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Archive for the “2010” Category

EarthYou are here.

The Goddess moves in her own time, her own way. The feminine face of God is as mysterious and untamable as the earthly form. It starts with benediction and atonement. Then the ablutions begin, a series of gut-wrenching and chakra-popping communications. But slowly, the wheel turns and the balance of the heart begins to move in circular motion, cyclical in Venus, gliding backwards into the sacral region of Scorpio, where power gets played out and the volcanic fires lap around our throats, spitting fire and invective, unleashing the pent up magma of emotions from other times and places. Then the cooling process takes place and new land is formed out of the salty brine that contains and encircles us all. Slowly we reclaim, regain, retain the pieces we’ve given away. Scorpio Mars is the vulcanic machinery, the fiery engines of Haphaestus that forge new vehicles of emotional expression. No one is exempt now. The great clearing is upon us and perhaps much, much more.

With the death of The Gulf, we have come to the symbolic end of the Piscean age. Millions of dead fish do not transmigrate into loaves of gluten-free sprouted wheat for the masses. They are unceremoniously dumped in land fill zones, not far from the aquatic haven from whence they danced with the currents, flirted with tides. Piscean heroes like Pensacola Gregg are defamed. Kindra Arnesson is ravaged by disease. Matt Simmons is dead. Michael Edward must have the most bad ass angels on the planet getting his back as he continues to enlighten and endure. These are not times for the faint of heart. Read the rest of this entry »

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maryOpen arms

I just turned fifty. Two days ago. Autumnal Equinox. In the lead up to my birthday, I took a sauna at my favorite place, a Finnish styled space in Albany. Closest to a sweat lodge I’ve found in the confines of a city. I decided during the sweat that I wanted to start the next fifty years with as much of a clean slate as possible.

For personal reasons, I’ve felt fairly blocked on the blog front and have had to work through some issues to get clearer. It hasn’t been easy and the radio program has afforded me a bit more anonymity during this phase. I decided to address a few issues to see if I can get clear, especially since Saturn is camped out in Libra and will be crossing over my Moon, Mercury and Venus in succession. So here is my attempt to reconcile the energy so that I can move forward. I hope it comes out as clear as it did in the heat of the moment when it flooded my brain cells at 115 degrees.

Some months back I made a connection with a kindred soul whose blog and content was similar to my own. We made a very fast connection and our work began to rapidly intertwine. It was potent and dynamic. As we developed a professional relationship, we also forged a personal one and exchanged feelings. We made plans to see one another which did not materialize and in fact became the pivot of our relating or lack thereof. What happened after that was an unraveling that quickly had us decamped in archetypal corners. We became manifestations of one anthers projections. I transformed into the enemy, the new age sheep in edgy wolf skins. She became my own, personal version of Kali.

Many years ago, I remember reading something by Robert Bly. He talked about how archetypal energies get acted out in relationships between men and women. He called these energies, “giants.” The biggest challenge is trying to deal with these energies from a personal perspective. It’s like trying to stuff a dwarf star into a three-bedroom-condo. We have been at an impasse since and I want to clear it up.

As Saturn lurches closer to my Moon, I seem to be more motivated than ever before to reconcile my relationship with women and my inner feminine aspect. The death of my father has also accelerated this process, leaving me to get to know a mother I never felt very close to–life loves to serve up these delicious ironies–I was far closer to my father. Now, here we are together.

In the months since my father passed, I have had to facilitate the sale of personal property for her as well as finding her a new home, movers etc. I am it seems, in service of the goddess.

With Venus and Mars in Scorpio, I feel it is incumbent upon me to get as clear as possible. To that end, I want to apologize to all the women of the world, the spirit of all women and the great feminine of God almighty for any unconscious, programed and robotic moments I’ve been learning through in this lifetime and more. I have been a better man at times than others and I have also done all I can to learn from my mis-steps and mistakes. I know that I have already been forgiven, but a virtual confessional can go a long ways. Is this self serving in some regards? You bet it is, because I want to get unstuck and be as free as I can be. So to my talented and passionate friend fighting the good fight and to all women and feminine energies of creation, throughout and in all things, I offer you all a heartfelt apologia. Read the rest of this entry »

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142d4e70-7f16-4919-b83c-7004f72a9ea8_pier

I’ll be on Michael Edward’s Net Radio show today around 11:15 PST/2:15 EST. We’ll be talking about the Gulf and astrological cycles that will be playing out over the next 1-2 years, leading up to 12/21/12.

