No one seemed angry.

As a matter of fact, this group was particularly…Nice. With a capital “n”….

Smiling, polite, helpful, tidy….hmmmm.

It was only the occasional twitch of a jaw muscle, or the tone of voice that wobbled a smidgen out of the modulated range of “Happy”, that lead one’s attention past the “I
should smile now” smiles and into the dead and woutrying to smilended eyes.

Like all the schools and hospitals and banks and churches that are made to look welcoming and cheery in order to hide the truth simmering within, slipping into the eyes of these sweet people was to cross a threshold into disappointment… (deeper), doubt… (deeper), disillusionment…(deeper) and shame.  Bubbling up through it all, kept in check by steel plates of Will and Propriety, was pure, white-hot rage.

It was only in the wee hours, after we had finished our work for the retreat and were clambering to our beds through the snow and winds that had risen to wipe all traces of our first passing….

No. Maybe it was even later, after the tea ceremony and the Gathering Up and the Leaving, as I sat holding them all inside me, that I remembered Spring.

Following Medicine Wheel teachings, we see the path between the Northern Gate of the winter to springWinter Solstice and the Eastern Gate of the Spring Equinox as being a time of sifting through the layers of identity we have learned and internalised from our ancestors, and letting go of what no longer serves us. At the vernal equinox we step out of the darkness of our inner journey and across a threshold into the outside world. As much as it is possible to experience joy and buoyancy as we shed our winter layers and spring forward into the new, green world, we may also feel fear and doubt, causing hesitation on our way…. The bright light of the outside world may feel aggressively intrusive when we are holding shame and invested in not being Seen.

We’re taught in the traditions of oriental medicine that Nature resonates with the energies of the Wood Element in this phase of the seasonal cycle. This adds to the Wood Element energies in our bodies, making some people feel great (those with too little Wood energy) and others feel awful (those who already have a lot of it and are tilted into excess). Wood Element energies are those present in the Liver and Gall Bladder meridians and organs as well as in the eyes and the joints, so physical symptoms may be experienced relating to these systems.

trree with rootsThe metaphor of Wood is beautifully applicable to this phase of our growth: the élan of creative self-manifestation in the belly rises like sap upward. When this energy hits the area of the solar plexus, it is often met with a barrier of self-limiting beliefs: “You can’t do that, you’re a girl!”; “You’re too stupid to do that kind of job”; “Tu es né pour un petit pain”; “This was good enough for your parents – why isn’t it good enough for you?”

The teachings of the Wood Element, therefore, are about obstacles and how we deal with them. Most translations from Chinese and Japanese will tell you, and therefore most western practitioners of the oriental medical arts believe, that Wood deals with anger. My experience, however, is that we need to look more deeply… and with more compassion.

Anger is a much-maligned emotion in this anger-provoking society of ours. (“Eeeeeeew! He’s so aaaaangry!”) Most of our rules and laws and courts are created as attempts at ANGRY THEN KEEP QUIET-03anger control and management. As much as we fear and shame anger, it continues to flood out of our ubiquitous screens and to swell and leak into the streets. Worried more with the consequences than the causes, we Do.Our.Best.To.Control.It. “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all!” So we walk around with jaws clenched and bellies biliously a-rumble. Many of us have been the victims of anger as children, and have sworn to Never, Ever, do the same to others. So it all goes inside, swallowed, gulp after burning gulp. ( 22 Minutes: Angrier Yoga – YouTube  www.youtube.com/watch?v=K5iSHhpj67Y)

Our options, when we argetty_rm_photo_of_man_over_sleeping_depressede blocked by programmed beliefs in limitation, are to get seriously
pissed off – not the culturally acceptable thing to do – or to turn the frustration back into ourselves, containing it again and again until it takes so much energy to keep the accumulated anger under control that we have no more left for getting out of bed.  So…. People who are depressed are actually enraged but unable/unwilling to express it.

Once we’ve become officially “depressed”, woo-hoo! We need medication!self_medicating_housewife-r0c8430e693224fde8728bf9ffb8df7bb_vgbaq_8byvr_512

Antidepressants give some people a much-needed vacation from feeling; retracting
the vital energy from our skins to deeper inside ourselves, we become energetically thick-skinned…. Recreational drugs also can help us escape outside of ourselves into other dimensions, or just make us feel so much better about the certainty that we are not doing anything or going anywhere in our lives.

escapeThere can be such a variety of obstacles appearing in our paths, seemingly getting in the way of our self-realisation. How do we react to having our intentions blocked? Do we yelling on phonecollapse, immobile, because “That’s Life for you – I knew it! I’ll Never get ahead!” Do we explode and attack the thing that dares be in our way? Or do we think, ”Hmmm. Maybe there’s another way around this – another path I could take?”

The first two ways of dealing with obstacles are actually the opposite sides of the same coin, with the intensity of our reactions depending on just how much ego-investment we have in getting where we want to go. The disillusioned, disappointed and betrayed are also angry. Disappointment is a moral high
ground from which to damn offending parties with the brand of inadequacy. And righteous anger is so addictive.

Shame and guilt are often perceived as obstacles as well, and can become intolerable enough to make anger a logical escape route. Doubt, uncertainty, insecurity – all the fear-induced labyrinthine mental activity that paralyzes us – can transmute in slow burn into frustration and potentially explode into rage.

Our common and fundamental wounding is the certainty that we are somehow not good enough to be loved. If we are not loved, we will be alone, and we know in an ancient, visceral way that we will not survive on our own. We throw ourselves into the world to prove that all the horrible things we believe about ourselves are not really true. We often even succeed for a while. When we are finally cornered, though, by someone or by a situation that reflects to us what we have always really believed, we fight tooth and nail… in reality, against ourselves.

Every emotion we experience is a precise physiological recipe of hormones and neuro-depressiontransmitters.  When we are young, new and strong emotions can be very scary. Because it literally feels as if we will die if we feel them, we instead store the emotions inside our bodies for later, when we are big and strong and can deal with them. This is the definition of somatisation.

My understanding is that we later attract to ourselves people and situations that will replicate the recipes of emotions we have somatised, giving us the opportunity to relive the forgotten experiences and in so doing, to release them from our bodies. No amount of intellectual understanding can free the Self of what is carried in the body; only the reliving of the physical sensation of the emotion – of that particular physiological recipe – will provide release and liberation. This is why your bi-weekly sessions on a psychoanalyst’s couch may make you feel very intelligent but will never heal you.

There is another stream of psychotherapy that has clients expressing their anger towards those seen to be responsible for their suffering. I can’t count the number of times I have heard clients of so-inclined therapists making impassioned statements along the lines of, “No one is ever going to step on me again!”, or “I don’t deserve this!”young girl pointing on you Somewhere at Heartroot we still have a huge pillow that a therapist had a client stab repeatedly with a kitchen knife, pretending it was her mother. But here’s the spiritual fly in that particular ointment: Whatever we attract to ourselves belongs to us – all that we love and all that we detest is a reflection of things we do not yet understand about ourselves. Putting someone’s picture on your punching-bag or in the shooting gallery is actually putting your own image there. The rage, far from being released, is reabsorbed, re-identified with, and increased in its potency. Blaming “The Other”, we never take responsibility for calling the situation to ourselves and never have the opportunity to use our emotions to go into our bodies, into the flesh and organs and joints and bones that hold imprisoned and painful rememberings.

For anger to be released from the body, it needs to go as energy, freed into
african dance the universe with no blame and no shame. Spiritually-oriented martial arts, singing with your whole body, dancing to strong rhythms as in African dance (not trance dancing…), a punching-bag, conscious orgasms, or even walking brisklLife's enjoymenty can all be outlets for this accumulated, concentrated energy of self-manifestation.

(Updated for 2017)  We are in the Wood Element phase of Springtime in the northern hemisphere, and in the year of the Fire Rooster in Chinese astrology – our inner work feeding the flames of planetary transformation of which we are now inescapably aware.  And like the Phoenix, we will rise….


Blessèd Be..!

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Yesterday I stumbled into this article that I wrote for The Heretic Magazine, Vol.5, in 2014, and although it was time-specific and therefore parts are dated, I’m still surprised at the extent to which it is relevant now…. (Not a short read…and I’m not responsible for the Roman numerals!! hehehe….Just too lazy to change them all back!)

The Shift of the Ages. It seems as if I’ve been reading and hearing about this – and feeling its approach – all my life.
Then again, maybe most of us have, especially in the past couple of years, though we’ve likely attributed our perceptions to causes more personal and individual: ‘I wish I had more energy’; ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me – I just can’t seem to make decisions these days’; ‘This is so embarrassing – my life is a soap-opera!’; ‘When xyz that I am waiting for finally happens, I’ll be able to move on in my life’…. Haven’t you noticed how terribly commonplace it is for people to feel overwhelmed these days – by lack of direction, by rapid and random changes that are creating chaos in the 9-to-5, by rootlessness and indecision? A sense that the planet is teetering precariously on the edge of a darker and darker reality seems to be vying with another potential – that we are actually at the brink of a leap of consciousness into a great, multidimensional unknown.

