Showing posts with label meme. Show all posts
Showing posts with label meme. Show all posts

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Mercury Rising and The Messenger Cometh

"I will send my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you."—Luke 7:27

This week brought a rare opportunity to see the elusive planet Mercury in the sky at Sunset with Jupiter pointing the way (Mercury can be found just above and to the right of Jupiter).


Why is this is extraordinary?  Because Mercury is so elusive that many astronomers have never even seen it, including the famous astronomer Johannes Kepler. [Add to that the involvement of our super synchronistic, Second Sun-resonating planet Jupiter and it's clear that something's afoot!]

Due to Mercury's close orbit around the sun it can only be glimpsed against the twilight sky either just after Sunset or just before Sunrise...thus earning it the reputation of being The Messenger of the Sun.

Interestingly enough, NASA's Messenger Spacecraft will enter orbit to launch the first ever probe around Mercury late tonight (Thursday 3/17).


The Messenger meme seemed to begin in January 2011 following the tragic shootings in Tucson, AZ. 

Several synchronicities within that event linked the Tucson shooter Jared Loughner/Laughner to the Joker tarot card, the Goodyear Tire logo, and Hermes the Greek Messenger god (see my post for more on that).


Then during the month of February the Messenger thread connected to Egyptian President Mubarak during the uprising in his country.


The thread has now resurfaced in the midst of the Libyan uprising.  Today a news article referred to Moammar Gadhafi as "Mercurial".


A quick Google search on the word "Mercurial" brings up a pic of the Nike Vapor shoe....

Nike Mercurial Vapor shoe---dig that groovy Checkerboard Sole/Soul.

...which syncs us right back back to our fleet-footed god Hermes, the Messenger of the Sun/Son.

To cap it all off, today's post over at the Mercury's Messenger blog mentions the connection between Sol, Soul, and the Sun.

Well, folks, it's official. The Messenger has arrived.

*******




messenger?
Philip Kindred Dick (December 16, 1928 – March 2, 1982)

I am your father, Valis said.
Where are you?
Above the stars, Valis said.
I came from above the stars?
Yes. Many times.
Then, I said, that was me? Who took over when the ad [sync] came in the mail?
That was yourself, remembering who you are.
Who am I? I said.
Everyone.
Amazed, I said, Everyone?
What am I going to do? I asked.
You asked to be broken down, Valis answered. And healed. This is that breaking down and healing. You will be changed.
And go on? I asked.
The warmth of his love consumed me like an invisible cloud of light. He responded, And go on. Nothing is ever lost.
I can't be lost? I asked.
There is nowhere for anything to go. There is only here and us. For all time.
I realized then, that Valis and I had never been separated, that he had only fallen silent from time to time. I felt tired, now; I had drifted low over the mesas and I wanted to rest. There was a lessening sense of Valis's presence, as if he were withdrawing. Yet he still remained, like a lamp turned down, down but not off. Like a child, I has assumed that something no longer seen no longer existed. To an infant, when its parents leave the room they cease to be. But as he grows older he understands differently. They are there whether or not he can see them or touch them or hear their voices. It is an early lesson. But sometimes perhaps not completely learned.
So now I knew who Valis was; he was my father, my real father, from whose race I came repeatedly into this world, to leave again, to return again, to work toward some distant goal unseen, not as yet comprehended. The search, perhaps, was the goal. As I achieved a little motion toward it, I understood it. Overthrowing the tyranny of Ferris Fremont was a stop along the way, not a goal but a moment of decision, from which I then continued as before. Changed to some extent, but changed by my father, not by what I had done. For, I understood, Valis himself did it, through me. The virtue lay with him.
We are gloves, I realized, which our father puts on in order to achieve his objectives. What a pleasure to be that, to be of use. Part of a greater organism: its extensions into space and time, into the world of change. To influence that change - the greatest joy of all.
I can instruct you, Valis's thoughts came, without the satellite. It is a thing to show them, a shiny toy. To make them understand. When it fired it did its task; it served to open your mind and other minds. Those minds, opened once, will never close. The contact is established and the circuit is in place. It will remain that way. 
I am linked up then, I realized. For all time. 
You have remembered. You know. There is now no forgetting. Be of good cheer. 
Thank you, I said.
Son of Earth and starry heaven. The old rite, the disclosure to the ancient initiate. I had undergone the Orphic ceremonies, down in the dark caves, to emerge suddenly into the chamber of light, to see the gold tablet that reminded me of my own nature and my past: trip across space from Albemuth, the far star, migration to this world, to blend here in escape from our molelike enemy. That enemy had soon followed, and the garden we built had been polluted and made toxic with his presence, with his wastes. We sank into the silt; we became half blind; we forgot until reminded. Reminded by the rotating voice from the nearby sky, placed there long ago in case a calamity occurred, a break in the chain of continuity. Such a break did come. And, presently, the voice automatically fired. And informed us, as best as it could, of what we no longer knew. . .
Recurrent cycles, I realized, of coming awake for a time, then falling back into sleep. I had, like the others, been asleep, but then I had woken up; or, rather, I had been awakened out of my sleep deliberately. The voice of a friend had called to me, as it moved among the rows of new corn, new life, and I had heard and recognized it. That voice was always calling, always attempting to wake us up, we who slept. Perhaps eventually we all would awaken. To communicate once again with our parent race beyond the stars... as if we had never left.



cypher to The Message: 
Valis = Self
PKD = self
FFF  = ego

Sync is the messenger of Self. . . 
"There was a beauty in the trash of the alleys which I had never noticed before; my vision seemed sharpened, rather than impaired. As I walked along it seemed to me that the flattened beer cans and papers and weeds and junk mail had been arranged by the wind into patterns; these patterns, when I scrutinized them, lay distributed so as to comprise a visual language. "
— Philip K. Dick (Radio Free Albemuth)



Your circuit's dead, there's something wrong



... oh dear.



