An ancestral remembrance of the witch burnings and persecution of heretics, healers and medicine people by fire and a culture antithetical to life…..
Vocals recorded at Church of Storms, Lizard & at Zennor, West Penwith
(Tho I Burn) Fire, Be My Ally
Prayer
I found fresh tracks today
and felt the shy beautiful eyes
of their maker, watching
as I made offerings
to the water spirits
beneath the old oak
by the brook
who sang
of fresh snow
that had fallen
far above
in the shimmering
silence of the night
top image : Warlock by Neil Burnell
Dakota 38
A powerful film.
Healing and reconciliation.
Much humanity.
In the spring of 2005, Jim Miller, a Native spiritual leader and Vietnam veteran, found himself in a dream riding on horseback across the great plains of South Dakota. Just before he awoke, he arrived at a riverbank in Minnesota and saw 38 of his Dakota ancestors hanged. At the time, Jim knew nothing of the largest mass execution in United States history, ordered by Abraham Lincoln on December 26, 1862. “When you have dreams, you know when they come from the creator… As any recovered alcoholic, I made believe that I didn’t get it. I tried to put it out of my mind, yet it’s one of those dreams that bothers you night and day.”
(Now), four years later, embracing the message of the dream, Jim and a group of riders retrace the 330-mile route of his dream on horseback from Lower Brule, South Dakota to Mankato, Minnesota to arrive at the hanging site on the anniversary of the execution. “We can’t blame the wasichus anymore. We’re doing it to ourselves. We’re selling drugs. We’re killing our own people. That’s what this ride is about, is healing.” This is the story of their journey- the blizzards they endure, the Native and Non-Native communities that house and feed them along the way, and the dark history they are beginning to wipe away.
Talking Land Spirits……
Gordon White has the most fascinating of guests and holds one of the most eclectic of spaces to be found in the realms of podcasting, and this show is no exception – as he says in the preamble and show notes :
“This week we welcome back to the show one of the most popular returning guests, Jenx. As you might expect, he’s back in your ears talking us through Thai Occultism, to coincide with his recently released tour de force, The Thai Occult. Along the way, we cover land spirits, uses for specific ghosts, the universality of candle magic and the many nuances of love charms.”
Lee Maracle ~ Violence Against Women & The Earth
Lee Maracle is a member of the Stó:lo Nation of British Columbia; a celebrated author, poet, storyteller, speaker and educator she here talks of the direct connection between violence against the earth and violence against women: a grandaughter of Chief Dan George and descendant of Mary Agnes Joe Capilano, known as the Princess of Peace of Capilano Reserve, Lee Maracle carries an ancestral torch of grounded and centred wisdom, humour and understanding.
Malidoma Somé: The Ancestors’ Gift of Healing
Dagara elder Malidoma Somé speaks of the essential nature within the living relationship between ancestry and ourselves. He reminds us that at the core of this relationship a potential of mutual benefit is waiting to be realised and that through engaging with the Ancestors our own capacity as healers and givers of our own unique gifts can become radically grounded within community.
Fragments Blown Through Death’s Door
…….stepping into the light Matais sniffed the air. He squinted as the late autumn sun sent arrows of light glancing from behind the darkening trees. The ‘copter carrying the chief to the hospital in the Bay had long disappeared behind the treeline, leaving a natural quiet to settle on the land. Matais felt his body relax. The valley around him was filling with shadows, the dark time would soon be with them. He closed his eyes and listened. Distant crows were calling, deepening his sense of familiarity with this place. An image rose up in his mind of the valley around him at Frozen River. It was as if he was seeing with his eyes open, only, in his vision this was the Frozen River that had belonged to his ancestors, long before the Europeans came – where the small cluster of buildings now stood he saw a wide sweeping valley with the river meandering through its center, dense conifer forests covering the gentley sloping hills to either side. Everything shone with an untarnished beauty.
Matais felt re-assured by the vision and the crow’s calls. Their ragged edged commentaries cut through to the heart of the moment, reminding him of how it had once been. His ancestor’s memories were interwoven with the natural law of this place. He knew that the land was still strong, that its wild spirit would once again rise and reclaim Frozen River. At least, with a little help from certain quarters, that might yet become a reality. But, there was something else, something at odds with this deeper sense and, as he looked more deeply, Matais also began to feel a subtle change in the air. Signs were that a shift had already begun and Matais knew he was not the only one who had noticed the change in the wind.
The old man had been right…….
…….standing outside his cabin deep in the foothills to the north Shadow Crow let the light of the setting sun filter through his half closed eyelids and stilled his mind. In his left hand a small twist of Juniper sent a thin wisp of smoke skywards, slowly dissolving into the air as it spiralled above the old man’s head.
Although to his mind the change in atmosphere was becoming tangible, he was waiting for a sign. At that moment a pair of forest Ravens sent a rasping wooden cry out as they sailed over the cabin and disappeared into the tree canopy. Shadow Crow felt a ripple run down his spine and turned to look down the track. He would be expecting visitors, and very soon……
Matais went straight to the old man, but, when he got there he found someone else waiting for him……an unexpected ‘face from the past’.
It was always an understanding that death could be just as much of an ally as an enemy to the living, but, in the indigenous way, a person would use the path of the latter to gain an understanding of the former. The understanding that arose from this was that, when death finally came to tap you on the shoulder, not only would you be prepared for the encounter, but, would have the sum total of one’s life force bound up like a coiled spring waiting for this moment to release itself in a magnificent manner appropriate to the full power and mystery that is the human spirit. It was the moment of ones Last Dance in this life, the dance in which that spring, which contained all the life experiences, and the energies gained from them that had strengthened ones life, would unwind with austere and dignified power and beauty. Death would have no choice but to wait and watch, this would be the agreement, and it contained an unspoken but mutual respect.
Crow had seen many go into the stillness, but, not all had been able to let the energy of their accumulated time here spin their spirit in the spiral of life’s Last Dance. Some, far too many in recent times, had been cruelly snatched from life, hooked by the barbed intent of fate, and by the violence of others. But, now, something else was stalking the living, unseen and predatory, its calling card a kind of madness, a cancer of the mind and spirit. Maybe it had been there all along, for those who had eyes and ears for it, but, the forest was dying and, unseen, a subtle presence was stalking life throughout the land. It had already begun.
Crow knew that the bodies that had recently been found out in the freezing snow were testimony to the increasing presence of this new threat in their midst. But, this was not simply a matter of death. Even though both Matias and Shadow Crow knew the bodies had belonged to Qoys, they were outsiders to the community. But, it takes a Qoy to know a Qoy and it was the fact that they were all Qoys that proved the point. Qoys almost always came back alive, that was their medicine. No, there was another power besides death at work here, one with an unexpected sense of purpose, and timing.
It was Crow’s way to see that the dead were honoured and he had unerringly made prayers for those of his friends who had met with violent ends. But, the Qoys made this a complex matter. The mystery surrounding these new mortalities required much deeper vigilance. He knew they would need all the help they could get in their journey beyond.
For many years Crow had followed the old understanding in relation to those who suffered violent and unexpected ends – for those whose life was taken unexpectedly or suddenly the last dance would take place beyond the boundaries between this world and the next, within the borderlands of the ancestral realms, and, unless the dancer was endowed with a rare and special quality, the question of how to approach death would include no options beyond that moment. There was no return once that place had been reached.