While the need to Find Oneself, to Express Oneself, to find One’s Mission or Calling, and the corollary of all this, be True to Oneself, has become the ubiquitous meme of those with the leisure to read, study and Google, it might actually be those who have been just barely surviving for long enough to feel they have nothing to lose who have become most vocal about their desire for Something Else – for a meaning to their lives. One could make quite a cogent argument for this mal d’être being the motivation behind the entire Arab Spring; the wonderful documentary film about the Egyptian uprising, ‘The Square’, seems to substantiate this point of view as well.i

Home”, in the sense we have learned to cherish, is a refuge from the fear and insecurity of what is unknown – a place where we know the rules. It’s a cage, perhaps, but one that we know intimately, often rebelling while relishing the tastes, smells, beliefs and behaviours that have been cultivated and preserved over generations – it is a placenta that nourishes us until we are strong and able enough to set out and create a duplicate of our own. (I can hear some of you vehemently denying that you have replicated your parents’ home, but it is not only imitation, but rejection as well that flatters.)

But in these chaotic and volatile times, nothing is certain or stable – we have lost that comfy-housecoat-and-slippers sense of safety. Many of us are even finding that either emotionally or literally, we have no Home – no safe place to go and hibernate until… it’s all over?

How do we face the dark on the edge of annihilation? How do we find the dark within and transform it, own it as our own power? How do we dream it into a new image, dream it into actions that will change the world into a place where no more horror stories happen, where there are no more victims?” asks Starhawk in the Prologue to her 2012 Dreaming the Dark.ii

How, indeed….

There are some for whom the question is a non sequitur, as they believe that nothing that is now occurring is any more threatening than what humanity has previously visited upon itself. All is as usual. Every generation has had its challenges. This is ours. Apocalyptic notions and conspiracy theories of all stripes are paranoid and unfounded hogwash. This opinion is shared by such eminences as anthropologist Wade Davisiii and, if I am not mistaken, The Heretic’s own Andrew Gough.

Then there is the ‘the end of the world is nigh’ fraternity. Bob Nichols in Veterans Todayiv, December 28, 2013, expresses his feelings about life after Fukushima thus: ‘There are no solutions. You will die quicker or later – it’s your choice.’ He and many other researchers to whom I have spoken believe that the Japanese disaster of 3-3-11 was what they call an ‘extinction-level event’.v This world-view might seem diametrically opposed to the ‘business as usual’ sorts, but I think I hear a common impotent, laissez-faire-because-there’s-nothing-you-can-do-about-it-anyway tone in both discourses.

Other strains of nihilism envision a panoply of means to our demise. Many of them claim that the tsunami that hit Fukushima was HAARP (High-frequency Active Auroral Research Programvi) induced, and point to a depopulation agenda that they feel has been clearly stated and secretly orchestrated through a variety of methods that have masqueraded as means of social advancement: fluoridation, vaccinations, GMOs, fertilisers and pesticides, aerosol spraying of chemicals (chemtrails- ha! Not even recognised by Spellcheck!), processed and junk foods, electromagnetic radiation, and a growing number of chemical pharmaceuticals …. The HIV and SARS flu viruses, among others, are alleged to have been seeded into the human population purposefully with population reduction in mind. Now the bubonic plague, infamous as the Black Death and dreaded for having wiped out huge percentages of every population to have hosted it, is back as well.vii Piquing my interest are the very insistent warnings of antibiotic-resistant strains which ‘could potentially’ escape the island nation of Madagascar where it has been spreading in crowded, rat-infested conditions.

That a ruling Elite, composed of malevolent beings, human and/or non-human, is combining with the global military-industrial complexviii in efforts to enslave us under a New World Order, is another possibility espoused by a great many people who have made informing humanity of these things their mission. These include David Ickeix, Kerry Cassidyx and Bill Ryan,xiAlex Jones xiiand a whole slough of radio shows and independent media outlets. Canadian Benjamin Fulford, former Asian Business Editor for Forbes magazine, publishes a ‘weekly geo-political news and analysis’, the ‘Asian Underground Report’ from Japanxiii. That he IS still in Japan I suppose says something about whatever information he is privy to with respect to the consequences of Fukushima.xiv

Other potential apocalyptic events that are making the rounds of the collective consciousness are a meteor hit (ISON, Nibiru, Planet X, Elenin, the Blue Kachina….) or electromagnetic shifts that would trigger all active volcanoes, the most dangerous being Yellowstone, which is poised to blow in the very centre of the N. American continentxv. There are also those who believe that as we are gradually increasing the interface of humanity and technology, we will eventually give up our frail and fallible bodies to meld seamlessly with a biotechnological Singularity. For some, such as ‘futurist’ Ray Kurtzweill, this smells like omnipotence, omniscience and freedomxvi. An article by Peter Suderman in The Washington Times on June 1, 2011, quoted ‘R. U. Sirius’, editor of H+ (Humans Plus) magazine:There’s a certain alertness to the science fictional nature of current reality as we start to see artificial intelligences compete in chess and then on ‘Jeopardy,’ and we see the manipulation of biology becoming a leading industry, and we see people being regularly ‘cyborged’ with replacement parts.’ Entitled ‘X-Men’ and us: Are we all part superhero now?’, the article went on to suggest that the new run on superhero movies is aimed at popularising the idea amongst technology-obsessed youth that we need not be ‘merely human’.

Some feel that to foresee the trend to transhumanism ending up as a Singularity over-extrapolates on an equation with too many variablesxvii. For the biophiles (a term used derogatively by many futurists, it seems) among us, it carries the scent of death, as part of a ‘Transhumanist Agenda’ which has as its goal the reduction of our human potential for accessing higher dimensions of existencexviii.

Although we managed to survive past the dreaded date of December 21, 2012, there is still a deep, strong current of belief that civilisation as we understand it will be wiped out in the not-too-distant future. The planet will be devastated by global warming or a global ice age or World War III or maleficent extra-terrestrials, or we may disappear as a species into the bowels of a machine – in these scenarios, only the few hardy, prepared, armed or safely hidden underground will survive. If this is what we can expect from the Shift of the Ages, it’s a bit like popping from 5th into reverse – and a great way to wreck a transmission!

A hefty percentage of the global spiritual community seems to extrapolate from the tenet that The world is an illusion and our realities are created by our own beliefs, to If we focus our attention on horrible things, they will happen. We must concentrate only on the positive if we wish for positive outcomes. This mind-set is described by James Gillilandxix, in a December 21, 2013, message with the cheery title, ‘A New Age Denial and Death Sentence’, as new age teachings which were generated from Stanford Research Institute and other groups working with mind control and steering the masses…. The new age philosophy…is one of the many ways this evil has progressed to a level where it is going to take a cataclysmic event to dethrone it…. It is smug arrogance and ignorance, mind controlled spiritual ego to continue in these perpetuated doctrines… The neutered, zombie, mind controlled robot worker is not an option….’

Wouldn’t the ‘neutered, zombie, mind controlled robot workers’ among us – not, I suspect, a demographic that would include many readers of The Heretic – be by definition unaware of their torpor and regard the status quo as a simple, unquestioned Reality? I think that Mr. Gilliland is confusing those in the spiritual community who are actually having to exert a great deal of discipline in order to ignore any impinging negativity (I see people sticking their fingers in their ears and singing loudly, ‘LALALALA…’. Or perhaps ‘Om’ in ascending decibels: ‘om…Om…OM…OOOMMM!!!’), with the zombie robot workers whose noses are kept uncomfortably close to their whirring grindstones in order to avoid anything not fed to them by the pablum news. Mind you, even the grindstones aren’t as smooth as what they used to be – the odds of keeping your measly-paying job aren’t great these days. It’s pretty much a crap shoot whether or not one stays employed, in the zombie robot-worker reality. We are on shifting sands, and those who desperately want Security, must spend more and more time, money and energy in maintaining its illusion.

That the Apocalypse and the Second Coming of the Messiah are just around the corner is an absolute certainty for many who read all the prophetic signs as having appeared. As a matter of fact, a very thick thread coloured by the religious and evangelical Right runs through the upper echelons of governance in the West. Messrs. Bush & Co., as well as the present Prime Minister of Canada, Stephen Harper, belong to that shade of Christianity that requires Jewish people to be in Israel at the time of the Rapture. (Why? Best not to ask….) This probably goes a long way toward explaining the ‘the end justifies the means’ attitude to election-rigging (they are put there by God, not mere mortals) and their embarrassingly effusive love-affair with Israel, who is acting like the favourite son who knows he can get away with murder (sic) and still be seen as just ‘a bit mischievous’.