Michael has been tirelessly working to get the truth out around the Gulf, particularly, the toxic quality of the air and water, which Michael claims is leading to the “Blue Plague.”

Living Light Radio

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fantastic_planet“We already have the means to travel among the stars, but these technologies are locked up in black projects, and it would take an act of God to ever get them out to benefit humanity. Anything you can imagine, we already know how to do.”

(Former Lockheed Head and B1 developer, Ben Rich on his death bed)

It’s recently come to my attention that we have been little more than a slave race. How’s that for a post MR opening line? Thought that would get your attention. While I was mostly, radio silent over MR, I revisited material that I’ve buried, only because the implications are too vast and broad to really comprehend. Also, I have been adopting the Native American position of asking myself, “But does it grow corn?” In essence, if it does not lead to some sort of practical solution, what good is it? I mean if I told you that our version of consensus reality is little more than a virtual program, constructed and influenced throughout what we call history by sources of intelligence far greater than ours, and in fact that those same sources even had a hand in shaping our biology, not once, but perhaps through three different epochs, would it help you pay your mortgage, get a new job, work for less money and more hours than your last one? Would it build a better and stronger bridge to you and your beloved, crafting a love that lasts a lifetime? It’s doubtful. And yet, it’s these strange and uncomfortable scenarios that I keep returning to time and time again.

Whether it’s the late Bill Cooper’s detail rich story about the evolution of modern ET contact that took place in the American Southwest, mostly during the Eisenhower presidency, or Michael Tellinger’s unearthing of pre-antidiluvian civilizations and cultures in South Africa (we’re talking pyramids and glyphs) to the strange tales of The Dogon, to Lockheed head, Ben Rich’s deathbed confessional that aliens are real, we have their technology and not only can we go to the stars, but we already have, there is a serious disconnect and breach in the world.

One of my favorite movies of all time is a somewhat obscure, French film called, “Fantastic Planet.” It was adapted from the novel, “La Planete Sauvage” it is a parable for our time of sorts. There are two species occupying one world. One race is a species of alien giants, with superior intellect and technology. The other is a race like ours that is kept like pets. However, while the pet race might appear to be domesticated, it has a wild side. A rebellious side. One that won’t settle for being kept on a leash. Eventually, the giant race is threatened by the increasingly aggressive behavior of the diminutive little upstarts and starts spraying the air with drones that seek out their hiding places, where they mate and reproduce and an alarming rate. The little people are tenacious and clever. They find a weak spot in the alien life cycle and they exploit it to their advantage. They turn the tide and hold leverage, thus ensuring their safety and the safety of future generations. They achieve a form of peace, not through appealing to the higher instincts of the masters, but because they had neutralized a very important aspect of their lives. Leverage.

psychlos

In L. Ron Hubbard’s glorious mess, Battlefield Earth a similar dynamic is in play. Earth has been invaded by a race of technologically superior giants, known as “Psychlos.” The “Psychlos” are code for “Psychos” and Hubbard was basically telling everyone that earth is run by a race of alien psychopaths that promote psychopathic betrayers of the home team. These psychopathic betrayers in turn become the leaders of the so-called free world–captains of industry–heads of state. The psychlos know they are foul beings and instead of pretending to have some higher, more ethical standard that regulates their more base impulses, say like religion, they practice a sort of nasty game theory, where holding leverage over someone lends power and control. If you’ve got leverage, you’ve got the upper hand and as a result can more or less dictate terms and conditions. This is a stark assessment of the current human condition, but it is one that more and more people are grappling with as resources on both a personal and a collective level are truncated, held back and reapportioned. During difficult economic times, leverage is even more powerful. Read the rest of this entry »

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captain_skyRide, Captain, ride.

Looking Up

The clouds, like a herd of mute behemoths
Dancing to an invisibly intructed rhythm,
Burnish the horizon’s azure sombrero
With images of determined impermanence,
Leaving readers of the sky who
Look for more than signs of weather,
An atlas only of the imagination. (The Capt.)