Yet, there was one thing that humans could garner in life that would make the difference. While the impetus of the journey in such cases would be against the dancer and only a magnificent dance might produce a temporary reversal of time’s flow, an opportunistic un-weaving of the thread with which all things were bound to each other could in fact release the dancer into that most sacred of capacities, choice. Few now knew how such opportunism was fostered ~ nevertheless, such had not been lost on Crow.
Choice.
Old Shadow Crow knew how much had been lost of just what that simple looking word truly signified. In keeping with the balances and protocols that surrounded so many natural powers, choice hid its own true nature. As a power that was waiting to be claimed it was less a matter of reason, intelligence and decision, than of spirit, whether or not it was claimed. That special quality of spirit was naturally endowed in some, and became the life’s pursuit of others. In the ‘naturals’ it could also develop, evolve and grow and, if it was allowed or encouraged to do so, could eventually take the form of ‘complete independance of spirit’. Those in whom it was naturally endowed in this way were known as Qoyanisqat, ‘backward walkers’, or ‘Qoys’ for short. They were always life’s artists and natural dancers, but, when their power of choice was fully developed, it gave them the upper hand against death itself……while, by virtue of their dual nature all humans enjoyed excercising something akin to ‘choice’ the Qoys could survive the journey beyond the boundaries of their lives, return intact, and at the very pinnacle of their powers, take their body with them. Their inner split became their gift, the ultimate choice.
Shadow Crow was one of those few who had been, since very early in life, in the almost constant presence of Qoys within his community, mostly by virtue of the fact that he was born into a family of them. He himself was anomalous amongst them – although he was a natural Qoy he had aquired the powers of another line, the Skin Walkers, as they were known. It was a term that had given rise to much superstition and misunderstanding.
The Qoys and the Skin Walkers. There was a connection between these two medicines, a common ground of spiritual mutability. The differences however gave an unusual edge to the relationship between the two paths. While the Qoys had seemingly been given the power to slip in and out of life, to even cheat death, the Skin Walkers were in no way tied to the body they were born with. Qoys were the indigenous quantum magicians of the human world, known for their ability to appear in two places at the same time, bi-location, or to not be seen at all. By contrast, the Skin Walkers could shift shape and appear as something, or someone, other. This was an expression of their relationship with the powers and beings of the natural world that, while it gave them great freedom, was an ability which brought with it much misunderstanding and mistrust. Nevertheless, in both lines there was a mutual bond that was based upon a simple truth – they both had something the other could make great use of, or desired, depending on one’s prediliction for power.
If born into either of these paths that individual’s life could be spent in pursuit of the knowledge and abilities of the other ~ it was a path that could bring complete freedom, but, it also carried great risks. This was a recognised choice for the naturally endowed of both medicine paths, one that might well benefit the support of a mentor who had themselves made that choice and followed that path, and Shadow Crow had mentored many, with good reason.
For many amongst those who made such a choice, either way and no matter what their natural bent, this meant a life in pursuit of the Qoy’s ‘independence of spirit’. For this reason Qoy’s were both predated upon and, when the medicine was turned around, could take on the appearance, at least to the innocent living, of the predator. But, appearances can be deceptive – there was much more to it than that……
For naturally endowed Skin Walkers the choice was felt, curiously, to be less urgent and many natural Skin Walkers simply lived life as any other person might, especially in these times. And yet, while appearing curiously confident in themselves to the outside, they would also feel strangely detached from themselves inwardly. It was this sense of detachment that the Qoys most sought to develop within themselves, but, for them the difference was that they would do so with full consciousness. One who dedicated their life in such a manner lived a kind of paradox – they were both fully awake to their abilities and yet also completely independent of them. They had choice, and this was the kind of choice that made all the difference, both when death came a-knocking and in the time they were alotted while alive. Great things could be done with such a choice and, given such empowerment, a person not only became endowed with power that set them apart from the rest, they could put those powers to work within and for the community – such people became known as ‘warriors of spirit’, medicine people of high repute.
This had been Shadow Crow’s crowning achievement and, with it, while outwardly keeping himself quietly to himself within the larger community, inwardly he had dedicated his life to the well-being of the entire community at Frozen River and beyond. He was the finest exemplar of the heights capable in one who combined the medicines of both the Skin Walker and the Qoyanisqat in one lifetime’s journey.
There was only one path that gave as great a power, that of the natural Skin Walker who aquired the powers of the Qoy. In this path there were no guarantees, and the path could just as easily lead a person in the opposite direction, towards all-out self interest and, in some cases a dangerous hunger for power. Such was the path chosen by Shadow Crow’s visitor.
His name – Roy Silver Tree.
What marked Silver Tree’s attitude to the path he had chosen was the strength of his sense of detachment from the medicine itself. Not only was he not in the least interested in other’s views about him or how he used his powers, but, he appeared to act with complete impunity. What made him dangerous however, at least to outward appearances in the eyes of many, was an apparent indifference to those powers themselves. To the untrained and unfamiliar eye there was something all too throw-away about it all that had made him appear arrogant and lacking in moral or ethical awareness – he just didn’t seem to care, but, this could not have been farther from the truth.
Truth was, Roy had become the victim of other peoples ignorance and fears, which had stigmatised his existance since the death of Charlotte Rivers. For nearly half a century her mysterious death had been treated as murder and, even though the case had remained unsolved, Roy was the prime suspect, at least in the eyes of the feds. Charlotte Rivers had been a warrior of spirit, but Roy knew all too well how his innocence in relation to her death was now buried beneath layers of prejudice and bias that had come with the outright suspicion that both he and his sister Mojique were the guilty parties. They had been forced into hiding, being the perfect suspects, mainly because they knew that they had no way of proving their innocence, but, also because they knew that standing ground and proclaiming innocence afforded them no protection, especially in the face of federal law.
Shadow Crow knew this too and had discussed it with Matais only recently, shortly before the chief’s visit infact, which made Matais trust Shadow Crow’s intuition in handling the cop deepen. But, then, Shadow Crow apparently also knew who the killer was, and this crucial fact he was keeping to himself.
After so many years out on a limb, Roy knew that with this new round of Qoy bodies turning up and this new cop on the block, ‘the chief’, subsequently beginning to poke his nose into the unsettled business of the past, he had to set the records straight. He had to see Shadow Crow, if nothing else to try and find out who had infact killed Charlotte Rivers and where old Crow stood on all this, for, even after all this time, both Roy and Mojique were just as much in the dark as virtually everyone else and that, perhaps more than any other thing, made them all the more vulnerable. Only through a meeting with him would Roy Silver Tree be able to get Shadow Crow’s help and, hopefully, clear up this matter once and for all. More than that, he had to take precautions as he was anticipating the chief being dangerous, beyond the scope of his ‘official’ investigations, and Roy and his sister already had it hard enough. So, it came as something of a surprise to him to find out that the chief had been flown out to the hospital in the bay only the day before, after a suspected heart attack – “yeah, right” he’d thought to himself when he’d heard the news. As if an unseen hand were at work, miraculously and perhaps for Roy very luckily, their paths had swapped locations simultaneously. Strange how these things happened…..
When Matais found Silver Tree sitting in the exact same seat that the chief had occupied just 48 hours earlier, seemingly perfectly at home with Shadow Crow, it was as though a ghost had materialised…..and, for all the years that Roy and his sister had kept themselves off radar, it might just as well have been true.
