Nature is Calling
"I can see the mountains I can see the skies with 3 more minutes to go
And it’s to dern pretty for a man that don’t want to die 2 more minutes to go"-Johnny Cash, 25 Minutes To Go
Yesterday I had to run some errands in town and finally got the energy to do so. It wasn't particularly difficult except for trying to find a small business using my phone gps. For some reason the device kept freezing up, sending me to the wrong address, and literally had me driving around in circles until I gave up and called the place to get directions. What I found most suspicious was that even power cycling the device didn't seem to have any effect. All my apps were running super slow or crashing, and the navigation voice kept alternating from the saccharine melody of a modern female AI back to the stunted robo-speech of ten years ago.
On a whim I tried covering up the cameras and instantly everything was functional again. When I uncovered them the problems returned. I ended up stuffing it under the folded sun shade for the rest of the trip and just ignoring it, and by the time I'd gotten to my third destination the problem had gone away.
If I had to guess why the Eye of Sauron fell on me that day it could be the black humor AIPAC jokes I'd been sharing in my social circles. Recent doom scrolling sojourns revealed horrible images from last month of some poor Palestinian kid who was shredded by a bomb and being used as a lure to bring rescuers to his aid. The helpers were then annihilated by more laser guided weapons, leaving a pile of bodies and even more screaming victims in the street. Onlookers could only stand by helplessly since going out there and try to assist would mean pointlessly sacrificing their own lives. This baiting tactic is probably one of the reasons I have to regularly try and stop one of my veteran friends from drinking himself to death. He still won't share his worst experiences with me, but the psychological damage of the War On Terror continues to terrorize everyone, including the society who's funding and support made it all possible.
Obviously it was wonderful to wake up to the news this morning that Tulsi Gabbard just got picked for the Director of National Intelligence position. As someone who ended up on a watch list herself I really look forward to her successful Senate confirmation after which she can start declassifying and dismantling the runaway Deep State agencies that tortured my father, opened my mail, and weaponized my devices. On the other hand it's disappointing to watch neocons and lobbyists getting top level cabinet picks in the coming administration. The dangerous game continues as the bodies of innocents pile up for profit. My eyeballs remain fixed to the screen as the doom scrolls on, an endless vigil as previously-unshakeable narratives continue to break down and get replaced by the Next Thing.
I don't like these thoughts. A reefer truck full of ice cold liberal tears is not enough to wash away the headaches from constant reality testing. It feels like literal internet poisoning. If you've ever taken care of an elderly person who all of a sudden gets really cranky and you can't figure out why, there's a good chance it's either a UTI or constipation. Things go into the body that aren't supposed to be there, systems get out of balance, and the resulting build up of excrement releases toxins into the bloodstream that make life absolutely miserable. Most people go about their lives eating the equivalent of information junk food and have no idea that they are suffering because it's been so long since they felt normal. For the doom scrollers it's even worse. We pulled back the curtain hiding what was going on in the kitchen and saw the cats in the freezer, and now there's no amount of sugar or fake mayo that's going to cover up the taste.
The internet should be cute animal videos, unsigned sludge metal albums for study sessions, and DIY forums that help me fix my stuff so I don't get charged the Haole reverse-discount. Instead we have a generation that was babysat by tablets and grew up comparing their moms' O.F. accounts. Mental illness is now a profession with influencers practicing their best freakouts and breakdowns so that when it comes time to ruin everyone else's day they can do so with maximum effect. The information superhighway became a bear trap that invites people to chew off their limbs for likes and subscribes. Sewage treatment plants overflow with psychiatric medications. Profit is maximized.
