking root in the global mind, evolving as a microcosm of and template for our progressing evolution.

Groups including Transcendental Meditation have claimed that collective meditation directly and noticeably alters the collective and the manifest world. It’s further claimed that harnessing just the square root of one percent of any population will suffice to create a more harmonious society, as shown by sizeably lowered crime rates during periods of massed focused concentration – see . Experiments begun in the 1980s with group meditation linking the heart chakra to the Sun have shown marked correlations with reduced sunspot activity.

There can be no doubt of the incontrovertible fact that mind – your mind – can and does effect changes in the manifest universe, at the very least. Are you aware of the programs running through your mind? Are your thoughts truly your own? Superstition can be defined as believing in things you don’t understand. What is truth, and how can you truly know the truth, rather than merely have faith in something you’ve been trained to believe? That’s what it takes to be a free being; relentlessly honest self examination and keen observation of everything inside and around you.

If you want to do the right thing it helps to know what the right thing actually is – otherwise you might mistakenly contribute your energy to toxic moneymaking scams like religious institutions or supposedly positive ‘good causes’ like poisonous universal vaccination, illusory cancer and AIDS ‘research’ or other ultra-profitable dead ends, instead of doing something worthwhile. After all, if consciousness creates reality, then the easiest reality to directly affect and alter is one’s own physical body and well being. Your health is in your hands (as is the healing touch, or the nourishing light of Reiki) – and it’s all in the mind. Make it so.

The most worthwhile task of all is the Great Work – enlightenment – and as bodhisattvas all aver, no one being can be fully enlightened unless every one can be enlightened.



Whenever great changes for good or ill have occurred in the human condition they’ve usually been spearheaded by a surprisingly small number of people. Humankind exists at a wide range of ages and abilities, with a vast variety of beliefs, habits, attitudes and differing cultural norms. Any small group pulling and pushing or simply guiding in a single direction will often nudge the rest into action, or at least acquiescence, and propel them onto the desired path.

Changing the world (for better of worse) doesn’t require a conscious effort by everyone; perhaps only as little as the square root of one percent of the world’s population will suffice – say the square root of seventy million, or ‘only’ 8,367 people (rounded up).

Until recently anyone who attempted to link up with likeminded beings faced manifold obstacles – twinned tyrannies of distance and time zones, culture and religion, and class/caste and race – which all served as filters and brakes on communication and cooperation. The forerunners of new paradigms have always comprised a tiny minority. Long before the internet and rapid means of communication, each community boasted farsighted individuals who were viewed by their peers as eccentric, at best.

Spreading ideas and joining with likeminded people was a relatively laborious (and more censored and potentially dangerous) task compared to using the freed instantaneous media we experience now. Networking has never been easier, socially or otherwise. We’re all individuals pursuing various dreams and aspirations. Some light workers illuminate the web with images, while others use music, stories, articles or videos to spread their messages across the unmediated true mass medium of our new conscious collective.

Some still bypass the net and directly affect the web of consciousness with guided visualisation, mass meditation or prayer.

The planet has always been a shared global mind comprised of the dreams and perceptions of an amazing variety of life forms. The web of life has many strands; no-one can be certain which are absolutely essential to the continuation of life. All our ecosystems as well as the very landform itself are maintained by the wilful wishes of an exceptionally diverse range of entities, including the obvious animal denizens of our shared world. We can only save ourselves by maintaining a flourishing diversity of lifeforms.

Humankind is but one of the strands in the web of life yet we currently leverage all others, inhabiting the spotlight-blinded centre stage in this collective theatrical display. We have essential parts to play in collective destiny.

Now that we’ve become a global village the internet is evolving into a prefrontal lobe of Gaia. We’re all neurons in the new world chaos of interlinked minds, creating more than just ideas with the connexions and links and citations we create. Focused consciousness alters the world itself, and the easiest parts of the world to shift are those which are already moving; animate and alive beings, including humans.

If your aid to the planetary ecosystem and your fellow beings is limited (by responsibilities or current capabilities) to the work you enact by caring and sharing world-healing ideas online, your precious time and concentration has not been used in vain.