Silver Tree was not what Matais had expected either. To look at him you would never have guessed his years – he was tall, lithe and surprisingly muscular. Also, unlike Shadow Crow, who had a full head of fine long grey hair pulled back into a tight braid, Roy’s hair was thick, cropped and peppery, neatly framing a deeply creased but remarkably smooth skinned and tanned hawk-like face in which two jet black eyes sparkled with obsidian intensity. He looked strangely alien. And, you instantly knew that nothing would escape that gaze. Roys voice however was a complete surprise – his quiet spoken delivery was softened even further by a slight rasp, giving him a rangy drawling quality that helped obscure a dangerously savvy intellect. Matais was instantly intrigued.
Shadow Crow made the introductions and, as was his custom in Crow’s house, Matais offered to make fresh coffee while the two old timers continued their conversation. Matais liked to look out for the old Crow, but, these two obviously had found a common understanding and seemed to be comfortable with each others company, which made Matais suspect that important matters had already been covered, and he had an idea of what they might be. More than anything else in that initial moment Matais simply needed to cover his genuine surprise at Silver Tree’s sudden appearance. When he returned with the coffee he was curious to know just what had motivated Silver Tree to come out of hiding. He knew better than to ask him straight out, but, he didn’t need to; Shadow Crow came straight to the point.
“Roy has decided to break cover, at least amongst those he feels he can trust.”
Shadow Crow let the words sink in; whether it was true or not, the implication was that he had always been a party to Silver Tree’s hiding, made it sound like an acknowledged tactic, a complicity, and this was compounded with ‘those he feels he can trust’, meaning……
Silver Tree cut across Matais thoughts:
“…..and I’ve known you both, at least from a distance, for many years, so, I’m counting you in Matais….providing you want in?”
Matais looked from one man to the other – it sounded like a challenge. Both Shadow Crow and Silver Tree held his gaze implaccably. Matais took this as a confirmation of an agreement already reached between the two. There was no reason to say ‘no’. After a couple of seconds, pausing to take in the faces of the two old timers, he gave a nod – both Shadow Crow and Silver Tree breathed out with a smile.
“Huh! Your a cool customer eh Matais?” Silver Tree exclaimed sitting up and looking Matais over as if he had just been out played by him. He slapped his thighs with both hands and stood up in one swift movement – Matais leaned away involuntarily; this man was agile, confident and not to be messed with, and, as his comment hinted, he knew very well how to get the upper hand…but, Silver Tree looked with kindness at Matais and nodded….
“….yip, you sure are…..”
…….and this time Matais felt that Silver Tree meant it, in fact, he was paying him a compliment.
“Crow’s been telling me about your dealings with the cops, and the Qoys…..” Roy said, moving over to the hearth. He had emphasised the last three words.
Shadow Crow was watching them both, his head slightly cocked to one side, only his eyes moving as he followed the exchange that Roy was building with Matais. Even without looking at his old friend Matais could tell that Shadow Crow respected this man.
“Well, if the Qoys I’ve known were anything to go by your never going get the jump on them by trying to figure ’em out – ya’gotta follow your own medicine and trust, ain’t that right Matais?”
It could have sounded patronising, as well as another veiled challenge, and the irony of Roy’s question was not lost on Matais. The thought crossed his mind that Silver Tree was trying to demonstrate that he had the initiative and was fishing for just how much Matais knew – Matais knew these kind of tactics well and also knew when someone was using them in trying to conceal a disadvantage of their own. Had it not been for the pressure Matais felt coming from the beady eye of the old Crow he might not have answered….
“What else is there?”
“Heh, heh – true, true…..” Silver Tree said as he fed a split log to the fire,
“…..unless you don’t know what your own medicine is…..”
Now Matais knew what Silver Tree was driving at. The cop.
“Hmm…..” Matais gave a brief smile and picked up the coffee pot asking both men with the gesture if they wanted some – they both nodded and as Matais poured he picked up on where he felt Roy was leading him.
“The guy’s gonna have to watch his ticker if he wants to follow his medicine any further”, he said with a deadpan delivery, and with a wry twist to the corner of his mouth he offered the coffee to Silver Tree. The tall man’s face slowly transformed into a beaming wide smile and he suddenly let out a loud barking laugh that cascaded into a gurgling wheeze. Shadow Crow’s face was cracked with a broad grin and, quietly laughing on his breath, he shook his head and let out a sigh…..if there was one thing the three of them had in common it was that same dry, wry sense of humour.
“What’s an overweight Fed nearing retirement doing getting transfered to the River anyhow……” said Silver Tree, wandering over to the cabin window. “….’specially if he don’t know he’s a Qoy. There’s something else, I know it.”
Shadow Crow pursed his lips and, catching Matais eye, raised his eyebrows – they all knew that was the sixty four thousand dollar question.
“Someone doesn’t want the Qoy medicine getting involved”, the old man stated matter of factly. “Its the only reason they’re bein’ killed off…..”
“Thats as may be Crow….” said Silver Tree as he gazed out, “….but, it ain’t as if it ever went away. Why here…..and why now”.
Matais felt he knew, but, it was a long shot…..
“Lot of folk getting hot under the collar over whats goin down since the big trucks started rolling in….’specially south of the Bay.”
Silver Tree turned to listen. He too had noticed the activities of the op around Hooded Mountain stepping up a gear – Matais was right, it wasn’t just the cop. But, could they be connected, the deaths and the mountain?
“You think the mining company has something to do with this……?” he said, fixing his hawk like gaze on Matais.
Matais shrugged, “Why else would a city cop be drafted in…..recruited, even”….
“…..heh! You think he’s been hired to clean up?…….Man!” said Silver Tree turning to look out of the cabin again. “They could’a chosen someone with…..” – but, he stopped suddenly.
“Holy shit!”
Matais and Shadow Crow exchanged a glance as Roy reached for his rifle and lifted the latch on the cabin door.
“That’s Floyd Rivers…and he’s been shot….”
His hands gripping his stomach, a trail of dark crimson beads fell from his knuckles and led back down the snow covered track behind Floyd as he staggered towards Shadow Crow’s cabin. Last thing he was aware of was the clear sensation through his blurred vision that a man was running towards him……there was a voice, but, he could barely hear him…..and then a face very close to his, a face he recognised…..Silver Tree. But, it couldn’t be – he hadn’t been seen for twenty five years or more…….
……and then, as far as Floyd was concerned, the only thing that mattered was the vacuum of silence he felt himself falling into, and the overwhelming urge to summon all his might into one last dance……..
After all these years it seemed as though Roy Silver Tree could not shake off the shadow of the past that was following him. Death was stalking him, following his tracks as if waiting for the means and opportune moment to bring him down, at least that was how the Feds would see it if they knew he had been present at Floyd’s death. But, death carried no thoughts of vengeance, that was a human quality and the bullet that had pierced Floyd’s back had vengeance written all over it. Floyd too was a natural Qoy, one who had learned well how to use his gifts for the good of all, but, more than that he was a knowledge keeper of the medicines at Hooded Mountain, as had been his grandmother Charlotte Rivers. It was their responsibility to look after those matters of spirit that belonged this sacred place. To Shadow Crow and Matais this and Floyd’s death was the confirmation of the link and, true to form, they too now found themselves under suspicion of the Feds.
The shock of Floyd’s murder, and there was no doubt this time about the nature of the crime, produced a gaping wound in the indigenous community. Not only the people, the land and the medicines were now under threat, but, the immediate threat was now as tangible as the trail of blood that led to Shadow Crow’s cabin. When news reached the Bay the ripple it sent out across the community brought another kind of vengeance out of hiding, one that had been building ever since the mining company had begun their operations at Hooded Mountain. The peace of that sacred place was being violated, the rights of the people along with it, and the past could not be kept buried any more. Their voices would now be heard. But, there was one other curious matter that compounded everything ~ the cop, the ‘chief’, had gone missing…..