The anticipation of the Messiah in 2014 – 2015 has been stoked by the discovery of a pattern related to the phenomenon of Blood Moons, discovered by Pastor Mark Biltz and expanded in the book Four Blood Moons by Pastor John Hagee.xx From the Book of Joel, Chapter 3:3-4: ‘And I will show wonders in the heavens and in the earth, blood, and fire, and pillars of smoke. The sun shall be turned into darkness, and the moon into blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord come.’ It seems that historically the occurrence of Blood Moons (the red glow of the moon during full solar and lunar eclipses) on both Jewish celebrations of Pesach and Sukkot in a given year has coincided with significant events for the Jewish people.xxi Messianic Christians and Jews alike are ante-ing up for the arrival of You-Know-Who in the very near future.

There is much happening in the world, however, to dilute, and perhaps even entirely counter, a sackcloth-and-ashes perspective.

When there is mass unemployment, poverty and homelessness, as in Egypt, globally on indigenous reserves, in the U.S.A. and in the numerous war zones splattered around the planet, people begin to ask questions…and demand answers. Determination and hope begin eventually to germinate in the humus of decaying societies.

The righteous certainty that we must fight oppression and darkness if we are to topple the elite hierarchy (‘the 1%’) that now dominates the world, motivates communities such as Gilliland et al as well as the hacking, whistle-blowing, social-media-fuelled Occupy and Anonymous movements. The swelling Idle No More movement, based in indigenous, Earth-honouring spirituality, acts in fulfillment of prophecies from many nations that spoke of how the Red Race would come to the assistance of Humanity at this time, when the Earth is perched on the edge of annihilation, to remind us of how to walk in balance.xxii The path of the spiritual warrior is leading many of us out of the safety of our meditation rooms and hilltop hiding places. ‘We need a politics of conscience – a new era of public discourse in which love is not minimized, the voices of women and children are not marginalized, and the future is not bartered for a pot of unrighteous gold. Love should be our bottom line, in politics as well as in everything else’, says Marianne Williamson, a spiritual teacher of repute who has recently announce her candidacy for election to the U.S. House of Representatives from California’s Congressional District 33.xxiii

Increasingly, very serious and credible people are bringing forward the message that Earth has always been and will continue to be under the surveillance of off-planet beings who love and care for us. In 2005, Paul Hellyer, a former Canadian Defense Minister, was the first high-ranking politician to publicly speak of an alien presence on Earth, and he is still going strong.xxiv Since then, documentary film-makers Juan Carlos Rulfo and Raul Julia-Levy (producer), collaborated with the Mexican government to launch the film Revelations of the Mayans: 2012 and Beyond, timed for release in December, 2012. Apparently under express orders from President Álvaro Colom Caballeros, and ‘for the good of humanity’, ‘Mexico (released) codices, artifacts and significant documents with evidence of Mayan and extraterrestrial contact, and all of their information… corroborated by archaeologists.’xxv Many of the images shared from the suppressed Mexican archives are identical to those of the vimanas – the flying ships described and illustrated in painstaking detail in numerous ancient Indian textsxxvi.

Mary Rodwell, author of Extraterrestrials, Human Consciousness and Dimensions of Soul: The intimate connectionxxvii – a kind, intelligent Australian former nurse who could be anybody’s favourite aunt- has gathered thousands of testimonies attesting to the presence of extra-terrestrials and other-dimensionals among us, and of humans as hybrids of a variety of other species. Ms. Rodwell describes the present global shift as an awakening, the most intense part of this process to be achieved by 2017, and the passage into another reality having been completed by 2025. What lends weight to these dates for me is that, in the Yuga Cycle or Kalachakra of Indian tradition, the end-year for the Kali Yuga (the Age of Deterioration) and the threshold into Satya Yuga (the Age of Truth) is 2025.xxviii

For nothing is hid, that shall not be made manifest; nor [anything] secret, that shall not be known and come to light… Luke 8:17

Over the past year or so, a great many free or zero-point energy sources have crept out of hiding. Hundreds of ‘how-to’ videos and blueprints are available on the internet for DIY–ers who want to at least protect themselves from the increasingly frequent and disastrous power outages of the main electrical grid, if not to afford themselves complete self-sufficiency. Seventy years after the death of Nikola Teslaxxix and almost fifty years since the demise (in similar but even worse conditions) of Wilhelm Reich, the energies of the universe are finally being tapped for the benefit of our world.

The all-electric automobile maker, Tesla Motors, Inc., is making inroads into the U.S.A. car culture.xxx In Paris, AutoLib’ charging stations for electric car rentals are everywherexxxi – similar enterprises are getting off the ground with varying speeds around the world.xxxii

Anarchism has the advantage as regards liberty, Socialism as regards the inducement to work.  Can we not find a method of combining these two advantages?  It seems to me that we can. Bertrand Russell xxxiii

Bertrand Russell echoed a discourse that was found in Thomas Moore’s Utopia and has not disappeared since. Founded in 1986 as the Basic Income European Network, ‘BIEN’ expanded in 2004 to become the Basic Income Earth Network. The foundational belief is that an economic right that is not based on judgement of one’s ‘productivity’, nor of one’s family status, is required as part of a just solution to the social problems of developed economies. This is as opposed to the problems of the under-developed world, formerly known as the Third World, which mostly already care for their own without need for any academic justification. Ubuntu (loosely translated as ‘being human’) is an Nguni Bantu term for a way of being in community that, along with the council circle, is woven into most cultures that have maintained a connection to the Earth and the natural world. xxxiv

Oxfam International published a report to the World Economic Forum on January 20, 2014, that contained the startling statistics that 85 individuals now own more than the whole bottom half of the world’s population, and the wealth of the infamous top 1% is 65 times greater than the total wealth of the bottom half.xxxv The planet could definitely benefit from a dose of Ubuntu – as more and more people wake up to this fact, the call for a kinder, gentler world is getting louder….xxxvi

I am acquainted with three people who are bridging the realms of spirit and science in a very high-profile way, facilitating our emergence into a new awareness of the multiverse and our place in it.

In July, 2011, I attended an exceptional gathering in Montreal where Nassim Haramein xxxviipresented highlights from his ground-breaking, newly completed physics paper, ‘The Cosmological Constant and the Schwartzschild Proton’, which had far-reaching ramifications and applications in the field of free energy. The buzz was cranked up to ‘Tingle’ in a room full of the brightest lights in the Montreal alternative community – all the more so because this was Nassim’s hometown…. I had been trying to find a way to study with another luminary, Ibrahim Karim, the founder of Biogeometry – an application of ancient Egyptian science to the problems of our modern ‘wired’ environment.xxxviii Having met him previously, I’d decided that I wanted to learn more about his elegant geometric solutions to electromagnetic smog – the problem was that his website said he was only teaching in Egypt. Walking into the venue for Nassim’s talk, Dr.Karim was the first person I saw – he warmly informed me that he and his family had moved to Montreal! The third person who is making big waves these days is Mehran Tavakoli Keshe, an Iranian nuclear scientist now living in Belgiumxxxix who has established an eponymous Foundation in order to freely disseminate discoveries that involve gravity, magnetism and plasma reactors applied to create new technologies for healing, food production, free energy, space travel … and the neutralisation of toxic radiation.xl

My instincts about the Fukushima disaster have been that first, this is a challenge to those of us who believe in Oneness and non-duality. If nothing is separate from Source, how should we react to things that ‘everybody knows’ are toxic – deadly? My practise, and that which has arisen as well for many friends and acquaintances, has been to receive Life unconditionally – to hold whatever comes to us in our hearts with love. This includes the radioactive fallout of uranium and caesium from Fukushima, as well as the strontium, barium, nanoparticles and other nasties being sprayed on us, ostensibly in the name of geoengineering climate rescue missions.xli Although we are able to make choices in our lives that can lessen our exposure to these acknowledged toxins, our planet Terra/Gaia is a living organism and what flows through any part of her flows through All Our Relations. Other, more celestial influences, such as the Sun having flipped its magnetic fieldxlii, the heightened quantity and magnitude of solar storms (CMEs: coronal mass ejections)xliii and the fact that the solar system is passing through a high-frequency plasma cloudxliv are also affecting the electrically-based nervous systems of all living creatures on Earth. Information has become readily available to those who wish to support their physical bodies through these energetic tempests battering the planet.xlv

The other intuition I had was that Fukushima was going to have an important role in fast-tracking human evolution. Perhaps this will happen as we claim our ability to communicate with Water – to heal it, and therefore all Life, through focussed, loving intentionxlvi. The implications of this extend like rootlets through the entire web of Being and could be instrumental in overturning the illusion of impotence that has been hard-wired into us for who-knows-how-long.