One of my favorite Fleetwood Mac songs of all time is “Heroes Are Hard To Find.” It’s from the period where they were less critically acclaimed than the early, psych/blues of Peter Green’s leadership of “The Mac” and certainly far less commercially successful than the Buckingham/Nicks version, but the repertoire is fascinating and in my estimation, more compelling. Bob Welch was the lead songwriter during that phase and penned jazzy odes to UFOs, the Bermuda Triangle, and Future Games. In “Heroes” Christine McVie’s voice is a thing to behold. It’s the top of song that gets lost in the pop cannon of later tunes and the mythology of the older ones. Occasionally this happens to people as well–getting lost in the cathode burn of our current celebrity obsessed culture, and faux giants of other times. The life of the common man is rarely recognized or celebrated as being heroic.

Just as the calendar flipped from 1999 to 2010, I lost a friend who had been DJ’ing at a gig in Los Angeles. His name was “Jim” and he was mad about music. I would see him almost everywhere Stephen Kent played. He was a single dad with a young teen daughter. He lived/worked in a home with troubled youth and was their shrink, guardian and surrogate father. He was the avuncular sort that you never minded having around, always in good humor, always re-framing in positive shapes and language. When I was in exile in San Geronimo, I used to hang at The Flatiron with him and watch football on the big screen.

I last saw him at a Christmas bash in Santa Rosa in 1999, where of course Stephen Kent was playing. He was leaving his state funded gig at the home due to declining dollars and wanted to get a reading for the new year and the next phase of his life, just right after he got back from DJ’ing in LA. I never saw him again. He passed on 1/1/00.

When I went to his memorial, I was stunned by how many people were there, how many friends he had, how much of an impact he had had on so many lives and it dawned on me that outside of his circle Jim was a phantom, a ghost trapped in time, but inside, he was a true hero, someone that changed lives . . . for the better.

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WHDF-Cliff-Diving-World-TourWings and Prayers

I’m feeling a lot like Otis Redding (Virgo) in his posthumous hit, “Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay” during Mercury Retrograde. I’m pondering the whys, wherefores, whats and whens of my life and this blog. The path that I started out on, nearly two years ago when Sah (Immanent deity of Orion) Ra (Egyptian sun god) Palin entered the election, coming from seemingly out of nowhere, just as Barack Obama did. I did Palin’s chart and my stats went through the roof. I didn’t look back. Over the course of the past two years, I covered everything from Albert Pike to Lady Gaga and have done my best to wrap it in a blanket of stars, meaning that there was usually some sort of astrological through line. The blog has become part of an awakening process for me as I hope it has been for you, but I am not sure how much more I have to say along these lines, especially as it relates directly to astrology. Mercury in my own sign, retro has me reflecting on the meaning of it all.

Last night, I spoke with Katie Gallanti and she and I were in agreement that so much has transpired over the past two years and the awakening process has become viral. Here on the day of the Pisces Full Moon, I read a piece by Dahr Jahmail, the terrific journalist from the Middle East. He traveled to Mississippi and spent time with shrimpers who not only refused to go out on their boats to catch toxic shrimp, but held their own press conference, called for the resignation of Dr. Bill Walker, the head of Mississippi’s Department of Marine Resources for lifting the ban on shrimping and fishing. Their first hand accounts of sea life trying to out swim toxic waters is riveting. They are indicative of eyes opening wide across this country and world. Nearly ten years ago, a good friend kept me at arms length when it came to my “crazy” ideas. Fast forward. He’s that guy now. The great awakening is taking on a momentum of it’s own.

As the sleepers arise from their trance-like-slumber, I’m thinking about the next phase, catching the next wave. Once we’ve awakened, what can we do?

When I was young, I had a deeply romantic and naive vision of enlightenment. Occasionally, I still do. I thought that enlightenment was the key to true magic and the conscious application of man’s and God’s will in a perfect execution of integrated energies for truth, beauty and service. I still think this to some extent, but what I never quite factored in on the enlightenment side of the equation was waking up to the horror of the world and the attendant suffering, then deconstructing the architecture of the invisible prisons that we inhabit, how we got there and who helped erect and stand over them. That’s the not-so-fun side of waking up.