I think I (Doug) am ready to process some of the themes at which I've been looking. The latest curiosity for me is the relationship between The Self, with a capital “S" and God (with a capital "G"). 

To this end, I recently found myself looking back at a piece I did a million years ago that shared an author’s idea of "The Path” of life (as illustrated in the tarot). This “path” plays very nicely with my recent discovery of the “middle passage” (which is your moment on the cross, your transcendence from ego to self). The curiosity is how I'm reading P.K.D again who has described the process of awakening from ego to self in so many of his works. P.K.D might be our best communicator of synchronicity—of course these messages from "God" when viewed from the perspective of the finite, phenomenal individual tend to be seen as coming from "out there”.

(An interesting segue. . . )

A few nights ago I went to a reading by Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love—which I have not read). My goodness what presence she is. Amazing. She mostly spoke of her artistic and writing practice, but she did speak a little of her "journey". The fascinating thing she dropped upon us was an idea her teacher shared, which was, that one facing two different questions arrived upon the same conclusion in answering either one:        

What is God?

Who Am I?

So . . . . 
self is Self 
(I) (am) (God)

- And so what’s fascinating now is the resonance of ‘23’

Ch. 23 in Radio Free Ablemuth
Ch. 23 in The Shining

These strange attractors spell out a father/son relationship, but point to a deep and unbroken connection (to Self).

AT ONE Ment

Stephen King + P.K.D. might be two of our time’s greatest writers as far as being able to communicate allegorically the process of individuation—the journey of the “middle passage” from the first adulthood through to the second adulthood.

Recall, the garden is childhood. Then the serpent (666/FFF) introduces us, the children, to duality (two towers) that yields consciousness. Later, when our ego is sufficiently strong and possibly menacing (yet empty and seeking meaning), we hear the music in the forest and ride into the dark night of our soul to find self/Self, both our true nature and God.

Sync is the messenger of Self.

“though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. . .”




“. . . thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.”


And he holds a rod in his hands,
Beautiful, golden; and with it he spell-binds the eyes of men,
Whomsoever he would, and wakes them again too from sleep.
 (Homer, Odyssey, xxiv. 2)


I stood on a lofty mountain and saw a gigantic man, and another, a dwarf; and I heard as it were a voice of thunder, and drew nigh for to hear; and He spake unto me and said: I am thou, and thou art I; and wheresoever thou mayest be I am there. In all am I scattered [that is, the Logos as seed or “members”], and whencesoever thou willest, thou gatherest Me; and gathering Me, thou gatherest Thyself. ("Gospel of Eve")

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Everything Is a Remix

The idea for the title of this post came from an email convo with Eunus Noe.  It fit well with the ideas that have been swirling around in my mind lately. 

Synchronicity is throwing me for a loop.

I've been trying my best to come to terms with the fact that every book, movie, poem, or cartoon I've ever read or watched (or written, for that matter) is a retelling of the same damn story. 


The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, Moby Dick, 2010: The Year We Make Contact, X-Men, Thundercats, The Smurfs, Star Wars, Star Trek...etc., etc., ad nauseum...really all the same damn story.


Over and over again, whether through media or personal synchs, we seem to be reinforcing the same creation/disaster/dream/salvation memes to ourselves like a giant, shared subconscious post-it note.


For some reason we must remember these stories.  But why? 

I can see the patterns, but I don't necessarily recognize any specific, actionable event that the syncs are leading up to (at least not one that would satisfy my logical human mind)


I feel like a rocket stalled on the launching pad...waiting to GO.

I'm starting to subscribe to the viewpoint of one of my fav movies of all time...The NeverEnding Story


Maybe every unique thought we have keeps a World of Dreams alive in a parallel reality (and vice versa).

Maybe the darkness of The Nothing can only defeat us when we run out of new ways to retell the story.

Maybe the only reason we're not living in paradise on Earth is because there are not enough of us dreaming it.

Ultimately, Joe Chip learns that Runciter, in fact, was the sole survivor of the explosion on the moon, and that his messages to the group are the result of his attempts to communicate with them while they are in half-life. The regressing world in which they find themselves is discovered to be the product of Jory Miller, another half-lifer whom Runciter encounters earlier in the story while communicating with Ella. It is revealed that Jory devours the life force of other people who are in suspended animation to prolong his own present existence. Of the group of anti-psychics and technicians, only Joe Chip eludes him, aided by the substance called Ubik. This substance, whose name is derived from the word "ubiquity", has the property of preserving people who are in half-life. Joe Chip is instructed in its use by Ella Runciter, who is en route to a reincarnation.... 

Dick's former wife Tessa remarked that "Ubik is a metaphor for God. Ubik is all-powerful and all-knowing, and Ubik is everywhere. The spray can is only a form that Ubik takes to make it easy for people to understand it and use it. It is not the substance inside the can that helps them, but rather their faith in the promise that it will help them.... we can't be sure of anything in the world that we call 'reality.' It is possible that they are all dead ... It is also possible that they are all alive and dreaming." ("Ubik")
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