Alfred Lambremont-Webrexlvii has stated, Fukushima will lead to a consciousness that our society cannot continue as it is and to a transformation in how humanity organizes on our planet.’ on the EcologyNews.com websitexlviii. I also felt, though, that the actual energy deployed by the explosions at the TEPCO Daichi plant could, absorbed into the body of Gaia, create an elevation in frequency that might just push us over the edge and into the long-awaited Shift into multidimensionality. As so often happens, I was afforded a couple of serendipitous confirmations of my suspicions. Asked to help with a final edit of the soon-to-be-published memoirs of Dr. Bernard Grad, the first person to scientifically examine, and therefore validate, the phenomenon of hands-on healing, an apprentice of Wilhelm Reich and another Montrealer (!), I came across a few pertinent paragraphs musing on the potential influence of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster in 1986 on the break-up of the former Soviet Union. The explosion coincided with Gorbachev’s new policies of glasnost (freedom of speech) and perestroika (rebuilding), and in 1987, Estonia became the first of the Baltic States to demand autonomy. By 1991, the U.S.S.R. had dissolved into fifteen distinct countries, the Cold War was over, and the U.S.A. left standing to dominate world politics. Perhaps we are not looking at a causal relationship, but rather a state of the orgone – the electromagnetic energy of Terra/Gaia – that resulted in all of these eruptions. One can easily see a parallel global situation at the time of the Fukushima event, but perhaps this time the U.S.A. is the empire in decline.

According to Dr. Dean Brown, Robert Oppenheimer, a fellow student of Sanskrit texts, said he was thinking of the dance of Shakti as he observing the first atomic bomb go off. What is most commonly quoted as his reaction to the detonation at Alamogordo, however, is from the Bhagavad Gita: ‘Brighter than a thousand suns, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.’ xlix

When one world ends, another is born…. It is worth remembering that every eight months, we have created an entirely new body – every one of our cells has died and been replaced. Your liver has a cycle of eight weeks. As night follows day and the seasons chase each other around the Medicine Wheel, all living systems move in cycles – in spirals. As I finish this text, we have crossed the threshold of the Chinese New Year, terminating years of deep cleansing brought by the energies of the Dragon and the Snake in Water, and beginning a cycle of empowered self-realisation carried on the back of the Wood Horse.l

Our individual lives revolve and evolve into and out of consciousness and materiality in an intricate, eternal dance of perfection and beauty.

It is in this Knowing that we may find our new Home and refuge.

Blessèd Be….

i http://thesquarefilm.com/, and for the trailer: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt2486682/

ii Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex and Politics, Miriam Simos (Starhawk), Beacon Press, 1982                                                     iii See his ‘Message to Young People’, posted on his blog on Feb.18, 2013 : http://blog.daviswade.com/, and his ‘New Year’s message, 2014’ , in The Province: http://www.theprovince.com/technology/world+dying+changing+Anthropologist+explorer+Wade+Davis+hope+future/9348268/story.html

iv http://www.veteranstoday.com/

v From Harvey Wasserman of EcoWatch: http://ecowatch.com/2014/02/02/50-reasons-fear-fukushima/

vi http://www.haarp.net/

vii http://healthmap.org/site/diseasedaily/article/madagascars-plague-outbreak-1314.

viii Military industrial complex: http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2014/01/big-money-behind-war-military-industrial-complex-20141473026736533.html

ix Exposing the Dreamworld: http://www.davidicke.com/

x Project Camelot: http://projectcamelotportal.com/

xi Project Avalon: http://projectavalon.net/lang/en/bill_ryan.html

xii Infowars: There’s a war on for your mind! http://www.infowars.com/

xiii http://benjaminfulford.net/

xiv If one were prone to believing that mass media cannot be trusted to tell the truth, one would probably assume that whatever is shown on prime-time television has been doctored with dis-information. The popular U.S. television program ‘Conspiracy Theory’ with Jesse Ventura, originally James George Janos, former Governor of the State of Minnesota, could well be a case in point http://www.trutv.com/shows/conspiracy-theory/index.html.

xv http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2013/12/131218-yellowstone-supervolcano-eruption-magma-reservoir/

xvi http://www.singularity.com/

xvii http://www.antipope.org/charlie/blog-static/2011/06/reality-check-1.html#more

xviii http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uCEPsWF59mI&feature=youtube

xix www.eceti.org

xx Also see: Peter Kling, ‘Hermeneutics expert’, author of ‘Letters to Earth: You Can Survive Armageddon’, Eloquent Books, 2009

xxi 1492 : expulsion of the Jews from Spain; 1948: the creation of the State of Israel; 1967: the 6-Day War

xxii Idle No More : http://www.yesmagazine.org/peace-justice/flash-mob-prayer-circle-shows-idle-no-more-spiritual-side

xxiii http://www.marianne.com/

xxiv http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2535698/Aliens-walk-theyre-refusing-share-technology-change-warring-polluting-ways-claims-former-Canadian-defense-minister.html

xxv Julia-Levy: http://intellihub.com/mexican-government-releases-proof-of-e-t-s-and-ancient-space-travel/

xxvi http://www.hinduwisdom.info/Vimanas.htm

xxvii http://www.acern.com.au/index.php/acern-articles/60-extraterrestrials-human-consciousness-and-dimensions-of-soul

xxviii http://bibhudev.blogspot.ca/2012/07/end-of-kali-yuga-in-2025-unraveling.html

xxix Tesla, by the way, sent the first transmission to his New York laboratory from Lake Édouard, near Sanford, Quebec, and had all of his equipment backpacked into camp from the rail terminal in Sanford by the grandfather of the long-time Wendake Huron Grand Chief, Max Gros-Louis.

xxx http://www.forbes.com/sites/markrogowsky/2013/08/24/numbers-dont-lie-tesla-is-beginning-to-put-the-hurt-on-the-competition/ It has recently been announced that 80% of the population of the contiguous states is now near a Tesla Supercharger station, and a Tesla car owner can now drive across the continent for free www.teslamotors.com/supercharger!

xxxi https://www.autolib.eu/en/

xxxii Examples: Zipcar(US only) http://www.zipcar.com/ and Car2Go (Europe and N. America)

xxxiii Roads to Freedom. Socialism, Anarchism and Syndicalism, Unwin Books, 1918, pp. 80-81

xxxiv http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/0/0c/Experience_ubuntu.ogg

xxxv http://www.oxfam.org/sites/www.oxfam.org/files/bp-working-for-few-political-capture-economic-inequality-200114-summ-en.pdf

xxxvi See:

1.The Lights in the Tunnel: Automation, Accelerating Technology and the Economy of the Future, Martin Ford, Acculant Publishing,2009

2. Promoting Income Security as a Right: Europe and North America, Guy Standing (ed.), London, Anthem Press, 2004, revised 2005

3. ‘Swiss to vote on 2,500 franc basic income for every adult’ http://www.reuters.com/article/2013/10/04/us-swiss-pay-idUSBRE9930O620131004

Reuters , Reporting by Denis Balibouse, writing by Alice Baghdjian, editing by Gareth Jones

xxxvii http://resonance.is/

xxxviii http://www.biogeometry.ca/

xxxix Dr.Keshe also has a Canadian connection, but a less-than-congenial one: http://keshefoundation.org/media-a-papers/keshe-news/124-canada.html

xl http://forum.keshefoundation.org/forum/keshe-official/30510-2014-the-year-of-the-change-for-the-humanity

xli http://tv.naturalnews.com/v.asp?v=AEF1F19C4AB1D064ECFDF66B39DFA1FA

xlii http://science.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2013/05aug_fieldflip/

xliii http://www.auroraborealispage.net/solarmax.html

xliv http://science1.nasa.gov/science-news/science-at-nasa/2009/23dec_voyager/

xlv http://beyondrawfood.com/blog/how-to-neutralize-radiation-and-chemtrails-from-the-sky-your-garden-and-your-body/

xlvi http://www.masaru-emoto.net/english/water-crystal.html


xlvii http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_Webre

xlviii http://www.ecologynews.com/

xlix http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Brv2FaOluU&feature=share


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NYC, December 2016

img_2760The baseball diamonds and golf courses freckling the landscape told us we were flying over the U.S.. As the plane descended, the Hudson River, Central Park and Lady Liberty announced our arrival in NYC.

Although the wind was biting, cyclamen, pansies, and even roses were blooming alongside the purple cabbages that decorate the streets of the Lower West Side.

I had recently narrowly escaped being in the U.S. for election day, and was not overly enthused at the prospect of spending any time at all in Trump’s new, great nation, but I was being taken to the Big Apple for my birthday, and to accompany Ron on a Broadway binge. Nine shows in seven days – yup…to me, that qualifies as a binge.

Throughout the week’s stay, every conversation more than a couple of sentences long circled to the angst of the nation. On the street, from the stage, in restaurants and in private homes, people railed against their new President, horrified… mortified. Who was responsible for this travesty of common sense?

Those who didn’t vote for Clinton as a protest, angrily denounced a Harlem community leader during the theatre/spiritual experience entitled Can I Get a Witness, “How’s that going for you now?” Members of the community came together in circle to gather their energies, to prepare their spirits for battle through song, dance and fiery oratory.* There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that afternoon that war has been declared on all people of colour in the U.S., and that unity, strength and determination were going to be required of all.