Yet if you’re serious about bringing positive changes into the world, enacting your beliefs to build something truly beneficial or to save something precious may be mandatory if you’re to look your self in the eye. Some imperative changes on Planet Earth require bods on the ground, or under the canopy, or in bright orange inflatable boats, to act in front-line delaying actions while the collective gets its act together.

Enlightenment is the Great Work. It requires no material input. On a material level the most honourable work available to humankind today is the continual protection and ongoing restoration of the habitats we and our ancestors have so thoughtlessly destroyed. This is the best way to ensure a healthy, happy future for ourselves, the other species with which we share the planet and all who come after us. This is the noblest calling of all for those whose work isn’t limited to virtual acts of virtue, or lighting a torch in the cave of the skull.

Environmental action holds paramount place amid the plethora of causes clamouring for our attention. No charitable cause intended to solely benefit humans can ever be more deserving. It takes far more than a thousand years to regrow a healthy thousand year old tree; you need a healthy forest around it first. Legislation to protect the Earth moves much more slowly than a chainsaw or harpoon, and real protection requires sensitive souls on the ground (or in a vessel). Helping the world is helping yourself to a better future.

It’s impossible to really know reality unless one experiences the natural world firsthand. Living in entirely artificial constructs like cities and towns is a fantasy existence where nothing a person can see or hear or touch or smell is natural, or even real. Almost every apparently natural rock or tree has been set in place by human hands, and everything is a construct of the human mind – thoughts literally made concrete. Urban dwellers experience an existence that occurs entirely inside the human mind.

The real world awaits, and it’s far more forgiving and accepting than most human societies. If you’re in a position free enough to strike out and experience the planet beyond ‘civilisation’ you’re part of the small minority the planet is crying out to for direct aid. Saving something real and good is a great way to save your self. Every action brings many reactions that occur on a multitude of levels. The natural world is the best place to learn to listen to the inner voice and follow the inner light.

Moving out of the constant whirl of society is a weaning process that can’t be taken lightly. Leaving constant distraction behind can be difficult – almost as difficult as facing all the inner turmoil we avoid by continual distraction. There is nothing more challenging for modern urban dwellers than learning to quiet the chattering mind and experiencing real peace.

Most are taught to put off living the lives they truly want to lead until ‘later’, but tomorrow never comes for those who wait to pursue their dreams until they’re tired and worn out. By the time humans have matured – by around thirty, when endless urban entertainment begins to pall – it’s high time to strike out and leave waiting behind. It’s also a great time to begin planting food trees and forests, while you can still eventually experience savouring the fruits of your labour. It’s never too early to leave the hive behind, or to examine your mind, or to experience the things that make living worthwhile. 

Meanwhile, there’s always time to dream, to know, to hope and help.

Dreaming the world into paradise is fun – and a far more fun ride than any of the alternatives. Dare to dream of paradise for all and we can still all end up there together – here, living the lives we’ve chosen on a blessed, beautiful jewel of a planet in a gloriously wondrous universe.

- by R. Ayana


P.S. – plenty of room out here in the bush – and plenty of restoration and regeneration of damaged paradisiacal ecosystems that need your help. And please share this!


See 'Transcendental Meditation Experiment Arrests Crime' @

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Monday, 14 July 2014

Utopia Now or Apocalypse Tomorrow: Freedom or Fatherland Insecurity

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Utopia Now or Apocalypse Tomorrow 
Freedom or Fatherland Insecurity

“I can’t see the human race getting very far, if women are busy making babies while men are busy killing people.”
 -         Kathleen Azzopardi, age 16 
Loving your country is natural, if you live in a natural landscape. All landforms and ecosystems are uniquely individual and people who truly live in them, rooted firmly in the nurturing earth, will always cherish and defend their homeland, families and traditional lifestyles.