‘Fragments Blown Through Death’s Door’ is adapted from the novel ‘The Message’. I started writing ‘The Message’ and its sister works in response to the escalating violation of indigenous rights and violence being wrought in the pristine wildernesses of our world at the hands of corporate greed. The medicines of the people are at the centre of this struggle for freedom and justice and this story, the second of three exploring the roots of the medicines and the motivations of their enemies, is now nearing completion. This is an extract from the first draft. The first story, ‘Chenge and the Spider’, is currently being edited but extracts of ‘Chenge’ have already been published at Owlmirror. The third story is currently in its first draft – updates and further extracts from all of these stories will be published here in the course of time.
‘Fragments Blown Through Death’s Door’, ‘The Message’ & ‘Chenge and the Spider’ © Rob Purday 2013-17
The Beetle and the Dragonfly ~ Chenge and the Spider pt 2
“……..I leave no trace…..shadowless, I see all…..I am the eye in the Sun……”
………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
It was the silence that awoke him. There had been voices, rising and falling, reverberating as one sound, but, far off and indistinct, like a crowded market place heard as if from a hill top high above. The sound breathed, rising like a flock of birds on waves of warm air, before sinking back into the earth like rain on parched ground. Then, suddenly, there was silence.
The first thing Ake felt was soft fine sand between his fingers. He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly in the scorching white light. Then he saw it. Resting on the back of his hand, an iridescent blue dragonfly. It was larger than any he had seen before and was so shockingly beautiful that, in that moment, Ake wondered if he was still dreaming….until, the wondrous insect bobbed slightly and, quickly hovering away over his head, was lost to sight.
He turned, craning his neck, trying to follow the dragonfly’s flight, but, it had disappeared over the crest of the dune……then, all at once, it hit Ake. He was surrounded by sand, nestled in a hollow near the top of a sweeping crescent. He leapt to his feet, confused and more than a little frightened.
‘Where am I……..!?’ he spoke out loud. There was no answer……
‘How did I get here?! Where is Pemba…..?’
But, he was alone. And this place, it was so hot……he felt the sun on his back, beginning to burn. His eyes began to smart with salt tears and Ake felt his toes curl as a wave of fear rose up through his body. But, the feeling of something against the side of his foot made him gasp.
He jumped involuntarily and, looking down, saw that his head had been resting on the diviners bag, Pemba’s red woollen blanket folded neatly underneath it. He was momentarily reassured and, shaking his head with a sigh, he bent down to touch the precious talismans. But, the sound from Ake’s dream was still fresh in his mind and, with it, he remembered the dragonfly. It had been there on his hand when he had opened his eyes, he was sure of it, but, for a brief moment he wondered if a part of his dream had leaked into the daylight. The sudden compulsion to follow the insect’s flight pulled him out of his thoughts and he crawled on all fours towards the crest of the dune. When he reached the top the sight that met his young eyes was unlike any Ake had ever seen before.
An ocean of sand stretched as far as he could see, majestic and terrifying. Ake had a sense that it was not too long after sunrise, but, even though the sun was not high in the sky, the light and heat was intense. He’d never before left the savanah and the land surrounding him was completely alien to Ake. He turned slowly, surveying the parched horizon. Rippling away as far as he could see seemingly endless shimmering golden dunes were cut with deep shadows. Off to what he guessed was the north the pattern of the dunes was interrupted by a wider valley, but, Ake could see no trees or shrubs anywhere that might give him shade. There was not a living thing to be seen.
But, the dragonfly……there must be water nearby, and……he struggled with a half forgotten memory that wanted to emerge…..he was sure that he had heard someone talking about dragonflies only a few days ago. Ake shook his head and, confronted with the silence of the vastness surrounding him, suddenly felt the need to call out.
‘Hello……’
The sound of his voice in the midst of the vast desert only made him feel smaller and more alone. A tear ran down his cheek and he absent mindedly caught it with the tip of his tongue. Suddenly very thirsty, he retraced his steps, knelt by the divining bag and carefully felt beneath the blanket. The sand below was deliciously cool and soon his fingers felt the stone like smoothness of the drinking gourd. ‘Just a sip now, brother Ake…’ he heard Pemba’s voice in his mind.
‘Pemba’, he said softly as he put the stopper back in the gourd and tied it securely.
It may have been the taste of the clear spring water that triggered his memory, or perhaps it was the thought of Pemba’s advice, but, Ake suddenly remembered where he had heard about the dragonflies. It was Pemba himself who had told him. He had been recounting his own journey to the oasis as a young man. This had been a part of Pemba’s own initiation, but, initiation was far from Ake’s mind in that moment – the oasis was the meeting place Pemba had said they must travel to and medicine people from all directions would be gathering there.
The thought of the meeting was curiously re-assuring to Ake. It almost made sense of his being here, surrounded by desert. But, he had no recollection of the journey that had brought him! And, where was he? Was he close to the oasis – he must at least try and find out.
Gathering up the diviner’s bag, shaking out and refolding the blanket, he returned to the top of the dune and tried to decide on the best direction to go in. He looked back at where he had been sleeping. There were no footprints, save his own, but, he could not see a trail telling which direction he might have come from either.
It was instinct that said he must move, and, since it did not look as though Pemba had been there, he felt there was no choice. Ake looked down the face of the dune below. This was the direction he had last seen the dragonfly heading towards, and so, he carefully began to descend into its shadow. The sand was quite cool out of the sunlight, and he relished the feeling of it around his feet as it seemed to freshen his mind. Just as he came to the bottom of the slope he had another realisation. They had been in the Spider Mother’s cave when Pemba had begun talking about the meeting and had told Ake about the magical beauty of the oasis. He stopped in his tracks and thought hard……
….slowly the memory came back to him and, with it, a strong feeling that he should head north.
Just at that moment a movement to his left caught his attention. At first he put it off as a trick of the light, a passing shadow, but, there it was again. Some ten feet away, and running straight towards him, was a beetle. No bigger than his thumb and very dark against the sand, the beetle came to within two feet of Ake and stopped. He leant towards it and, quite naturally, said ‘hello, little one’. A shimmer of dark green iridescence glanced off the beetle’s shell. ‘Do you know where the dragonfly went’ he thought, half to himself, half asking the little creature.
The beetle waved its antennae, seemingly in response, and, after a moment, began digging a hole in the sand. That was it! Images quickly flashed across his mind as Ake felt a wave of recognition and the memory of the day Pemba had talked about the oasis came flooding back…..
……before he knew it, his minds-eye opened wide, Ake was back in the Grandmother Spider’s cave. They had gone to her shrine.
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With the spider’s help the night before, Ake had found the secret cave that housed her shrine. It had been the second evening of his grandfather’s funeral and he had been given his true name, as a part of his heritage. The other part of that precious gift was his grandfather’s divining bag. He could not resist opening it, and that was when it had all begun. But, he was sure that it was his grandfather’s doing that he was now on the path of initiation, following the Spider Mother’s path. She had led him to her shrine safely, but, the night had also revealed the great danger now threatening his people. Pemba had revealed the strange object to him that he and his grandfather had found on the edge of the desert and he recalled with a wince Pemba’s description of its owners, the People of the Dead. But, with his mentor close by, high up in the escarpment where the ancestors are buried, he had felt safe and protected from the storm that had raged over the land that night.
