“How can we build structures — psychological, social and physical structures — that allow trust to evolve?” Yes. That is the question of our time. And damned difficult to do, when, simultaneously, Uranus/Pluto is centrifuging all the old structures apart (2012-2015).
The Fall Equinox 2012, when day and light are of equal length, occurs tomorrow, September 22. For the next three months, until December 21, the date of our supposed Ascension and the end of the old Mayan Calendar, we will be whirled into the gathering darkness, as night more and more eclipses the day. The activity of spring and summer begins to wane. Time for stillness, quiet, pregnant dreaming.
Oh yeah? Not this year. This culminating year we’ve been looking forward to/dreading ever since we read pied piper Jose Arguelles, his The Mayan Factor,
and that very year, for three days in August 1987, gathered in conscious circles at sacred sites all over the world for the “Harmonic Convergence.”
That was 25 years ago! And here we are. Only three months to go!
Ye gods! Will we make it? Will we manage to prevent war, chaos, mayhem, drastic geophysical and/or sociological changes, for these final three months?
Yesterday evening, in this university town, a flurry of emails back and forth with neighbors from a few blocks over — one dear, dead cat, police slowly cruising by, drug houses? We decide to have a Green Acres Neighborhood Association meeting, to address the subject of community safety, our first meeting in a couple of years.
I’ve been working as a neighborhood activist all this time, through a project I founded, the Green Acres Neighborhood Garden, rather than formal meetings, which seemed to sap everyone’s time without meaningful action or consciousness shift.
What do I mean by consciousness-shift?
I was watching a video early this morning, on Dieter Duhm,
Dieter Duhm
a German activist and philosopher born during my year, 1942, and Tamera, a “Peace Research Center” in Portugal where he and his fellows attempt to discuss and build models for a redeemed future. As the lovely young female speaker says, early in the video: How can we build models, psychological, sociological, physical models, that allow trust to evolve?
Yes. How can we?
I was yanked awake at 5:30 this morning by some young man on the street in front of my house, lurching along on foot, loudly groaning. Geez! Either he’s massively drunk or somebody’s murdering him! Puppy Shadow barked. I tensed. The automatic light went on outside. We got up to see what the ruckus was. By that time he was gone.
Later this morning, at 11 A.M., I participate in a panel discussion with nine and ten year olds at the “Project School” here in Bloomington. The topic? Neighborhood activism. What we are doing and how we got involved and why. The teacher says they’ve prepared lots of questions.
Meanwhile, Bloomington’s annual World Music and Art Lotus Festival
The design for this year’s pin, which, for $5, gives free access to Lotus in the Park on Saturday, and the World Spirit Concert Sunday evening.
began yesterday evening, with six venues downtown, through Sunday evening. A full three days of celebration, music and parades and dance and art and joyful milling about with friends and strangers and their weirdly shaped instruments from all over the world.
There’s that, that goodness. That hopeful routine uprising in the heart of this community. And there’s the residual fear and volatility, still infecting us, even here, still gripping our hands, trying to yank us into oblivion.
This morning, early, I received an email from a friend that told me that Cobra is a CIA agent. True? I looked up the url he gave me, and noticed that it sourced a Former White Hat, which, in my view, has been infected with disinfo.
Kerry Cassidy’s blog today again refers to possible UFO war off San Francisco coast, and/or bankster arrests — either one by Chinese and U.S. ships. Huh?
Tomorrow my young housemate Jim and I get a truck from fellow gift circle member Brian to haul loads of pea gravel, compost, and straw bales here, for the Green Acres Neighborhood Garden. The pile of wood chips the city gave us still sits on the side of my lawn, only partially dispersed to carpet-covered garden aisles.
Sunday I will go with good friend Perry (she helped me wash my husband’s dead body ten years ago) — finally dragging her out into the woods that we both love and that she has been too busy or preoccupied to remember — for a walk with puppy Shadow in Brown County State Park,
and then lunch at Muddy Boots cafe in Nashville, 16 miles from here. Later that afternoon, friend Shodo and I will work in the garden, and catch up with each other. She has moved to Minnesota to be near her children and to begin a permaculture venture there.
Juggling realities, whirling through the kaleidoscope of fear and love, I remain, hopefully, and with great focus, determination, and especially, meditation, centered in the NOW, as we balance on this razor edge of equal night and day.