            Until less than one generation ago most humans lived with nature, outside the modern mushrooming profusion of hive-like cities and towns. More often than not they lived happy, prosperous and fulfilling lives in mutually supportive groups of friends and families. A threat to their land was a threat to their family and their farm, their animals and crops – a threat to their existence. And the major threat to their pleasant lives was usually a city-building, dynastically minded empire-builder and his band of ignorant, willing spear carriers bent on pillage and rape.  

       Patriotism – the love of the ancestral parent-land – was used as a tool to harvest spear and cannon fodder as regularly as possible. The war machine’s appetite was always voracious and insatiable.

       These monarchic feudal empires ruled essentially unchanged through most of our histories before being partially reformed into our modern version of corporate wage-slavery after the Enlightenment. 

       Rallying around the flag was a necessity of battle, to be regularly practiced in the all-too-brief peacetime so that another generation could be marched into the maw of the beast with a minimum of complaint. The sporting, playful nature of humans was easily exploited for the purposes of war. 

       Regimented sporting codes enacting regional rivalries on a practice battlefield were encouraged by the rulers of most nations, to foster a militant and violently competitive mindset among the people and ensure that young men were encouraged and rewarded for possessing a near-suicidal lack of enlightened self-interest and individuality. Violent team sports are practice for the mindset of war, not a harmless sublimation of it.

       Nationalism, patriotism, racism and religion are the cornerstones of an age-old propaganda edifice that’s designed to stop humans of different tribes and races from thinking for themselves – and from learning to actually like and trust each other. These pernicious fantasies have very effectively impeded the unification of humanity in its race toward a millennial new age of peace, prosperity and familiarity – of fairness and compassion – until now.

        Now we have to replace these outmoded notions with much better concepts – a unified healthy planet, a noble species of sisters and brothers with awareness beyond mere materialism, educated in the undeniable facts of our truly remarkable existence and potential. Our true heritage and birthright is greater than we can currently imagine; a caterpillar can’t even see the butterfly.

       Nation states do not actually exist. Nations are merely notions, ideas that exist in no landscape but that of the habituated human mind. In such a notional state so-called patriots and soldiers are rewarded with an utterly undeserved credibility and trust, just as sportsmen and women are treated as great leaders and worthy sages for the duration of their prosaic lives.

        Nationalism is nothing more than an excuse to believe in an illusory us and them. There’s no honour, nobility or valour involved – loving your imaginary nation is the result of a hypnotic command that uses inflated, self-important racism to excuse murder, theft and extortion. Nationalism always creates a supposedly credible enemy for little girls and boys to demonise and to fantasise slaying in excruciating detail – and our innocent thoughts make the world.

       If all nations did what they claim as a sovereign right and simply defended their own territory and homeland, no war could ever occur. But defense is not what having a military force is for in our post-modern world.

        Patriotism is merely a pat excuse to riot and cause mayhem in the name of the paterfamilias and padrone, the father, fatherland and fuehrer – usually an old, lonely, blind, hidebound, vengeful psychotic with antisocial tendencies; the monomaniac leading the blind. 

        These are standard primate traits; not hard-wired behaviour but default settings that are easily tripped by fearful ignorance. Height makes might makes right and the rest is window-dressing and uniforms covering up an essentially mindless, reptilian territorialism that has no ethic but the satisfaction of its own reflexive, insatiable desires.

        All our mass beliefs, education and political systems are based on religiously followed lies and self-deceptions, designed to make people fracture themselves into a false hierarchy of castes and classes, winners and losers, victims and victors. 

       Our warriors are blind killer apes, our priests are lunatics baying at the moon and our leaders are old terrified self-aggrandising assholes shitting on everyone else from the top of the tree, marking territory.

       You know it’s true. We’re all one people, with shared emotions, dreams, hopes and aspirations, fractured into a fearful, clamorous Babel of broken mirrors by the lies and errors of those who preceded us. There’s no point respecting leaders of the past or present, no point listening to their vaporous self-serving mockery of intelligent discourse - or in showering them with spirit money or campaign contributions. 

        The vast majority of all our ancestors were mainly blind, reflexive automatons doing nothing more than their equally robotic predecessors. Today’s leaders and followers are just the same old dinosaurs tarted up in less ornate finery, sucking the cream off our collective mother’s milk at our expense. They’re lying  front-men for the industrialist robber barons, weapon makers and corporate gangsters that despise and fear the rest of Humanity - and who would rather be rid of the majority of us.