Or was it the fault of the Russians? Friends of ours insisted this to be true, over dinner at their apartment overlooking the Hudson River (“Compact? This is New York!”). They weren’t too sure how it had been done, but the CIA say it was so, it seems. So it must be true, right?

I can’t quite fathom why the President-elect is choosing to stay in the middle of this town that abhors him so much. Barricades divert vehicular and pedestrian traffic away from his black and gold Darth Vader megalith among the fluffy, sparkly storefronts of Cartier and Tiffany’s. Nothing seems to anger New Yorkers more than blocked traffic. Unless maybe its the fortune (an NYC cop said $500,000 – CNN says $1 million**) spent on protecting Trump. A college student was arrested trying to get into the Tower with a knife, handcuffs and rope while we were there.

Norman Mailer said that New York City is an island off the coast of America, and ran for mayor in 1969 with a platform of making it the 51st state. It feels like Montreal, but in English – another island where diversity is celebrated and Art matters. On the subway, people are as likely to be reading books or studying librettos and scripts as staring into screens. NYC does not at all act like the U.S.A. of Trump et al – the one that has us holding our breaths in anxiety.

Rockefeller Centre was still crammed with humans feeding on spectacle and electricity of every sort. Images were captured a million-a-minute along the row of wire and light-bulb angels joining the gigantic iconic Christmas tree and the light and music display on the img_2810facade of Saks 5th Avenue. On the more somber and elegant end of the spectrum, the Oculus Transport Hub of the new World Trade Centre raises wings of hope and inspiration beside the ponds and waterfalls marking the footprints of the fallen towers at the 9-11 Memorial.

On my birthday, as I prayed beside one of the memorial ponds, icy winds blew some of the tobacco back over my head, mixed with spray from the waterfall, and I felt that I, too was being prepared – maybe even blessed – for work to come.

Blessèd Be….

*http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/12/05/james-baldwin-onstage **http://money.cnn.com/2016/11/21/news/protecting-donald-trump/   ***https://www.911memorial.org/memorial

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About that article…

Stuck in the skies again between hither and yon, I finally have time to focus and address the “cats’ tails and eyes of newt” business.

First and most importantly, I want to thank the multitude who wrote to me: some horrified, others calming – all surprised. Your kind words helped me continue breathing deeply during the time before I was able to actually read the piece myself.

My impression is that a significant number of you did not quite make it through the meandering text to the final coup de grace, and it was largely these people who felt the article was “not so bad”.

It actually was, “that bad”, although not because it succeeded in undermining the reputation of Canada’s First Lady, who despite the journalist’s best efforts sails unscathed above the aspersions and innuendo. Nor am I concerned about my own reputation – I’m too old and cantankerous to really give a damn.

Many of you who have been to our meditations in Montreal took offence at the strange description of our heritage home – a rare, peaceful haven in the city’s boom and bustle. Feminist and pagan friends were miffed by the fear factor that was invoked against powerful women of a spiritual bent: OOOOOO! Scary witches! Almost everyone who contacted me about it commented on how simply juvenile the journalist made herself out to be, with estimates of her emotional age ranging from 12 to 15.

These days in particular, when there is so much noise being made by the media about reconciliation and the redressing of Canada’s attempted physical and cultural genocide of the First Nations, when we are smugly patting ourselves on our collective back for not being as (openly) rabidly xenophobic as our neighbours to the south – now, especially, it distresses me that the ancient wisdom traditions of the Earth can still be portrayed as frightening and primitive, and scarcely anyone even blinks an eye. To me, this is what was most upsetting and surprising about what was written in that article and the reactions shared with me. Almost no one noticed the racism, and that is eminently disturbing…. Were I a rabbi, a priest, a monk or a nun rather than a teacher of Earth-based spiritual traditions, would the same sort of treatment have been tolerable?

Mature readers of course understand that the writer was exposing her own fears and prejudices. Sharing the wannabe-author angst of many journalists, perhaps she just got carried away in metaphor and hyperbole.  It is even possible that she was trying to be funny.

Maybe our encounter was a premeditated deception, profoundly devious and cynical. She might have made up all that bit about angels. Then again, it’s possible that being open and even vulnerable was, in retrospect, an intolerable state for a person wishing to be perceived as a “serious” journalist. One that needed to be corrected, with a vengeance.

She would not be the first to confuse intellect and cynicism.

Blessèd Be….

p.s. Thanks, Slav…


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Autumn Equinox, Iona…

img_2005The morning opened – a new story, crisp and smelling of promise.

The pancakes at Staffa House B&B were not like those at home – three dainty, fluffy things served with a lovely compote of field berries and, mercifully, none of the fake syrup they suffer in these maple-deprived lands…

I shared the breakfast table with a woman from South Africa, originally from Brussels, who was happy to be able to speak French with me. When I replied to her queries, saying I didn’t really know why I had come to Iona – that I had simply been called there, she teared up. “I wish I could tell people that. If I told my husband I was called here, he’d think I was crazy! But that is the truth – I was called, too…”

Hmmm. I wonder how many of us on Iona this Autumn Equinox were pulled by an inner voice? And why…? I was relieved to not feel I had to know.

I’d booked a trip that morning to the island of Staffa, and would be dropped off later on Iona. Gillian had suggested I take the Iolaire – I was to meet the boat at about 10 a.m. down
by the jetty. Sheep scattered along the road as I exited the gate of Staffa House, and settled on the grass by the jetty parking spaces – to watch the flux and flow of odd tourists, no doubt.

Another boat arrived first – new and shiny with two young crew members, it was flooded with a multicultural wave of visitors, then ceded its place to the Iolaire. Smaller and older, she is a jewel of a boat, manned by a congenial pair of …50-somethings..? who shepherded the rest of us left on the jetty to benches around the vessel.

The skies were clear and brilliant blue, but the seas were very rough, and my fellow passengers were soon throwing up, right and left. I was grateful to be spared. One of the



people who was sick was the owner of a sweet, serious Rumanian rescue dog named Basil. I offered to take his leash when he nervously headed to lie down further inside the boat – he was worried about his mistress, but I think he was feeling queasy himself.

Davey skillfully landed us on Staffa (the other boat attempted before us but was unable), where I picked my way with the others around to Fingal’s Cave. In Victorian times, it seems that orchestras were brought into this cave to take advantage of its acoustics for the listening pleasure of elite audiences. I did a tobacco offering to this place my friend Catherine calls “the lungs of the world”, quietly singing a prayer, then making my way out to clambour to the top of the small island and look around.

What I felt most, strangely, on that seemingly isolated piece of rock and inside the Cave with its hexagonal pillars of stone, was the profound connection of all things. Honeycomb shapes were everywhere, resonant of six-sided carbon – the present basis of terrestrial life-forms. The Scottish Highlands glowed white and gold in the distance…. Staffa is made of the same formations as the Giants’ Causeway in Ireland, and a part of the oldest rock exposed on the planet, that stretches to Scotland and the Canadian Shield. The story of my mother’s people, Scots and Irish becoming Canadian, joined on Staffa and in my body….

I snapped out of my meditation, realised there was no one else around, and scampered, slipping in my bare feet on the wet mud and rock, back to the boat. I was the second-to-last back, thankfully…  The crew opened to my questions about the glowing mountain in the distance – it was Ben Nevis, they told me, in reverential tones.  Where was I intending to go on Iona? Aaaah…and do you know the way to get to St. Columba’s Beach? I was told how to recognise Columba’s Tears – the green translucent bits of serpentine that can still be found there and are said to protect from drowning. A beautiful, clear specimen was pulled out of Davey’s pocket, given me to hold in a gesture of trust that brought tears from my heart.  “Good luck”, he said, and I felt I’d been blessed.

When we were landed on Iona, I made my way dutifully toward the Abbey. After taking one turn that landed me past a small chapel and into a field, and another that brought me to a cairn commemorating the gift of Iona from the Hugh Fraser Foundation to the National Trust of Scotland, my phone/camera died, and I realised that I really didn’t want to go to the Abbey, however de rigueur it seemed. It was such a strong realisation, when I was no longer able to photograph my surroundings, that I had been doing so with a sense of  dutifully sending  images back home to our Community. I then understood that I needed to focus on the experience and allow myself to be guided from within.

I’d been looking at the Abbey from afar and a variety of vantage points – it felt to me that  it has no energy left to it. It’s as if it has been spiritually and energetically decommissioned. The women’s abbey/convent, on the other hand, still radiates the energetic calm of the Augustinian nuns (“to sing once is to pray twice” Qui cantat, bis orat ) before they fled the rampages of the Reformation.  The faint remains of a Sheela-Na-Gig are left carved on the southern wall, reminding us still of the creative power of women…of our bodies….