Sleep had taken him quickly and, at first light, he had awoken to find the Spider’s Cave still and calm. The storm had passed, erased with the dawning day, but, Pemba was nowhere to be seen. He had left a small pile of freshly picked fruit next to the fire’s simmering ashes. After splashing cool water from the gourd upon his face and hands, he had picked a couple of small green fruit from the pile and made his way to the cave entrance to greet the day.
A subtle mist was rising from the plains as the world emerged from its night journey. Above, in the growing light a pair of cranes flew out of the south and, high above the caves, sent a plaintive cry to the world below. An orange white shaft of light spilled over the horizon, the treetops below Ake’s perch at the cave entrance suddenly becoming adorned with a golden brilliance.
In those first few moments he had sat in awe of the beauty that flooded his senses, oblivious to the events of the previous night. This was the world he knew, comforting in its familiarity. As he heard the calling cranes and watched them fly overhead the thought crossed Ake’s mind that he too would soon be travelling north. Pemba had told him that a meeting of the medicine people had been called at a hidden oasis, deep in the desert, and they were bound to go. The path of Ake’s initiation was inextricably interwoven with the journey. He felt his heart flutter briefly as the memories returned of his grandfather, the dreams that had called him to this place, and the unfathomably strange object that Pemba and Grandfather Ake had found….the day suddenly took on a different dimension, became an horizonless field of uncertainty and questions. The People of the Dead! Who were they, what were they, how had this all come to be – Ake struggled to confront the reality that was now challenging his world. The world he knew was itself being called into question……
“I can see that you are beginning to wake up…..”
The voice came from behind Ake, but, the familiar tones of his guardian and mentor quickly washed away the uneasy feeling that had begun to gnaw at his belly…..and Pemba’s words seemed to be asking for a response. But, Ake could find none, save a smile and outstretched arms as he turned to meet his old friend. A hug when troubled with doubts is always good medicine, but, Pemba could tell that his protege was also beginning to feel the veils of innocence fall away. It was always like this. Initiation was a never ending affair in this world.
Pemba sat beside his young ward and nodded in recognition of the task ahead……
“I took the path into the desert once, when I was, well, not much older than yourself, younger brother…..it was a journey that your grandfather and I had to make, as a part of our own initiation.” He looked off towards the glowing horizon. “There is a place in the heart of that vastness that is filled with birdsong….tall palms line a pool of fresh clear tourquoise water, so sweet and refreshing to taste, and dragonflies hover and dart like mischevious spirits at its heart. Who would believe such beauty could be found in the midst of the desert heat. Being there is like being under a delicious spell within a dream……”
Pemba’s words cast their own magic in Ake’s imagination and seemed to cleanse his heart of its burdens. He began to relax as the world below returned to his sight and added its own beauty to the vision Pemba was spinning.
“We must prepare before we set off to find that place……I’ve made an offering at the Spider’s shrine to open our path, but, you must do the same before we leave. Come….this too is a special place…..”, and Pemba smiled impishly as he rose, offering a hand to Ake…..that smile was infectious and, jumping to his feet, Ake followed his mentor towards the back of the cave and the crack in the rock.
He watched as Pemba picked up a half burned stub of cut wood from the fire-pit, and, briefly stirring the embers with its charcoaled end, let it rest a moment in the glowing ash, then, lifting it close to his mouth, he blew on it. The branch radiated a warm red and orange light and, with a second breath, a small dancing flame emerged from its tip. Pemba tilted the little torch and encouraged the flame to grow slightly. Satisfied with the result, the old diviner turned with a nod to follow and, holding the torch before him, eased into the fissure in the rock…..
“…..this will serve to light the short way to the other side Ake…..its quite easy, c’mon…”, Pemba’s voice echoed uncannily from within the rock.
Ake could see Pemba ahead of him in dark silhouette as he entered the crack. The rock was smooth at his sides, as if an age of watery hands had sculpted it, and the narrow floor of the fissure was softened with a sediment of silt and small stones…..
After following Pemba for a few seconds, his breath held and his heart beating in anticipation, Ake saw his mentors outline merge with the rock off to the right….yet he could still see the soft glow of the torch ahead. Hurrying to catch up he came to the point where the crack in the rock turned a sharp corner and then continued straight for a few steps. He saw Pemba disappear once more as the passage-way turned again, this time to the left. A cool breath of wind brushed Ake’s cheeks as he turned the second corner. The floor of the passage tilted sharply downwards and levelled out about ten steps ahead.
As he approached the bottom of the incline the back of Pemba’s legs became visible ahead, but, Ake had not anticipated what was to meet his eyes once he arrived at his mentor’s side! A ledge that ran off to the left and right formed the lip of an immense chasm echoing with his footfall as Ake came to its edge. A diffuse light radiated down from an invisible source in the roof of the vast chamber giving a soft luminescence to the rocks below. It took Ake’s breath away as he took in the sight. Every few moments a small droplet of water fell from the ceiling of the cave, each a luminous pearl free-falling in space. Ake then became aware of a gentle sussurus in the background. Somewhere, far beneath them, off in an unseen part of the mountain, an underground river was in full speight……
” …..the shrine is down there Ake….” Pemba whispered, taking a step closer to the edge of the ledge, gesturing with his chin for Ake to take a look. Ake tentatively peered into the chasms depths……but, before he could decide what exactly he was supposed to be seeing, by way of a shrine, Pemba turned to face him and, bringing his face closer, looked over Ake’s shoulder and quietly said, “the way down is behind you, along the ledge….let me go first”.
The rock-wall arched overhead and small stones tumbled off the ledge as they picked their way along, gradually descending – Ake caught sight of the twisted shapes of roots hanging from the ceiling of the cave, as if emerging from dark clouds…..then he realised! The whole ceiling was covered in spider’ s webs, waving in diaphanous films, like smoke hanging in night air. The atmosphere closed in and, all around them, Ake felt the presence of a thousand unseen eyes, watching their every move.
“You must be careful here…” Pemba said in hushed tones, turning to face Ake. He had his hand resting on one of the two cut ends of a massive forked branch that rested on the rim of the ledge and disappeared below. It was a ladder, like those that led to the drying and curing platforms in the village, each step a wedge deeply cut into the wood. Pemba let the torch rest on the ground and reached downwards with a foot, facing the rock-wall – he did not look at Ake, or pick up the torch, as his head slowly disappeared below the rim.
The branch held firm against the rock with its own weight and Ake tried to imagine that he was simply climbing down from a drying platform, returning to the ground below – but, he had not expected the ladder to be so long, and to begin flaring out as he descended. He wanted to look around, but, dare not stop……and then his feet touched solid rock.
Still holding the ladder with one hand he turned to find Pemba staring at him with hawk like eyes in the gathering darkness. Without a word or gesture, Pemba turned again and, following an invisible trail, confidently walked away, slowly descending into the half light. They had arrived at a shallow concave plateau that Ake quickly realised was the top of a massive boulder…..hurrying after Pemba he found that there was a path that wound its way amongst a jumble of monolithic slabs of rock, some looking for all the world like the silhouettes of giant sleeping animals. As they descended deeper into the pit of the cave the rocks became smoother, more like river stones…..and Ake became aware of the sound of the underground torrent, rising like the voices and cries of an uncountable host – the memory of his grandfathers dream message, its vision of the ocean of souls flashed across his mind. He felt himself being drawn towards its shores…….