        Our veneration may be better reserved for the truly deserving visionaries who improve the lot of all humanity at the expense of no-one – those who question and consider, create and experiment; those who examine themselves, nature - and their own nature. Of course, it’s much harder to recall the name of a single one of these individuals than to remember the name of a myriad of sportspeople, generals or delusional religious figures. 

       Religious dogmas – ‘faiths’ - are nothing more than regional lies told by the blind, the misled and the control freaks of a bygone era. The truth will set you free from the desire for faith. Certainty is much more satisfying and is found in the simplest things by those who really want to root their belief systems in knowledge of the nature of reality – not the nursery rhymes of paedophiles. 

       Seek the truth in geometry, the substrates and matrices of our existence – the subject leads to other planes of awareness that reveal unexpected pathways through the multifaceted maze between here and tomorrow.

       The true shakers and movers of history are largely invisible to us, shoved aside by the makers and shovers who ensure their names occupy every billboard - and that’s actually a good thing, because the victor goes to spoilage and corruption at the focus of the undying attention lavished upon them by a servile, adulating, sub-adult population of hypnotised slaves and servants. The hero is always nailed to the cross of mass expectation and prejudice, gaining power and glory at the expense of freedom and inspiration – or tripping and falling over feet of clay.

       This catalogue of woefully repeated ancestral errors only works within unenlightened cultures whose parents allow their children to be ‘taught’ in systems designed as religious programming or job training for automatons. We need to expose our children to fresh concepts in places and mindsets that are carefully crafted for the edification and education of young minds with unexplored potential in a world where anything is possible – not institutions that subject them to being subject to subjects.

      Today’s schools and universities are the bastard offspring of arrogant industry and self-serving charity, bricks in the wall that separate us into haves and have-nots. They divide the best sponge-like young minds into separate streams and dead-end specialisations, blocking the development of a well-rounded intellect and life, rechanneling it into a careering, unsteerable vehicle that temporarily serves the purposes of industry.

       It’s the old methodology of divide and conquer applied to the brightest minds and the truest, most innocent alliance of truth-seekers, lost in the fossilising shadow-maze of the ivory tower.Rigid specialisation is the opposite of adaptation and synthesis; it’s the worst survival mechanism in a changing paradigm.

       Specialisation creates hierarchy and hierarchies are designed to impede change and maintain the status quo of stasis.If you think someone is an inferior or superior when you communicate with them you end up learning nothing; the worth of the information is already compartmentalised, pre-judged and prejudiced - not explored for its intrinsic value and qualities.If you assume the person you’re communicating with is a free, coequal and consciously living being there’s a much better likelihood of fruitful synergy. Friendly interest arouses friendly interest and free thought and communication creates unexpected hybridisation and catalysis. 

We don’t need hierarchies any more. We’re all one people, similar in our diversity and united in our sense of unique difference. We’ve outgrown our blind larval past and unless we change our ways now most of us are going to starve to death and die in the wars that will erupt when the food and other prime resources jam up in the inevitable human-created bottlenecks looming in our near future.

             Would you prefer it wasn’t you that’s passing their precious time rearranging deckchairs while the coal-fired ship’s master keeps yelling ‘Full steam ahead’? Would you prefer it was someone else? Do you see the bald, blind imperative illogic of ‘us’ and ‘them’, when we’re all on the same Titanic vessel in an uncharitable sea?We don’t have to take that path; there’s a steering wheel and the future sea has no fixed roads, only currents and tides, icebergs and landfalls. 


We can develop a new system, a truly new world order based on freedom and chaotic creativity, a new, truer democracy that votes for issues, not faces – one that votes early and often, not for parties or clans but for the betterment of all and a fair distribution of resources and trade in a chaotic state of increasing abundance. The skills to make a new Humanity are well-known and available to us all now – if we seek them.

