The Cleverest Conspiracy Of All


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.

Please Be Patient

Often, after a few breakthroughs in that bumpy and mysterious ride on the illusion-busting journey to more knowledge and less faith and doubt, we indulge ourselves in spells of excitement, and that excitement not only powers the desire for more but also rides rough shod over the calm receptivity that gives the transcendence a place to settle and show you its wonders.  This excitement, this agitation of the astral body, has a similar clouding effect as does the grieving when a loved one departs.

     The latter is perhaps more common in my experience, perhaps due to the pleasure that accompanies the excitement as opposed to the isolating pain that grieving brings with it.  Although there is no reliable method to short circuiting the grieving period, it has to be lived through one way or another so that the purging of dark, low energies can be done and a modicum of psychological stability established.  I think this is generally recognized in the new age community and society in general, and certainly there are plenty of spirit communications which state quite plainly the difficulties of ‘getting through’ the grief and guilt of friends and family members, a frustration which usually leads to guides advising patience to the newly joyful.

     Well it is much the same with excitement here on earth.  Profound meditations, after maybe many ‘calm but dry’ months, the sudden appearance of lucidity in dreams, an unmistakable voice in the head, a brief vision of the departed smiling and perhaps waving, the hands of helpers tugging at one‘s shoulders, birds known to be messengers staring at you eyeball to eyeball, the plumbing or electrical systems suddenly malfunctioning for five or ten minutes;  all can manufacture those giddy bubbles of excitement that can blur the land beyond as effectively as grief.

     And here is where I advise patience, refraining from beating yourself up for lack of progress, keeping both feet on the ground as your heard swirls in the clouds and laughing at the crazy circus of it all.  Yes, spirit contact, in any of the packages it presents itself, is a thrill beyond the unconscious boundaries of self-limitation, but it is not an end in itself.  It takes you to another stage in the unfoldment, a stage once absorbed and digested, can lead, bite by bite, to the full meal of past and future lives, the energy planes beyond the heavens and paradises where most of the ‘dead’ live and have their being, the distinct possibility of extraterrestrial contact, not to mention the fuller abilities of navigating the astral and mental bodies through the landscapes of eternity.

     Easy going patience, in that realm of that detached observer, is as beneficial to the unfolding of the inner journey as any daily practice.  Spying on the subtle shifts of mood and thought as the moments unwind can often reveal the energy processors in action that we are.  As we unlock, one by one, the many doors that seem to be keeping us from multidimensionality, groaning as we see another just down the way, let us not forget the bemusement and chuckles that our stumbling about can produce.  Enjoy the clown as she switches the masks from happy to sad and back again.  She’s not the star of the circus but she often likes to think she is.