Two strong hands grasped Ake’s shoulders and the obsidian light of two shining eyes peered with a penetrating intensity into his own. Pemba raised a finger to his lips, making a firm sign to remain absolutely quiet, slowly letting his finger fall away – the sight momentarily pulled Ake out of his vision. Pemba nodded briefly and, stepping to one side, gestured to Ake to go first.
Ahead, the pathway levelled out and then seemed to come to a halt against a wall of pitch darkness. This signalled another fissure, a cave entrance within the cave. He heard Pemba following as he slowly entered the subterranean night, his eyes scanning the darkness before him.
The hard rock beneath Ake’s feet gave way to soft fine sand and, stretching out his hands in front of him, he edged slowly forward. He began to make out very feint filaments of colour in the air ahead, but, was it a trick of the dark, a play of some inner vision that he could not put a shape or form to? He paused and strained with all his senses to find some clue as to how to go forward. A fast moving streak of green light cut across his field of vision and he suppressed a gasp as the memory flashed across his mind of the spider’s luminous thread from the previous night. Then all was still.
It was at that moment that Ake realised that he was not only standing in the midst of impenetrable darkness, but, it had become totally silent. The seering doubt of his confusion span him instinctively on his heels, and then he did gasp. He did not see the way back to the chasm as he had expected he would, instead, there was no light, anywhere. For a moment it was as if every external sense of the world, save the feeling of sand beneath his feet, had become extinguished and Ake, his head spinning with disorientation, slumped onto to the soft sand in a faint.
In the moment that he came round, Ake wondered if he was indeed awake. He blinked but there was no change to the darkness. He reached out with his hand to prop himself up, but, instead of finding sand beneath his palm he briefly layed his hand on something soft….his hand recoiled. Then he recognised the feeling that his fingers had registered…it was the divining bag. He had forgotten all about it…..but, how had it gotten here. Pemba. It must have been put there earlier by Pemba…..
He reached for the bag and, sitting up, drew it to his chest and let the comforting feeling of its familiarity fold around his heart.
“See……”
The voice came like a finely settling rain of dust upon his ears…….
“See…..my little one……”
The rush of doubt that Ake felt on hearing the voice slowly gave way to a rising fire of recognition in his belly…….he knew that voice.
“It has been so long, beautiful child…..my Chenge…..see……”
Ake suddenly felt his throat constrict and he sucked in a breath, holding it as the memory rose upon a tide of emotion…….
“Mama…..?!”
A soft shuffling, just a few feet away to his side, pulled his head around……but he could see nothing.
“See…….”
“Mama….is that you….I cant see you…..”
“I am safe little one…….”
Ake hardly dared move, but, this time the voice was infront of him, and closer. The green luminous thread re-emerged before his eyes and began turning about itself, making circles and spirals that left vapour trails of cold mist in the pitch darkness. Slowly they wove a shape in the air and became an oval of softly shimmering light.
Eyes appeared, a nose and mouth, rounded cheeks, forming a face…..and then Ake knew. He was gazing in total disbelief at the face of his mother!
“I have a message for you, my little one……”
Ake was transfixed. He would so have loved to run into his mothers arms, but, there was…..only her face before him.
“Mama…….mama, what has happened…..is it really you?!”
“Listen to the Spider Mother, Chenge…..she is helping you…….I am far away, but…..we will meet again…..follow her thread, little one……”
“We will meet again, Mama? But, when….where are you……what has happened to you?”
“Look for the tall one, the white one, he bears a sign……follow the thread, little one…..”
At the mention of the ‘white one’ Ake’s heart recoiled and a feeling he had never felt before welled up in his belly. It asked him to do something, anything, to bring his mother back.
“The white one mama? Surely you don’t mean one of the people of the dead…..!”
“He bears a sign…..you will know it……follow, little one…..my Chenge….”
And with this the face began to dissolve before Ake’s eyes.
“Mama….don’t go……mama!”
Ake heard his voice echo softly as the face slipped away into darkness. He began to weep and clutched the diviner’s bag as if it were the last memory of a world he had once known. Another soft shuffling sound broke across his grief and, suddenly realising that he could once more hear the sound of the rushing river, he jumped to his feet. But, the darkness remained.
The flash of green light cut swiftly across his eyes and left a single thread of mist suspended in the air. A thin crack of brilliant white emerged from the mist and grew into a vertical fissure in the pitch darkness that surrounded him. The crack widened and Ake could see a movement in its midst…..a figure was walking towards him. He recognised the shoulders and face of his mentor, Pemba.
“This place is the Spider’s shrine, younger brother……Ake?”
Ake was unsure of what he was seeing, he did not know whether to trust his senses.
“Ake?….what have you seen.”
The concern in Pemba’s voice was strangely reassuring and Ake felt his shoulders relax a little, the weight of the diviners bag now helping the world to solidify about him.
Pemba stopped a few steps away and cocked his head, staring at the bag……
“Well……” he seemed lost for words as he stepped closer, raising his hand to point at the diviner’s bag clutched to Ake’s chest.
“The day is full of surprises……this is most unusual….but, a good sign…..heh”
Pemba looked at Ake’s face with a soft concern. Laying his hands on Ake’s shoulders he said, “Come, tell me what happened…..we have an offering to make, but, you look as though…..”
“It was Mama, Pemba….she was here, I saw her and….she spoke to me”
“Spoke to you?!” The surprise in Pembas voice could not be disguised. The old diviner considered a moment and then, reaching behind his back for the drinking gourd he was carrying, he led Ake by the arm to the side of the cave. Ake realised that he could see the interior of the subterranean chamber quite clearly now. They were in a small oval cavity that reminded Ake of the adobe huts in which the families of his village lived. The walls were smooth and appeared to have a coating of fine clay. The back of the chamber was feintly illuminated from its entrance, but, surprisingly, Ake could see that the underground room was entirely empty.
As they rested their backs against the wall, Pemba caught the look of confusion on Ake’s face.
“I will explain…..all in good time, but….what did your mother tell you, younger brother, tell me what you want to”
Ake related everything that had happened from the moment that he had set foot into the darkness and, as his mentor listened, Pemba gave a nod at everything he heard. When Ake had come to the end of his account they sat in silence for a moment and then, offering the gourd to his young ward, Pemba let out a sigh…..
“It seems the Spider Mother has given to you a gift, brother Ake, and a gift of no small importance – I will tell you just why I am saying this after we have made the offering, if you can wait…..” and, at this Pemba rose to his feet.
A tender smile greeted Ake’s eyes as he looked up.
“….and, we must make it a special gift in return for her kindness, eh?”
Ake was surpised in the next moment to see Pemba scooping handfulls of sand to the side from the floor of the subterranian room – he was close to its center and the sand was dry, sliding slowly back in on itself. But, soon, Pemba’s hand scraped against a solid surface. He brushed the sand aside to reveal a large round circle of stone with a wedge shaped notch cut out of its edge. Pemba carefully placed his hand into the gap and with a strong pull lifted the stone away, flipping it onto its back, revealing a smaller perfectly round hole beneath……
“Bring the divining bag over Ake” he said, as he brushed the sand clean from the edge of the hole. “Now…..see what comes out” he said gesturing with his chin towards the bag…..
“…..go on, don’t be afraid…..theres something in there we need”.
Ake unwound the strap from the neck of the bag and cautiously put his hand inside. The feeling of soft fur met Ake’s fingers and, feeling his way down the sides, he found several smaller leather bags nestled together. He looked to Pemba……
“Yes….thats it….”