       With clean, free energy and fuels at our disposal and a real commitment to sustainable abundance the entire world can live at the standard of living of middle-class Americans without trashing or utterly transforming the ecosystem. The technology is all waiting for us, sat on and bought out and hidden for decades by the fearful old fossil-fuel dinosaurs. We don’t need them – and that’s what they fear the most.

       Utopia is easily achievable. All we have to do is transform and educate ourselves. We can stabilise and enrich the environment and our cultures into a dynamically productive and creative utopia and transform our lives. We can discover the meaning and challenge of leisure time – another term for freedom. We’ll even find new things to dream and complain about.

       We can make it happen. All the tools are at our disposal, fully developed and waiting for us to pick up and use. All it takes is a willing and educated population, a free media, unilateral disarmament and a totally transparent and continually examined computerised voting system – all on a global scale and in your local neighbourhood.
       It takes a representative world governance – not a government - of all the diverse human tribes, united under the expansive umbrella of the already existing International Bill of Rights – a document that already protects our rights and freedoms and is responsible for most of the great advances of the last half century (that everyone’s taken for granted as unexpected benisons of their own credit-taking individual governments).

     All it takes to live in paradise on Earth is for you to examine your self and your mind, suspend your belief and disbelief, and listen to your unknown neighbour.

     All it takes is for you to consider the possibilities – and look inside your heart. Is a freely shared world of free, caring beings what you want? Are you ready to change jobs, to vote with your time and work in a field that transforms the world for the better instead of one that’s polluting and destroying it - or feeding or servicing those who are?

     Are you ready to discard homeland insecurity with the other rotten fear-filled rags of the past and emerge naked and innocent into a strange, new and fundamentally unknowable dawn?

      The question is the same whether you’re a princess or a pauper. What’s the answer? Can you come up with a better alternative than radical transmutation – given where we’re at right now? Or do you prefer the known ‘alternative’ of the same old feudal nightmare leading to the ragged hole?

       You won’t need to remember where it was that you read this diatribe, one day in the future when it all makes sense – for better or worse. This author doesn’t particularly want to be noticed or remembered; eye for one intend to be alive and happy in a world inhabited by a prosperous, improving Humanity! How about you?Do you dare to dream of paradise now? 

-         R. Ayana 

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Monday, 7 July 2014

The Black Goddess and the Sixth Sense

The Black Goddess & the Sixth Sense
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What Our Self-Blinding Societies Fail To See:
 You Can't Know What You’ve Lost When It's Gone  
Some books alter the way you view the world forever. The Black Goddess and the Sixth Sense by Peter Redgrove demonstrates the inherent selective blindness of modern Humanity, and shows how things that are repressed – symbolised by the ‘dark senses’ and the hidden female forces that shape the world – are rising to balance human vision once again.  

    Redgrove paints breathtaking pictures of the modern mindscape in relation to the myths of Oedipus and the Sphinx and shows how, like Oedipus, self-blinding, self-mutilating patriarchies have led humans to believe they are the end-point of evolution, having solved all ‘important’ mysteries. Historically, this view has led to very real ‘end points’ of another nature entirely.

       These deeply embedded and psychically active symbologies also indicate how warrior religions overturned earlier, widespread, more homogenous cultures all over the world, which were more in tune with their environment – cultures which had day-to-day access to the self-evident ‘mysteries’ were systematically eradicated and subsumed by more violently aggressive groups. The conquerors had numbed their true ‘sensuous perceptions’ by alienating the sexes from each other and their senses from themselves, in their daily habits and taboos.  

    This schism in the species is slowly being healed from within, according to Redgrove, by the sublime senses and supersenses that we have submerged – but fortunately have been incapable of eradicating.  