My body, on the other hand, was starting to cause me grief. As I began my trek across the island, a deep weariness came upon me – it was as if every joint and bone shaft were creaking and painful under some huge weight. Doubts of all kinds arose: Why was I here, anyway? Why was I feeling so awful? Am I in that bad shape? Was I even physically capable of walking to the end of the island and back?

Aha… Where were these feelings coming from? It was when I stepped back to observe the thoughts and sensations that I could actually feel them moving from my cells. The Land was calling hidden memories that began to flow, tributaries into a roaring flood.

I was walking with a multitude – waves of disheartened, powerless and terrified, chased from this land and taking their blood to a New World… * First there were monks fleeing  pillaging Vikings, then others, escaping the rage of the Reformation.

“The road will turn and you’ll come to a gate. Go through it, over the machair, and you’ll find Camus Cuil an t-Saimh – the Bay at the Back of the Ocean.” Carried by many voices, I came to the shoreline and the water that stretches unimpeded to the edge of North America. I saw Scots being herded off their land in the Clearances, Irish loaded like firewood into ships, and then they all melted into waves of uprooted humanity of every colour and culture.

I didn’t feel I could stop here long…. “Follow the fence , pass in front of a white house, then the Loch on the right, and you’ll come to a crack in the hills. Go through it to Columba’s Beach.”

I walked through time…through the Ages. All sense of Self dissolved, I saw my feet bare and bloodied, then shorn with reed sandals, then with rough leather. Each step brought more image-sensations – more strange pain. Present-time walkers of all ages, speaking a handful of different languages and obviously not enjoying the same sort of experience as I, passed me easily as the rough pathway continued by the house and the loch, then through the hills. I recognised plants along the way with joy and surprise – dandelion, plantain, lady’s mantle, celandine…old friends, reassuring me.

There is a labyrinth as well as glyphs that have been made of stones in the machair just before the second beach in Columba’s Bay. The beach itself is a wonder – I have never seen such a varied assortment of stones – each one with different colours, wildly patterned. I felt there was a stone here representing every person on the planet – each one unique and spectacularly beautiful. I chanted prayers and wept in wonder as I combed the beach and picked up a few green stones, looking for Columba’s tears….

A sudden panic came over me, and I felt I had to get back to the ferry immediately. As completely illogical as this was – I knew the last ferry wasn’t until 6:30, and by the sun I figured it couldn’t be much later than 4 p.m.- I began retracing my steps. From the beach I could see there was a shortcut up the hill which I took only to find myself sinking into wet muck. Brambles raking at my skin and clothing, I cut across to rejoin the main path and proceeded on my stumbling way. A strong wind came up, mercifully at my back, egging me onward. I was no longer alone. The wind, the land, the birds and the sea were all sustaining me.

I arrived back at the jetty just in time for the 5 p.m. ferry, and as the skies turned black and the wind began to roar. By the time the ferry docked in Fionnphort, the skies had opened and the Isle of Iona had disappeared in the storm. I hobbled along so slowly that all the passengers had swarmed past and the ferry had long since left for safe harbour by the time I made it to Staffa House, in more physical pain than I ever remember experiencing. After a hot bath, I collapsed into sleep.

Waking the next morning with only a vague aching in my hips, I wondered whether any of it had really happened….


Iona reappears….

Blessèd Be..                                                                                                                                               Dawn

  • The bus driver from Fionnphort to Craignure was a wonderful woman who expressed her horror that the same Scots whose land had been stolen and who had been victims of persecution, sailed across the ocean to do the same things to the native people of the Americas…It is so difficult for the abused to not turn to abuse… I told her the story of Prince Henry Sinclair, who sailed to Nova Scotia in 1398, was welcomed as a brother by the Mi’qma, and never betrayed their trust…But that’s another story!



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The Crumbling of the Pyramids, the Rising of Humanity

Take 4…

London Bridge is falling down                                                                                                           Falling down, falling down                                                                                                               London Bridge is falling down                                                                                                                   My fair lady

Build it up with iron bars
Iron bars, iron bars
Build it up with iron bars
My fair lady

Iron bars will bend and break
Bend and break, bend and break
Iron bars will bend and break
My fair lady

Build it up with silver and gold
Silver and gold, silver and gold
Build it up with silver and gold
My fair lady

We have been so hell-bent on isolating and caging “the monsters in our midst” – in putting them behind iron bars …getting them out our sight and consciences…. They’re not normal – not like the rest of us!  On so many levels, the current sociopolitical atmosphere in North America is a totally logical outcome of this refusal to acknowledge the power paradigm with which we have all been inculcated.  It’s all rising to the surface now in technicolour, and it seems to me it would behoove us, rather than  “Tsk, tsking” and pointing accusatory fingers, to take a few deep breaths and turn our gaze inward.

According to Darwinian evolutionary theory and studies of primate sexuality, all the fluff and flounce of romance and relationships really just boils down to the cold fact that fertile females will select the strongest, most dominant males to mate with in order to ensure that their babies are also strong, and sufficiently protected.

Buckminster Fuller, adding considerable nuance to the discourse, brilliantly described the complementary male and female energies of humanity in the same terms as we describe light – as particle and wave. Whereas the feminine principle may be understood as that of the wave in the ocean – women, born of women, born of women in an unending flow of Life – the masculine principle is symbolised by the drop of water, individual and isolated.

water wave and dropThe essential reality of the male-defined person has been that of fear of the feminine – of dissolution and ego abnegation in a sea of Oneness. The socio-cultural definition of masculinity has consequently been long entrenched in a fear-based need for dominance. Whether this manifests in physical, financial, intellectual or moral capacities is irrelevant – what is important is to have Power Over: over others… over a situation…over one’s life.

It is getting more and more difficult to live up to this definition of masculinity, however. The unforgiving hierarchies of family, school, social class, religious and financial institutions and the workplace all conspire to remind most men that they are powerless pawns who must shut up and obey. Those who have inherited power, financially, socially, or physically, are often must constantly beat down those grasping at their trouser legs to haul them from their perches. Others who have learned to put up and shut up must find SOME place in their lives where they can feel powerful – in fantasy, in having secrets, in bullying and other escalating forms of domination.

In classic patriarchal societies, whatever one’s rung on the socioeconomic ladder, a man could go home and be King of his Castle. The women who were traditionally subjects of this male dominion are now somewhat less willing to be dominated, however. Having hierarchymarched out of the kitchen, we are competing in the job market for every scrap of work once done by men alone. “Men Only” is viewed in our times as anathema, equivalent to “No Negroes or Jews Allowed”. Images of power politics –  suits with fat cigars, barely holding their liquor as they play chess with people’s lives and make lewd jokes denigrating women – have stoked our ire as we attempt to legislate our way into a just society. It is getting more and more difficult to be respected anymore simply for being in a male body; those men who are adored by women these days are often paying hard cash for the experience. When is the last time you heard the term “alpha male” being used in a positive context?

As mothers, we try to love our sons into being Good Men – not like the ones we made them with! This can backfire, though, if we don’t redefine personal power as alignment with one’s essence rather than with dominance. So often, we end up teaching our sons to get their validation and their power through women, creating the classic seductive male who “loves” (read: conquers) women and expresses anger and resentment about his insecurity as a man by exercising the power of rejection. (Seductive women are in the thrall of these same dynamics.)

Men whose core belief is in their incapacity – who have learned that people of their sex (i.e. Daddy) are irresponsible, unfaithful, useless, insensitive, violent and/or controlling – will either replicate their fathers’ models in rebellion against their mothers, or will throw themselves into the world and relationships to prove that they are the opposite of what they have learned they really are. But the programmed identity remains and will raise its head in times of stress, classically and famously sabotaging any success the fellow may have accrued through his compensatory activities. ( “I am NOT like my father!“ says the man. “Oh, YAH?!“ replies the programmed identity, `We’ll just see about that!“)

To add to this, capitalist economies and corporate hegemonies require dissatisfaction in the masses. Billboards, magazines, digital media and cultural icons convince us with varying degrees of subtlety that we never have enough, know enough, do enough or are enough, and that material consumption will fill that aching hole in the soul.  In order to be on the cutting edge in a competitive jungle, we have to continue straining for that carrot (I’ll bet it’s delicious!) dangling just beyond our reach. The wheels of western consumer society are spun by our illusions of powerlessness and inadequacy.

Although men and women with feminine energies get along famously, as do men and women who are more masculine and performance-driven, the male-defined and the female-defined glare at each other across a chasm of incomprehension, suspicion and


disrespect. Ever more youth are opting for the middle path of androgyny (Is that a boy or a girl? Does it really matter..?). Increasing numbers of sons who have grown up valuing the feminine aspects of themselves (over the traditionally masculine, often in rejection of their fathers’ examples) are happily taking care of their children while their partners are out on the economic battlefield, feeling …powerful?…self-fulfilled?…guilty?…tired? How interesting that men who have chosen this path are coming together in support groups to help counteract the negative reactions still prevalent in our society. The women in this paradigm are more likely to be exhausting themselves in their drop-of-water solitary states.