Gripping the neck of one of the small bags he slowly eased it out…..it was no bigger than his fist and dyed a very dark blue that reminded Ake of the night sky.
“Ahhh…..now open it”, said Pemba, obviously intrigued at the choice.
The binding was old, but, once Ake had eased it away, a sharp odour emerged instantly from the bag, making Ake’s nose twitch.
“Take one pinch” Pemba instructed, watching carefully as his protege reached in with his thumb and fore-fingers. He pulled out a small quantity of pitch black powder, just like charcoal dust, but, very slightly oily to the touch.
“This is ‘black snuff’, though amongst the Spider people it is known as ‘night medicine’. It is one of the most valuable healing preparations we make, amongst the diviners, that is. It is for use only by those who have knowledge of its effects. Without that knowledge it is simply charcoal, to the unknowing. It seems I’ll be teaching you how to make it very soon,” Pemba said with an approving nod. Ake tried to look more closely, without dropping any of the powder.
“Is this what I am to give to the Spider mother, Pemba?”
“Well, it looks like you are being called upon to make this medicine a sign of gratitude to her, yes, but…..it needs a special song to accompany it……”
Ake looked questioningly at his mentor…….but, Pemba simply raised his eyebrows, smiling with a little nod…..
“But, which song should I sing…..?”
“Think of where we are going….and what has just happened here….then let it come out, sing it……and, remember, say thank-you to the Grandmother Spider”
Ake liked to sing, it came naturally to him, especially when he was busy with something that took time….but, he had never tried to make a song out of things that had not happened yet, or feelings as strong and deep as those that the memory of his mother had brought up in him. Then, without warning, as he was pondering these things, a single syllable of sound escaped his lips…..and before he knew it a melody was springing up in him. It seemed to accompany the images that drifted through his mind.
“Sing it into the ‘night medicine’ Ake, then give the medicine to the hole….but, keep singing until the song has run its course.”
The melody arose with a slow dignity from Ake and into the ‘night medicine’. He felt its power gently flowing through him at first, then he began swaying his body from side to side. For a moment it was as if he was sitting in the middle of a small boat on a rolling expanse of water. Stars appeared above him following the motion of the boat. He closed his eyes and let the melody pour into the night medicine. He felt his hand release the black powder into the darkness at his feet…..the song grew stronger.
A gust of wind swept strands of hair around his cheek and he opened his eyes……the stars above remained, swirling around a tall stout pole that extended above him. There was a triangular sheet of ochre skins attached to its top and bottom and Ake quickly realised he was speeding over the water in a hide covered boat, like the ones he had seen in the Lake People’s village.
“You must listen to the stars, let them give their stories to you, brother Ake,” a powerful voice sounded behind him.
Ake spun round to find his grandfather sitting at the stern, his strong old hands holding the end of a steering paddle, his eyes staring towards the heavens….for a moment Ake was speechless.
“….they will take you beyond the horizon and return you safely home.”
“Grandfather!”
“Look!” And the old man pointed over Ake’s shoulder, his eyes widening.
Ake glanced involuntarily in the direction his grandfather had pointed. In that instant a single star suddenly expanded and sent out a blinding flash that stunned Ake. For a moment he could see nothing but white light. Then shapes slowly began to emerge, blurred and vague at first, and there was a tickling feeling on his cheek.
Ake shook his head and caught site of the small green iridescent beetle just as it disappeared beneath the sand. There was a sound like many voices speaking very fast, as if heard from a long way off……then the dragonfly darted over his head and stopped in mid-air just an arms length in front of Ake.
He had been lying on the cool sand, but, for how long! Where the beetle had been there was now a small conical mound of sand. It must have been only an eyeblink, yet, he felt as though it were an eternity. The dragonfly turned on its centre and a second later sped off down the valley between the dunes.
“I’m not loosing sight of you this time,” Ake said under his breath and, jumping to his feet, he slung Pemba’s blanket and the diviner’s bag over his shoulder and set off after the iridescent blue being………he did not see the swift shadow that darted away across the sand ahead of him……..
Chenge and the Spider © copyright Rob Purday 2013
The Beetle and the Dragonfly © copyright Rob Purday 2013
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Look out for the continuing story of Chenge and the Spider at a new dedicated website launching soon!
The Seventh Moon
The seventh lunation of 2014 is initiated as the Sun and Moon meet in the 6th degree of Cancer on June 27th. There are many planetary influences and events present throughout this period, especially around and after full Moon. Here, rather than giving direct reference to these, we will explore the key characteristics, qualities and energetics of the 29 day cycle as a whole, between new Moon and New Moon.
Traditionally, this lunation is associated with the swelling and ripening of fruits and buds, their growing fullness, and with the outer changes that accompany this organic process. It is a moontime, or month, that is infused with the red blush that spreads across the skin of fruits as they ripen, with the heat of the Sun and simultaneously with the inner warmth of the womb and deep earth. It is connected with the newly grown antlers pushing against their covering…
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The Spirit of Revolt
Just as Mars comes into direct opposition with Uranus in the tropical zodiac the Thunderbolts Project fittingly release the second part of their documentary on the red planet. You will find Episode 2 Symbols Of An Alien Sky : The Lightning Scarred Planet embedded below, but, what is the significance of this timely release for us now?
….astrologically the timing could not be more appropriate, highlighted through Mars in Libra and Uranus in Aries; a release-seeking tension manifest through opposition of ‘powers’ in interconnected relationship.
Uranus, along with Jupiter, is associated with lightning, natural life-force, and Mars with the ability to make energy manifest forcefully. High input and direction create significantly enhanced levels of action, and all three planets, as well as the Moon, are strongly figured at this time. In fact, great energy is the common denominator here. We can use that energy now to powerful effect, in fact we must, to break the dictatorship of old patterning that has plagued our planet for millenia. The relationship between the power of Nature and human determinism have written the history books, but, now is the time in which the anachronistic power of breakthrough to be used with full consciousness and intent to make that break.
The effects of dictatorship and patterning are everywhere, hidden in plain sight, but, perhaps nowhere with more pernicious effect than in Science, at lleast that science taught and upheld within the mainstream. For example, in the orthodox views of astrophysics the electrical factor is somewhat disassociated from the physical evidence. The emphasis is firmly planted in the gravitational and the nuclear, and this is how it has been for a little over a century. Now, though, a radical change is taking place, largely through the evidence coming from Electric Universe theory, observation and practice – natural philosophy is returning to science the grounding that its overspecialisation and theoretical fantasising has undermined. I shall provide evidence of this shift in subsequent posts when we peel back the surface illusion of the orthodoxy and explore in more detail what has been hidden in plain sight for so long. The regrounding process will have deep repercussions within both astronomy, astrophysics and astrology, as well as our everyday world, and, naturally, this will generate a resistant reaction. But, change is inevitable – our business is to manage our part in it wisely. Our planet is engaged in an energy revolution and the onus is on us all to facilitate it. The question is can we do so without destroying ourselves in the process……..this is as much about control by force in opposition to inspired radical action as anything else, but, there comes a point where the forces unleashed also step beyond the known and control becomes exponential cascading of consequences. We are already seeing this threshold being crossed in the world of transhumanism and genetics. The correlate of this is the emergent force that counters the exponential effect – the balance between the two at this time could be seen as an accurate description of the Mars Uranus opposition, especially with both squaring Pluto in Capricorn.