    He explores the multi-channeled communications systems of nature, many of which we are still rediscovering in ourselves and other species. His elegantly flowing prose illuminates a living planet aswarm with multifaceted symphonies that surround and interpenetrate all of us. He takes us swimming through a dazzling spectrum of sensory modes, pointing out;  

    “There are more than seventy octaves of electromagnetic radiation, and the human being acknowledges the visibility of less than one octave, our sight being cramped, as it were, between the red and the violet; the colour of our arterial and intravenous blood.” Sight itself takes up about eighty percent of ‘normal’ sensory brain function; like Oedipus, ‘civilised’ humanity has been blinding itself to the bulk of information that’s always been bombarding and informing us.    Our immature worldviews have relegated most of the actual universe to the status of the peripheral and unimportant – and yet we are not ‘naturally’ blind to these vast forces and energies that surround and interpenetrate us; we have deliberately blinded ourselves to any so-called anomalies that don’t fit into the arbitrary jigsaw puzzles of our religious beliefs and pseudo-scientific dogmas.  

    Redgrove – co-author with Penelope Shuttle of the widely-acclaimed Wise Wound, that deals with the rediscovery of the rhythms of the female body – describes studies of animal intelligence and the sophisticated versatility of animal communication forms, touching on the nature of instinct as an agency of the multi-channeled life force of Gaia, our living planet.      He claims modern humans have willingly separated themselves from much of their environment, consciously acknowledging only a tiny portion of reality.  

    Visual, audible, tactile, infrared, chemical and electromagnetic sensitivity are discussed and explored as modes of perception and communication – an example being the ‘external hormones’ or pheromones which allow communication between humans, other animals, insects and plants – even across species, phylum and order boundaries.  

    “The chemical constituents of animal and plant hormones, sex pheromones and messenger systems in plants and animals are all closely similar. This is why, for instance, the pig responds to the truffle – the latter emits a sex odour-chemical almost identical to the pig’s own; and why you find human insulin in a common bacterium.” There is a near-universal communications system continually functioning between all plants and animals, and one which humans are implicately involved within at all times – yet this ‘hidden, dark’ mode of seemingly extra-sensory communication, that determines many of our actions and reactions, remains almost totally unacknowledged and unexplored.

    The Taoist and Tantric schools of knowledge - which were actively investigating these and other vitally important levels of reality and consciousness for millennia - were all destroyed by self-blinded militarists and unquestioning religions. The numbed conquerors feared any deep investigations of the self, seeing sex and sensuous reality as a threat to their domination and control of the womb and society.

    This continues to the present day with the persecution and destruction of groups such as the followers of Rajneesh/Osho, the spiritual practitioners of Falun Gong, Tantra, shamanism and ‘new age’ explorers of all hues. Instead we prop up the pernicious fantasies of pathological liars, supporting pedophile religionists and destructive money-mad technologists with our precious time and energy. As a result we have misplaced more than mere access to our supersenses and sensitivities; we have alienated Humanity from itself by driving impermeable wedges between female and male, child and adult, emotion and intellect, self and other.  
    Humans have cut ourselves off from our ability to consciously control our own fertility and we do not allow ourselves or our children to see or hear vital subtle aspects of reality always perceived by our native cousins and ancestors, who evolved detailed descriptions and sciences of the unseen. The implications and realities of deep empathy and even telepathy are ignored as inadmissible data, despite the fact that everyone experiences these things all the time; we’ve all been carefully taught to ignore obvious truths and to mimic the emperor’s love of invisible clothes, and his immature desire for superfluous gewgaws.

    Chimpanzees don’t copy useless or superfluous behaviours; they only mimic things that appeal to their common sense and fit into their societies without disrupting or destroying them. Yet ‘more evolved modern’ humans engage in self-destructive behaviour and copy pointless and even painful fashions and activities without question.   We fail to see that we share the world with a myriad of unseen forces and entities while we fill our children’s open minds with lies about the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, Gentle Jesus and Wise Mohammed and the Angel Moron(i) - that inevitably lead innocents to distrust their elders and become cynical materialists, denying their inner awarenesses of the unknown.

        Modern processes of education and training also automatically blind children to the unexplained, unacknowledged realities they see and feel all the time. Each generation puts out the eyes of the next to arrest evolution and humans maintain their shuffling stumble through darkness, wondering where the light we all knew and faithfully followed as children has gone.   All alterations to the perfected temple of the human body are suspect. Genital mutilation has literally cut humans off from their supersenses while numbing the species’ feelings and emotions. We have mutilated our bodies and our minds to fit into a sterile, desert-making hierarchical pyramid kingdom of blind termites, in which the one-eyed obsessive always manages to remain King.       