On the other hand, for those who are perhaps a little older or from more conventional backgrounds and therefore with strongly programmed, internalised socio-cultural mores, this maelstrom of masculine identity can be mortally damaging. What is a fellow to do when he has lost his sense of power, and therefore his self-assurance as a man? Violence is a much too easily and therefore frequently chosen response. Alcohol, drugs and sex (especially virtually, as in pornography, or with the young, malleable and impressionable) can also weave seductive illusions of potency – illusions that must be maintained by more of the same…and more…and more. Women who live mostly in their masculine selves and men who have developed primarily their feminine sides will both have a tendency to reject their physical bodies (controlling and altering them) along with traditional gender-based identities. Think about this for a minute! And then reflect on the increase in eating disorders in young men and women and of the panoply of auto-immune diseases now afflicting humanity, from Crohn’s disease to MS….

The symptoms in men that stem from the equation of maleness with dominance: shame and guilt, depression from anger that has nowhere to be expressed, substance abuse and other suicidal behaviour, are exactly the same as those experienced by women who are abused! The active duality paradigm here is NOT male vs female, but rather those who dominate vs those who are dominated.

Those of us who have worked with victims and perpetrators of sexual assault know that power, not sex, is the motivating force. Women are raped in war in the same way as the fields are burned and wealth pillaged. In civilian contexts, women are in danger if we can be seen as being “too uppity”. The atrocities with sexual content committed in prisons and wars – infamously in Guantanamo, Abu Ghraib, and now in Egypt by the military on incarcerated peaceful protesters – are done by men attempting to demonstrate their absolute dominance and humiliate others into submission. This is just a slight extrapolation on what has gone on forever in the private rooms of such hierarchy-enforcing training grounds as Sandhurst and West Point, not to mention the Old Boys network of educational institutions.

The internet has allowed public access to information exposing the corruption and violence upon which hierarchical institutions are founded.  The dirty secrets of governments, banks, churches, schools and the even the shadowy military-industrial complex are shared on Facebook and a plethora of alternative news networks for anyone interested in knowing more than what is freely offered by corporate media propaganda machinery. As trust in institutional authority dissolves, the power pyramids crumble at their foundations.

The Return of the Divine Feminine has become practically as much of a pop-psychology, self-help catch-phrase as the Healing of the Inner Child. Although the understanding of this energetic reality has been co-opted and manipulated by people who are still caught up in the “Power Over“ paradigm,  the awareness of the Circle of Life (first driven home through sick chickens in China and Ebola monkeys), the honouring of every sentient being as part of our Earth Family, and a deep rootedness in our bodies and emotions are all human potentials that are evolving as the feminine aspect of our Selves becomes understood and valued once again.

But what of the Divine Masculine? Our concept of God the Father got hijacked somewhere
along the line, twisted into the punitive ultimate power in a hierarchy of obedience, and our definition of masculinity followed suit. The compassionate wielding of intellect and strength, the capacity to step out into the world with integrity and dignity, aligned with one’s highest truth and the assurance that comes from knowing the value of one’s unique place in the web of Life – these are the noble qualities of the masculine energy in each one of us.

In some communities, men and women are coming together in order to pool their efforts against the tyranny of corporations and governments. Indigenous-lead movements such as Idle No More and the resistance to corporate expropriation of the Amazon Basin are perhaps closer to a potential of balance between masculine and feminine leadership because the Feminine has never been devalued in earth-based cultures. The more assimilated an aboriginal community has become, however, into a mainstream culture constructed of power hierarchies, the more dissonance occurs between men and women involved in any effort to free themselves of this same culture.

For those of us raised within cultures of male domination, women and men who wish to heal themselves must often separate in order to do so. Women, feeling unsafe in groups where men were present, not only because of ingrained historical dominance of men, but also because of the programmed competitive reaction of women to each other in a mixed-gender group, have gathered in women’s circles to share and understand the voyage we
have taken. Men, becoming aware that they do not always feel secure in healing groups with women due to their relationships with their mothers and the programmed competition among men when women are present, are also coming together in healing groups to undo the damage of power hierarchies on their self-realisation.

When we comprehend and integrate the fact that each one of us is comprised of both masculine and feminine energies, we are able to be at peace with ourselves – with the forms our bodies have taken; with both the inner, emotional ocean of the Feminine and the body, and the outwardly-oriented, active Masculine principle (the ‘drop’ of Spirit). The gold and silver currents of life-force weave and intertwine and become One. “Build it up with silver and gold!“

The creative power of manifestation that arises from the union of the two is the leaky masculine and feminine balancesecret of Tantra and what is called Sacred Marriage: the Divine Feminine and the Divine Masculine joined in equal partnership within an individual human body – Spirit, fully incarnate in Matter. This open-hearted state precludes the need and even the desire to have power over anyone or anything. Aligning with Essence…Oneness…Source, we rediscover the balanced, fluid state of unlimited potential that has been called our Christic nature, and is our true personal Power.

I believe that this is our destiny, and that this is what is rising within us as we watch much of what we have accepted as Reality dissolve before our eyes.

There is no Them and Us – there is only Us….Humanity…Life…Oneness – however we wish to perceive it , none of us is separate from any particle of the Web of Existence. Hierarchical structures that have kept us ingrained in the illusion of powerlessness are “falling down, falling down” and have been nervously reinforced with iron bars which are now “breaking and bending”. The shining gold and silver of our true masculine and feminine energies – of our clear and radiant Selves – are building  a new Humanity, now, as the old power structures crumble around us.

It is Time. Let us make it so…..





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Mommy, Misunderstood …

Reposting, with love….

First posted on July 28, 2012

Ok, people…Let’s put all the hidden weapons on the table: all the arguments with teeth, the pointed looks, the dismissing gestures – yes, the prayer books, the time-worn copy of The Secret Doctrine and the crystal wands as well… and the crucifixes and malas and everything else that you use to protect yourself when backed up against material existence.

Let’s get rid of the uncomfortably-pitched, holier-than-Thou tone of voice and the tight smiles and the bowing and scraping. Turn off the ambient trance-inducing music, take the buds out of your ears and shut off that Eckhart Tolle CD. Put out the incense and the smudge stick, stash the Ayahuasca, close up that crown chakra  and come sit here by the fire. We need to talk.

Sometimes I wonder whether I will live long enough to see us make it through this shift – to see people really GET the Divine Feminine….

We know that we need to protect the Earth –  Facebook is rife with achingly beautiful photos of this jewel of a planet invoking our love of nature and images of logging and oil-interest devastation evoking shame and incredulous rage (and eventually, hopefully, inspiring action).  The Earth aspect of the Divine Feminine is easy to wrap our minds and hearts around, right..?

But the ideals and principles that we are fighting for –what we would often say is our mission in life – are based on the opposite of what we saw and were programmed with when we were young. We struggle for justice when we have experienced injustice; we dedicate our lives to helping children because we were wounded deeply when we were kids – we push against what hurts us and make this the focus of our lives. The problem is that what was programmed into us – what we experienced between about 0 – 5 years of age – is the foundation of our belief systems. What we consider to be the ideals upon which we found our existence are therefore actually fighting against what we really believe. And so we struggle and fight and sacrifice – all those words based in opposition – but we at the same time are denying what our true beliefs are, and in the end we will sabotage our own struggle. The person who throws herself at the world to prove that she is NOT stupid, ordinary, fragile, powerless, that she will never get anywhere in life, etc. really believes on an absolute cellular level that she is all those things….If we fight for justice, it is more than likely because we truly believe that the world is an unjust place….and it is our core beliefs that create our realities, NOT our ideals. So…we will always have something to fight against…unless we can recognise and release our programming.

We’ve learned through the millennia that life in a physical body is a battle – our bodies are prisons that we must struggle to feed, clothe and protect. On top of this, we come into a body and the first thing the vast majority of us learn is that we must mould our behaviour in order to be loved by the people upon whom we are dependent for our physical survival. We learn that in order to be loved and cared for (and by corollary, therefore to survive physically), we must betray our souls – our true selves…. The soul/body split is underscored and an antipathy toward the body is instilled. At the same time, a love-hate relationship is established with Mother – one that will colour our perceptions of food, of the Earth and of our bodies, particularly if they happen to be female…..

What I am saying here is that the vast majority of us, particularly in spiritual communities, have not come anywhere near admitting, much less understanding, the extent of the distaste /distrust/disgust we really feel about those Other aspects of the Divine Feminine – motherhood, our bodies and material existence in general. Yes, we find kittens and flowers and sunsets beautiful, but they’re not quite enough to balance out the dissonant down side of physicality – old age, war, poverty, cruelty, disease….. We focus on our minds and spirits and all the different techniques we can learn and apply to get out of here as fast as possible.

