The Cleverest Conspiracy Of All

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We live in an age of conspiracies and rumours of conspiracies.  Even those who mock and deny their existence feel the need to talk about them in a disparaging manner.  Governments, corporations and intelligence services all thrive on their production, implementation and cover-up.  Educated populations, now mostly freed from the threats of eternal damnation, loosened with ever increasing leisure, and armoured as never before with access to information, demand ever more sophisticated cover-ups and plausible denials delivered with assurance and aplomb.  Children with considerably more than spare change, we now require sophistry on the level of myth, complete with the the panoply of dramatis personae we have come to expect down through the storytelling ages.

Some ancient battle between darkness and light, truth and deception, seems to be continuously reenacted on the world stage.  It is a drama of operatic dimensions that could easily grow a religion or two about it.  Who will save us from the lying demagogues of democracy, the chorus asks.  Who shall deliver us from the seductive pit of propaganda?  The answer is perhaps obvious: us.  Us and only us.  We the people, who are so much more than concerned citizens, but who have forgotten their divine origins and are dwarfed by those who would manipulate our ignorance into endless dependence.  We need not wait for all the Pinocchios to grow long noses.

All the political shenanigans, all the crafted assassinations, all the bombings with their stage managed radicals, all the wars over natural resources spin doctored into evil dragon slaying, all the drugs so carefully designed, all the spiritual wickedness in high places, it’s merely the play of Maya, illusions prancing their hour upon the stage.  It need not detain us, although it can and does, our fascination with baubles and blood being what it is.  But for those of us on our way to graduation, a not insignificant number I might add, the cleverest conspiracy of all is that of the Higher Self.

The Higher Self conspires, unfortunately with our full cooperation, to denude us of all cosmic consciousness, so that our delivery onto the physical plane through the medium of our mother’s womb is accomplished with such a narrowing of the psyche that the phrase blank slate is the most accurate for our tiny embodiment of life.  So although we are emanations from a virtually omniscient Monad (group soul, Higher Self), by the time we descend through the planes to arrive here almost emptied of our previous divinity, and proceed, through many trials and tribulations, to recover our heritage shorn of the illusions of ego and society, we are essentially starting out once again from the basement of consciousness to explore not only the house above but the many mansions which it magically contains.

And we essay these explorations as dim witted but boisterous children, eager for adventure but easily cowed by frights and cuts.  As personalities we grow with our family and society imposed definitions, all of which are useful within the parameters laid out before us, becoming independent and educated adults.  But as spirits in the material world these definitions become ties which keep us in bondage, too timid to explore the unknown and unseen.  And when, out of frustration or giddiness, we do reach out a seeking beam, they remind us to doubt and distrust, to return to the basement where being rendered stupid with safety is the community standard.

In our ignorance as state sanctioned citizens with rights and responsibilities we often remain, assured that we are contributing in an accountable and civilized manner.  But as citizens thus defined we remain ignorant of our greater selves, our original share of divinity, and we quietly assume our tiny spots in history, the subject of forces beyond our control, when in fact we have picked a life path of challenges suited to our needs, and only appear to be buffeted by the fates of disease, lousy weather and political repression.  Whether we have chosen wisely or been rushed by the prospect of thrills is another matter, but the metaphysical fact is that we have picked and are partaking.

But our ego based illusions about our limited and isolated selves conspire to keep us in our place, while attributes such as gravity and debt assure us we have made the smart choice.  Inside our separated selves, our much valued individuality, we look to sources of power outside us.  Whether natural, as in earthquakes or floods, or man made, such as banking or government, we feel dominated, threatened, conspired against, that there is a hidden order which executes plans in the shadows, regardless of our requirements or well being.  There are hidden orders conspiring contemptuously in the shadows, but they operate at the level of ego and ego gratification, and as such, live in even more illusion than yourself, the seeker and would-be disciple of the mysteries.

The cleverest and most cunning conspiracy of them all is the one you delude yourself with, that we all delude ourselves with: that no matter what your station in life, your race or gender, your degree of freedom or repression, you are in essence an unbounded being of light, a conscious contributing emblem of divinity, who is only pretending to be daft and lost and limited.

Looking Back From The End Of Time

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In the nineties, when I discovered his work, Terence McKenna quickly become a favourite.  His penetration and exploration of altered states, and the seemingly infinite realms they revealed, immediately struck me as cutting edge: a consciousness researcher almost without parallel.  McKenna’s cultural influence steadily increased throughout the remainder of that incarnation, and when he left us for points unknown, but perhaps predictable given the arc of his rainbow, his  post-technological shamanism had shifted the goalposts of many a follower.

His notion of December 21, 2012 being the end of history as we know it, based on the end of the Mayan calendar, was never a comfort zone for me.  Firstly I am temprementally opposed to prophecy of any sort, as it is usually way off base, if not completely wrong.  Stages in mankind’s evolution can be mapped and discussed intelligently, and have been as long as philosophers and secret societies were summoned onto the world stage by the inchoate longings of incarnate souls, but as the spectrum of courage and curiosity amongst men is wide, to say the least, leaps forward by the masses cannot be predicted.  That we evolve into greater degrees of complexity, creativity and expression is obvious, but our progress is so haphazard and choked with potholes guaranteed to impose injury and restriction, grand predictions such as Mckenna’s are, in my mind, not much use.

History does end, effectively, every time we cross from this world of time and sequential events into the realms of spirit.  Once there we reside in paradises and heavens where we re-adapt to the slowly unfolding freedoms of eternity.  Initially, of course, we imitate the patterns and practices of Earth life, where one foot follows the other in relationship and activity and we live by orderly sequence, but eventually, and that ‘eventually’ is tailored to each individual’s needs, we grow into that consciousness without boundaries, of body or mind, so that we become limitless beings in the universal mind, aware of all life processes and possibilities weaving both backwards and forwards in time, the time of sequential history that we left upon death.

These sojourns outside time, in the Elysian Fields/Radiant Void/Ground Of All Being/The Godhead, are largely forgotten when we return ‘here’ for another round of effort, ambition, suffering and joy, but can, as you all know, be accessed in periods of meditation, retreat and prayer.  Our Higher Self/Monad seems to be something of a permanent resident of that infinite light, waiting patiently for each one of us to return with a fresh bag of goodies to be shared.

After whatever is, or becomes, our last Earth incarnation, there is the completed man, the graduate, who can gaze reflectively over the landscape of his journey, seeing the struggles and pitfalls, some of which may have stretched for centuries, as part of the act he put on to participate in the theatre of tragedy and comedy all us induced-ignorance actors agree to.

I often feel that completed man gazing at me, backwards through time, sympathetically and lovingly, as I suffer the various tribulations we all are heir to.  Today it’s allergy induced hives, next week it could be something else.  But as I feel his gaze I can enter not only his game playing triumph but his seemingly infinite understanding and love.  I can see that he and I are one and the same, as are you and I.

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