       From the healing of warts and cancers by hypnosis and the nature of the immune system, to the human effects of modern mass communications, and insect antennae being morphically tuned to the electromagnetic spectrum, The Black Goddess and the Sixth Sense is a goldmine of interconnected facts and scientific revelations. For instance, keratin – a common protein found in your hair and nails – is piezoelectric. It actually generates electricity – and radio waves – under pressure, or, for instance, when long hair is waving in the wind or moving. We literally cut off a multileveled mode of communication when we cut ourselves off from our hair. 

    “Gases containing free-flowing organic materials, like pheromones, are especially voracious of infra-red and microwaves, and the organic molecules will re-radiate this energy that is poured into them, although it will be transformed by the vibratory system of the particular molecule.” The radio waves generated by our hair cause our pheromones to fluoresce in the ultraviolet range, making our ‘auras’ glow just at the edge of our accepted perceptions. 

       Pheromones are a form of chemical communications transmitted from most of your body, passing through us as hormones and traveling between almost all species as aerial pheromones. Pheromone receptors are found wherever we have mucous membranes and these substances are passed into and through us from all other lifeforms. Modern drugs and cosmetics mute and conceal these substances and serve to further cut us off from each other and the living world, while blocking our pores and receptors. As every young child knows, your hair and nails are integral and important components of a whole, unsullied being.

        Science is coming to tentative explanations of such concepts as auras and the existence of aspects of an underlying morphogenetic field or collective consciousness, and researcher have found ways to actually detect such fields within the well-known electromagnetic spectrum. “One view of atomic structure is that matter itself is like an interference pattern between waves… matter is a particular form of electromagnetism…” 

       The ‘onlooker’ or ‘spectator’ consciousness prevalent in the Western paradigm and science from Aristotle to today is reviewed by Redgrove. It is compared with such self-integrating concepts as Chi and Feng-shui from ancient China - and other cultures more aware of the “radiant continuum” of life than our ‘modern scientific’ viewpoint, with its blinkered attempts to monopolise knowledge into a simplistic, dead-end materialistic coffin.  

    In our pursuit of knowledge we have been led inexorably toward recognition of ‘invisible’ forces. In our denial of the sensuous invisibles we create invisible terrors, due to the blind spots we refuse and fear to see and the numb places we refuse and fear to feel.   The Black Goddess shows how culturally implanted anti-sensual isolation and guilt has led to the repression of our supersenses, magical belief systems and even non-abstract Romantic and representational art and music. All apparently ‘acausal’ phenomena are tidily and fixedly ignored in the inaccurately neat Aristotelian worldview, whose denizens ignore their imaginations and therefore ignore an organ of perception into unknown realms.   From this deep pit of sublimation, the ‘Black Goddess’ of our suppressed nature rises all-pervasive; like the Sphinx, She is a mediatrix who can reconcile apparent opposites into a fused complementary whole, freeing females and males, humans and animals, intellect and emotion from their unreal abstractions of each other.

        We populate the unknown with programmed fears and mythological angels wielding flaming swords that bar us from the Paradise that surrounds us - instead of exploring the dark, ‘subconscious’ realms of our world with unrecognised senses and supersenses already tailored to its infinite depths. Darkness is not an absence, not the enemy of the light; it is its palpable, unexplored complement.
The Black Goddess and the Sixth Sense is a book destined to radically change the perceptions and beliefs of any who read it.    



Your parents and grandparents were happy and satisfied to be lied to by those who still get away with stealing the wealth and knowledge of the Earth (and everywhere else) for themselves  – are you?

Turn on. Tune in. Opt OUT!   

-               R. Ayana  

-                This article is NOT a paid ad for this publication, but a genuinely appreciative appraisal of a landmark work by an insightful author. A shorter version was published in NEXUS New Times magazine, Vol. 1, No 5 

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