Inspired radical action here can be seen as anarchistic, but, strip the political ramifications from the term and natural energy reveals itself in a raw state. This is the energy of both Change, the signature of the Uranus Pluto square we are still in the midst of, and of ‘re-vitalisation’, the Mars opposition to Uranus. Pluto square Uranus will remain within orb for two more years, but, what happens within this time will directly affect our world for many years to come. ‘Politics’ here equates with control, very much the focus of Pluto in Capricorn in the mundane. As much as anarchy stands diametrically opposed to the power of State, and appears to be the simple answer, experience, however, also tells us it is an error to believe that change can only come if it is engaged with through direct action on the part of the People; it can be forced upon us too.
The feedback loop between the dipoles is complex. The struggle to maintain ‘Peace’ is testimony to that fact, if we have ever really had any peace. This is more a question of sovereignty as a manifestation of power and contract of mutual benefit between those dipoles. While Uranus with Mars in opposition signals the critical release of energy that denies control and reinstates self determination, in fact, the opposition of these ‘powers’ asks us to find a third way, the bottom up radical transformation of both planets square with Pluto. This is a path that, if not embodying an unforseen synthesis, or new ‘politic’, will arise naturally out of necessity. Venus in Taurus quincunx the north node tells us this a natural necessity, one upon which our global future, or at least its nature, depends. If nothing else and without any doubt, at all scales this means a new and radically different working relationship with Power itself………as the Russian philosopher and anarchist Peter Kropotkin said in ‘The Spirit of Revolt’ in 1880,
“There are periods in the life of human society when revolution becomes an imperative necessity, when it proclaims itself as inevitable. New ideas germinate everywhere, seeking to force their way into the light, to find an application in life; everywhere they are opposed by the inertia of those whose interest it is to maintain the old order; they suffocate in the stifling atmosphere of prejudice and traditions. The accepted ideas of the constitution of the State, of the laws of social equilibrium, of the political and economic interrelations of citizens, can hold out no longer against the implacable criticism which is daily undermining them whenever occasion arises…….”
…….this declaration too came out of a time in which Pluto and Uranus were square to each other, in Taurus and Leo respectively and in the same phase as they are now, as well as the same elemental relationship according to sign – unless we pay heed to the ‘awakening events’ surrounding us now history is sure to repeat itself.
Think back over the last 135 years, the approximate average length of a Pluto Uranus cycle, and consider the world changing events that have taken place.
Within the intervening time, a complete Uranus Pluto cycle later, much of the history of our solar system has systematically become obscured from our contemporary collective consciousness. Through a heavily biased orthodox interpretation of Newtonian and Einsteinian physics we have arrived at a science that is largely built upon rules and laws derived from mathematical abstraction and theoretical invention rather than natural observation. That same science has become, in this time, the servant of a plutocracy, a ruling minority invested in material power for whom the primary instruments are war, technology, personal financial and corporate power, and secrecy. Since the late 19th century the ‘military industrial complex’ has replaced the State in governance and brought all of these instruments in tow. Nature has become its ultimate victim, but, so has personal sovereignty.
The revolution is, however, underway that will rewrite the backstory, both of our Universe across all scales, and of human history. The Electric Universe is very much at the centre of this, and, although the scientific establishment and their investors are putting up strong and openly propagandist opposition to the emergent view, the evidence is becoming impossible to ignore – we have been deeply, heavily and persistently lied to. Nature is the battle ground of the revolution! Monsanto know this……so do the eugenicists and transhumanists who claim to offer the way out. The truth, however, cannot be ignored.
Nature will prevail, but, if the surface of Mars also gives stark reminder of the possible reality in this, it is our relationship with the forces that have shaped it that is crucial.
The Thunderbolts film reveals a story that is literally etched into the Martian surface. It tells of a significant part of our solar system’s most recent radically formative events. The surface of Mars is testimony to the radical effects of interacting physical and electrical forces, but, it takes an eye that can see to recognise the truth embodied in its rills, valleys and craters. The northern hemisphere of Mars has lost millions of cubic miles of its surface rock. Conventional science resorts to meteoric and cometary impact, water erosion and vulcanism to explain such facts. In fact, ‘theory’ is very much giving way to ‘the evidence of on the ground reality’ in this respect, as the documentary shows with startling clarity. The electric forces at work are everywhere and in everything……consider then, even Einstein admitted to leaving the electrical force out of his equations…….
The evidence on the ground on Earth is undeniable.
Since the Pluto Uranus square first came into close orb back in 2010, marked by the Gulf of Mexico BP oil spill, we have seen environmental disasters build. With Uranus entry into Aries in March 2011, and the Fukushima Daichi nuclear disaster, the scale and intensity of these have increased, putting steady and inexorable pressure upon our natural world. Our individual and planetary health are inextricably interwoven – realising the extent of this truth and embedding that realisation within concensus reality, could save us, but, recognition of our culpability within this relationship is essential. “The truth hurts, but, the lies are killing us”. At least five thousand years of human history culminate around this point…….
…….the events that led to Mars surface scars may well have been contemporanious within that time frame. The indigenous myths and traditions hold this as true. Certainly a feature of this period is the prolonged use of martial force, the epitomised Martian signature, although, as a symbol of energy embodied, Mars is not confined to warriors and armies. In our times however this comes up time and again as the predominant interpretation, as much a reflection of our own reality as that of the red planets energetic symbolism. Globally, militant provocation is blatantly self evident, as are humanitarian crimes in general that carry a violent signature – but, as counter to their destructive elements, they also penetrate our awareness and call us to action, to be creative and pro-active, just as Uranus and Mars also do symbolically. This can also be a powerfully protective energy.
Jupiter, who shares an association as ‘thunderer’ with Pluto, is no less affecting our relationship with the past and our trajectory towards the future as the giant planet is square to the Moon’s nodes at this time. From Cancer Jupiter brings an enhanced sense of purpose to the whole issue of our collective trajectory. We must deliberate, be vocal, share amongst those we know and find our kindred spirits. This aspect will be in effect simultaneously with the Mars Uranus opposition until Jupiter enters Leo in mid-July. It is perhaps also fitting that the Thunderbirds Project have released this film at the moment when the Moon is joining Uranus in Aries, making its radical insights and energy available to the people. They have done so, as they say, ‘after much deliberation’. We are all traversing thought provoking times, and we have surely had enough time for deliberation…….
As much as these are tough times, asking, if not demanding of us to raise our energies to a new level with awareness and determination to meet them, they also hold great promise. The insights that a sharpened and focused consciousness brings shape the view we have of both our present, where we have come from and the path ahead. At the time of writing, with the Sun at the turning point in its annual path, now is the time for a turning point in our worldly affairs to be made manifest as well. In daily life we are all now dealing directly with the potential for dramatic change through which our future will become manifest; it exists in the smallest detail as much as the global event…..perhaps, however, it is within the ongoing revolution in awareness through which that potential can be most clearly seen. The transfiguration of humanity beyond planetary conflict and destruction almost certainly arises from it and can be invoked with epoch turning effect through the Spirit of Revolt, if it is embodied wisely. Conversely, the increasing prevelance of change itself can render us immune, anaesthetised to its imperative energy – we cannot afford to go blindly forward, in shock, or under the misguided apprehension that peace equals pacivity. Every reminder and stimulous that maintains an awakened state and builds upon its effective presence matters immensely. In this film that potential is embodied with an exciting and grounded sense of reality that suggests we are indeed alive in a time of extra-ordinary revolution……
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