“God the Father” is the absent daddy who is always a hero and can do no wrong because he is never around – Mother Earth is the ever-present and therefore non-respected mommy who has historically shouldered most of the blame and responsibility for anything that’s gone awry.  Our present state of awareness is similar to that of the person who declares “My mother was a saint”, while never, EVER wanting to be like her….. Daddy may have been a creep – but he had all the power….

Throughout my life, I have often found it wearing and even heartbreaking to be an advocate for the Feminine – for our bodies as part of the Earth, not only as repositories of our human history, but also as the one necessary tool to our ascension – and this has not only been because of being the object of so many mommy projections…. I guess that this particular rant has been a long time coming!

Here it goes:

  • Training our bodies to look great (whatever that means to us individually) and to make them do everything and anything we want them to do does notequate with loving our bodies, any more than we are really “loving” a child or an animal as long as it is obedient, or loving Nature only when it is manicured and domesticated, not wild;
  • Loving the Earth while hating Humanity is a non sequitur – we are all part of the living being that is Gaia;
  • We women are just as, if not more, misogynous as men:  we revere our intellects and dislike and abuse our bodies; we claim to crave sisterhood but so often prefer the company of men – or male-defined women; we are still buying all the negative stereotypes about our emotions, the ability to receive and the ability to simply Be without performing – all of these seen as evidence of weakness and vulnerability;
  • To the frustration/amusement of many female teachers, a male voice is almost always given more credibility and therefore more support. A woman can say something for years that will only be heard when it is said by a man. Published authors are routinely favoured for promotion over anyone working in the oral and experiential traditions.
  • Most of us are like tourists in our bodies – and we consider it an extreme adventure to even do a day-trip into our hearts. The belly – well – that’s like walking into a war zone. That is where we have stored all the toxic waste of our lives – the sludge of shame and self-hatred that surrounds and eventually suffocates the creative life force that also lives there…. Any activity that pulls us into our bellies – sex, pregnancy and birth, belly-dancing – will end up emotionally far messier than we often imagine

Our work to rediscover the Divine Feminine (she hasn’t gone anywhere, by the way, and exists quite independently of our ability or inability to perceive her) must involve some potentially less-than-pleasant forays into our bodies, to unpack from our cells the mouldering ancestral beliefs about physical reality and our place within it…. In encountering and witnessing these beliefs, we can release them bit by bit and so liberate both our bodies and our ancestors of the limitations of duality… We will finally be able to exercise our true free will to create the future we desire….

We are in the process of birthing a New Human. It’s a normal birth, with the head presenting first….but the body must follow….!  To become fully incarnate, body and soul uniting the duality of Heaven and Earth/ Spirit and Matter, is, I believe, our destiny…and our responsibility.

Stay with me a bit, here by the fire….With feet rooted in the earth, imaginations stretching into the multiverse, hearts connected by our common humanity…our common destiny…Can you not feel it in your bones and flesh, how wonderful it is – what an honour it is – to be in this body, here and now? As gratitude fills your heart and spreads to warm your Being, the Goddess rises within you….

Blessèd Be!

Blessings and Love,


For support with living in your body, you can go to:

https://dawnbramadat.wordpress.com/visualizations/    (in English and French)


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Heeding the Call…

I have had no idea why I was called here -I just knew I was to be on the island of Iona tomorrow for the Autumn Equinox. It still barely feels real, but I have felt the energies rising for a few days now .The full moon and eclipse were surely a part of this, but in the past couple of days in particular I’ve felt my sensitivity becoming more acute. Marissa and Alfredo took me up to Arthur’s Seat in Edinburgh the evening before last – I could clearly feel the energies of the ancient forts and their communities.

This morning, my head began throbbing with violent images before I found out we were passing through Glen Coe, also called The Glen of Weeping for the infamous massacre that occurred there. (http://www.bayviewkentallen.co.uk/glencoemassacre.html)

Magnificently ominous clouds accompanied the ferry ride from Oban to Mull, holding on to their downpour until after the hour-ish bus trip that deposited us at the jetty in Fionnphort. Travellers from around the planet gathered in the tiny tea shop that serves as  waiting room for anyone catching the ferry to Iona. I waited there a while until I could check into my B&B, then walked through the wind and rain to the welcoming care of Gillian at Staffa House. (http://www.staffahouse.co.uk/)

The warm tea and the rain drumming on the conservatory roof made me drowsy – I drifted off to sleep as soon as I lay down  in my room. Golden light filled the windows when I awoke. With a whoop of joy I ran to open the window and was startled by a glorious double rainbow, arcing crisply around the village.

Tomorrow is the Autumn Equinox, and I sail to Iona….

Blessèd Be….

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Freshford, Ireland                                                                                                                                               September, 2016

“You are from Canada? Oh! Canada is good. Canada helps Kurdish people. One movie star from Canada left her home and family and went to live with the Kurdish people and help them.”  The man behind the counter was effusive and sincere, touching and embarrassing us.

The Brennan Sisters restaurant  was not the fish and chips joint we had expected. Kebabs, fullsizerender_5pizza, and burgers as well as fish and chips were prepared and served for take-out by three bright, shiny fellows who seemed as delighted at the incongruity of brown faces in the village of  Freshford, Ireland, as we were.  It was the only place in town that served food and 14 kilometers felt too far to drive into Kilkenny in the rain and dark of our first night in the area. The three of us were squished into what had been advertised as a “Family Suite” when I booked our B&B on-line –  not really the kind of space one wanted to sit around and eat a meal in.

So we sat at the only table in the only restaurant in the town where my great-great grandmother had once lived, eating gargantuan portions of spicy vegetables and meat wrapped in fluffy pita bread. Maria Leary, née Sneyd, glares out of her portrait on my mother’s bedroom wall in rural Manitoba. I doubt that as a lass in Freshford at the turn of the 19th century, she could have imagined such a gathering of foreign people eating strange food right by the village green – much less that some of them would be her descendants, coming to look for traces of her life there.
fullsizerender_6After we finished what we could of our meals, we crossed the road to peek into the cemetery of St.Lachtain’s Church. The wrought-iron gate to the Remembrance Park creaked as a cemetery gate should, but on the information board through the other, more often-used entrance, we found no trace of the names we were looking for. My mother says she had been prepared for this, but still….

The wind had begun to pick up and it was quickly getting colder and darker. We crossed the green to the car and drove around a bit, past the newer, bigger Catholic church, out of town a ways and then back.

It was still too early for bed – we’d be awake in the middle of the night if we went to sleep right away – so although we were exhausted and jet-lagged, we picked one of the fullsizerender_4three pubs within spitting distance – the one with the white swans hovering in all the second-story windows –  and went in for a pint.

My daughter and mother settled in with their Guinness, and I with a shot of Jameson. In the dark-oaked, musty coziness of the pub, a couple of lads playing darts along the far end, and local accents hugging segments of an American movie radiating from the TV on the wall amid bottles of spirits and statues of hurling champions, I felt I had really arrived in Ireland….

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The Money, Not My Life

I got a speeding ticket today, and came away feeling…relieved.

Yes, this was partly due to the tactic of threatening the “perp” with extremely dire consequences and then mitigating them (“I’ll see what I can do”) so no reaction other than abject gratitude is seemly.

The officer – maybe 40 years old, very clean and correct (think Due South) – approached the car after pulling a Uey and flagging me down, with “Bonjour, Madame?” in that way we get used to when we are tagged as immigrants – probably non-French-speaking.

But he called me Madame – not like those two policemen near Thunder Bay who stopped me just because a woman of my colour was not supposed to be driving the white Caddy that my friend had leant me when my car broke down driving to Winnipeg. They leered, defiling my name with their tone of voice… Whose car is this, Dawn? (Not, “Are you the registered owner of this vehicle?”) Aha…your friend’s, eh? Are these all your children, Dawn? This was probably the first time my children experienced racists in authority. It was scary.

He was nothing like the two police who slowed down and cruised beside me as I walked down a deserted suburban street in Montreal, rolling down their window and asking me whether I wanted a lift – in heavily-accented English, dripping with sleaze. I muttered a quick “No” and felt lucky when they eventually sped off after driving beside me for a block that felt like forever.

Then there was the policeman in Lac-Megantic, who stopped me to ask where I was from, what I was doing there, how long I had been living in the area, and was I married – all while leaning in an oh-so-friendly way on my opened window with his elbows.

It’s true, I’m no longer young and sexy, and have lost the vulnerability that this implies. Old-and-most-likely-ornery gets treated with quite a bit more respect, I am finding. While today’s officer seemed a bit startled, maybe confused, by me (She looks East Indian but she has a feather where the car deodorizer or fuzzy dice or multi-armed god statue should be, there’s a husky in the car and she speaks quebecois ), he was at least polite, and not condescending. “I understand. These things happen, Madame.” Well…I don’t think he was being condescending….

As he was doing the background check, the only thing I was concerned about was how much it was going to cost. None of the rest of this occurred to me until I drove away. What a luxury, to only be worried about the money, and not my life….

Blessed Be….

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