There’s the initial rush, you know, the one where you get to live in a Robert Anton Wilson epic for a while and then realize that it’s just another step in the process, a seductive Bardo that can yield some really surreal and juicy nuggets. There’s a high that comes along with it. It’s the inverse of solving light’s riddle, but comes with the attendant giddiness that “you’ve figured something out.” There’s plenty of black diamonds in that mine, trust me. But my wandering soul is restless again and I’m not wholly satisfied with discovering that Barack Obama might be the son of Michael Rockefeller and Cleopatra. After a while, uncovering more illusion only begets more illusion.

Perhaps this is the dialectical dance between my Sun in the 10th and transiting Pices Moon in the 4th. I’m doing my best to ground the arc between the spark of mystical unity and the practical tools of building a better world than the one we allowed to go to hell. Part of me wonders if it’s even possible at this point? I’m considering surrender as the most efficient move-letting go of all my strategies and systems, letting the flood just crash over me. I’ve been here before. I know it. I feel it.

On the other side of letting go is a sense of freedom and release that I can only begin to articulate. The dynamic push/pull between the Sun and the Moon is creating a tension, a torsion, a bi-polar magnetic field that holds the flux of possibility.

The Pisces Full Moon wants us to get cozy at a cellular level, while the Virgo Sun wants to know if it’s a phillips or a flat head? The Pisces Moon is full credit in faith, diving head first into the ocean of oneness, swallowing duality whole. Dick Cheney and Tony Hayward are merely dark angels on the road to redemption. Aware of the depths of the darkness, the Pisces Full Moons beckons immersion and trust. The Virgo Sun wants to make sure that you’ve got a map for the backroads out of town, a tent, sleeping bag, water, a couple of weeks of food and tank full of gas. This is kind of where I’m at. An uneasy station on the cross. But I do know this–there is plenty to live for. I’ve had glimpses of a very different world coming our way and trust me I want to be there. Surrender does not mean giving up–it’s more like giving away.

It’s been a while since I’ve done some Full Moon Scopes, so in the spirit of giving practical form to the numinous, here’s some light bon-mots of astro-advice for each sign over the next 24/48 hours.

Read the rest of this entry »

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trioRetro
Sometimes when it’s Mercury retrograde, I just want to go into one of those Lascaux styled caves, or maybe a kiva up in the Taos Pueblo and just hang out with some clean water and bushel of fresh fruit, nuts and seeds, but since I’ve already been in a cave-like setting for the last two weeks, it doesn’t really play out that way. So here I am, fire walking across the pit of Mercury Retrograde. It’s already hit. My guest for tonight canceled. Oh well, that means I’ll be doing live mini-reading over on the BlogTalk side of things during MR. Should be interesting. Maybe I’ll go into the future and work backwards for people.

I’ve been thinking abut cinema and what films really portray MR in the truest light. I came up with three that really communicate the essence of MR and two of them are time travel films. Let’s start with the first.

GROUND HOG DAY

Can anyone think of a film that is more MR than the Bill Murray classic? The scene where he drives off the cliff with the stolen Phil has got to be one of the top ten comedic scenes of all time. When he punches Ned in the face, is a close second. Murray had had a string of minor hits, but nothing like Meatballs, Ghost Busters, Stripes or Caddy Shack. That was Bill Murray (Virgo) in his zone. He went off road to try some zen comedy in Somerset Maughm’s classic, “Razor’s Edge” but Murray and the quest for truth only made sense if you were up away too late in a hotel in Miami on acid, but that’s a whole-nuther-story. “What About Bob” was a minor Murray classic. It wasn’t until he was able to channel all that smarm and charm into the cynical feature correspondent, “Phil,” the same name of the celebrated ground hog from Punxatawny. The rumor is that Harold Ramis, The Director, modeled “Groundhog Day” after The Strange Life Of Ivan Osokin which is about a man that gets to live his life over and the same results happen, even though he supposedly makes different choices. The whole concept of “free will” is examined throughout Ouspensky’s novel and eventually gets a workout in Groundhog Day as well.

groundhog_day

Ramis’ film is about a time loop that gets played over and over again, until Murray can master the art of letting go and serving. This is critical, because once he’s able to realize that he is stuck in a loop, he begins to manipulate reality based on his foreknowledge of events. It works until he tries to seduce the pretty producer played by Andie McDowell. Once he is in the realm of the heart, his manipulation of time and space fails. That’s when he has the epiphany of being in the moment and serving others instead of self. MR, especially MR in Virgo. Read the rest of this entry »

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