In Occult philosophy there's a concept called Qliphoth which also goes by the name Kingdom of the Shells. It's where demonic beings who could not pass through the last phase of evolution got stuck, trapped by their own refusal to acknowledge the inevitability of Universal Law. The demonic realm is often represented as a reverse Tree of Life, but instead of ascending into divine unity the pattern flows downward into madness and ultimate deprivation. For every heartwarming rescue animal video with millions of views there's an unspeakable documented atrocity on the dark web being passed around by the cursed collective consciousness of soon-to-be former humans. Eventually we all (more or less) make it back to the Central Sun, it's just a matter of how long someone wants to wallow in suffering before they get there. For those on the way down it's going to feel like an eternity.
What I'm noticing about the internet is that unlike nature the system seems very unbalanced. What we see on the surface is bad enough, never mind the tree of woe beneath. Such a system cannot last very long, which means for those of us who spent a considerable chunk of our lives online it's time to get busy figuring out how to survive without it. Sooner or later the day will come when the artificial collective mind will follow the way of all things demonic and spin down to oblivion, leaving a whirlpool of confusion in it's wake. How does one escape getting sucked into this illusory pit of despair? By maintaining relationships with actual reality of course, and fortunately help is available. In fact I'd dare to say something greater is throwing out a lifeline right now and hoping that you will reach out to grab it.
In my case the realization of a helping hand came through the work of a fellow Substacker who goes by the handle of Boring Rocks for Nerds. It's basically a bunch of pictures of different rocks with mostly zero context that's most likely meant to be a tongue and cheek joke. The experience reminds me of walking along a trail with an amateur geologist who keeps pointing out random stuff but the viewer has headphones on and is too high to care. Sometimes a red arrow is provided to draw our attention to a specific rock which often seems to be chosen at random, and thanks to this simple yet unusual formula BRFN has already accumulated almost 500 subscribers even though the account has only been active since May.
I can't speak for anyone else but myself in this regard, but the reason I find the account so entertaining is that every time a new rock comes up I always seem to find something interesting about it. Even though the concept seems to be mocking pretentious nature photography, the fact is that Nature is still there in her raw form telling all sorts of stories on a time scale that most people would have a difficult time imagining if they even bothered to try. We are all so used to having everything captioned and our attention being directed to certain things that in the absence of human manipulation we start to hear a different voice calling out from the wilderness, reminding us that everything that we think is important is only temporary while what we consider mundane is actually the realm of the eternal.
I'm sure the curator is having a good laugh at this right now, but the picture above was actually a huge help to me during these difficult times. Almost right away I noticed the Druid symbol of Awen, otherwise known as the Three Rays of Light. On one side is Power, the other is Peace, and in the central ray represents Harmony. This instantly reminded me that my cyber-constipation is only a temporary state of discomfort, and there's a whole world of discovery and wonder outside the pixelated prison walls waiting for us to join in and rediscover the true nature within each of us.
My guess is that spirit of freedom is also reaching out for you, fellow traveller, in ways that only you can understand. Maybe it's the sound of wind rushing through the trees, raindrops bouncing off the window, warm sunlight on your skin, or clouds racing across a waxing moon. Something out there is calling us to put down our load of heavy thoughts of men and things, step out side, and participate in the enchantment of a world which we pass through so quickly yet rarely take the time to appreciate until our journey is almost at an end.
We have very little to gain by postponing this process especially now that the foundations of collective madness are crumbling away. If you are having difficulty figuring out how to tap into this energy a good technique I learned was to regularly take my shoes off, put my bare feet on a natural surface, close my eyes, and try to feel the currents moving through the earth and cycling through the polarity of my body. It's an experience I'd compare with spiritual Metamucil that helps push out the dark mass of death cult consciousness and experience the relief of inner emptiness that ultimately encourages me to continue on my journey to reunite with the divine.
It's not the end of the journey but rather the beginning, so try not to be too surprised when something asks you to take a next step, and then another. Once you answer the call, previously-boring rocks will start telling you stories and asking you to do stuff, thereby opening up a conversation with a realm far greater that is conceivable to the subatomic limits of our incarnate understanding.
Source: Nā Akua o Hawaiʻi
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