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Archive for the “Neptune In Pisces” Category

Christ_Consciousness__46661_zoomActivating the timeless code

And so it begins. On the day cursed by the Templars in honors of Jacques DeMolay’s arrest and subsequent death on Friday, October 13th, 1307, the final square between Uranus and Pluto initiates the last, major cycle of catalysis. Imagine the ward of planetary fields torqueing at angles of extreme disruption and potential, magnetic fields in dynamic collision, with Mars riding on tip of it all, whipping the celestial surge into a potent and dynamic field of transformation. This is where we are as we head into our own version of the Hadron collider, anticipating the Solar Eclipse, New Moon and Vernal Equinox all on one, burning day in the not-so-distant-future. Then, shortly, thereafter, a Blood Moon on Passover—are you ready for it? Even if you aren’t, well, it doesn’t matter. We’re all learning on the fly anyway in the post-history of the world that no one ever managed to tell you ended.

When I was back in Boulder last week, Jay Weidner surfaced a topic we had talked about before, briefly, that the world as we knew it did indeed change on 12/21/12, but not in the way that we could have foreseen. His premise (which I agree with) was the subtle, but pervasive awakening that is rippling through our collective awareness. People are getting wise. They are seeing the fracturing fractals of our pixilated reality. The world is on dial up and we’re fiber-optically connected into the grid of creation. There is a beauty and a danger to this potent epiphany, and that the world is an illusion and yet it is deadly real. We’re playing for keeps and yet we’re not. This is the sublime paradox of the liminal state. Read the rest of this entry »

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705px-Sousse_neptunePoseidon is coming to town

It’s been at least, three, maybe four years now, since we’ve all been feeling like the other shoe is about to drop. What’s that all about? Why have many of us been living our lives in some form of suspended animation? Why do most of us couch our hopes, dreams and wishes in some sort of calculated version of a very uncertain future? Oh sure, the ascensionists don’t have any qualms about the future at all, that is until their denial cannot hold up the fortress walls of their delayed expectations any longer. When that happens, all the darkness rushes in like icy black rivers pouring over the sandbags of their dream like encampments, unaware of their shadowy, emotional tides. When that happens all Hell breaks loose. Well, it occurred to me the other day that the reason why many of us feel this way, like we are on the verge of something cataclysmic or catastrophic is because we are officially in purgatory. We are not quite in Hell just yet and the promise of Heaven seems obscured by the heavy weight of this world. We are in a holding pattern, doing the best we can to raise kids, make love, balance the end of days against our 401K’s, counting each decimal to how much it will cost to live when we cannot do it for ourselves any longer. some of us do our best avoid dangerous foods, dodge the little plagues and breath moderately fresh air and clean water. It’s worse elsewhere. Make no mistake about it. If you think we have it bad here, you’re not seeing the big picture, not even close.

I have had this fascination with Chiron lately. A few posts back, I likened Chiron to False Flags and why they occur as they are an outgrowth of our inability to live authentically, and in that instance, others decide to imprint a reality upon us, usually based on some sort of crisis and an excuse for conflagration or the outright theft of resources and rights. Lately, over the past week, I have seen this manifestation of Chiron as the state of purgatory itself, the fluidic field of judgment, replete with all of our thoughts and actions, swirling in a miasmic ocean of karmic retribution and drastic outcomes.

When we deal with Pisces, we are immersed in the totality of all things. Most of the time, we hope (a very Piscean notion) that it is the spiritual, soul cleansing, deeply compassionate, cathartic and joyous version where our troubles are lifted from us by the great hand of grace and we are born again, renewed with eyes that see the truth, hearts that love and a tongue that will take no quarter when it comes to casting out anything other than the sweet grace we have earned by going through the Neptunian depths of suffering. That would be the classic, Christian version, circa Age of Pisces. But Pisces also offers up delusion, illusion and the turgid other.

Recently, the trident has made a stunning, symbolic comeback. It’s everywhere! On the tail of a jet, the hood of a Maserati, the guts of a skyscraper, the flag of a country torn asunder by war. It’s the devil’s pitchfork as personified by Poseidon’s scepter. Poseidon isn’t a sweet and loving deity that swims with dolphins and tickles whale bellies. Poseidon is a furious demiurge, every bit as angry, vain and violent as Zeus, except he lives underwater. :-). He is the God of the oceans and the oceans are the aqueous version of the underworld. While Pluto may be dwelling deep down, in the Earth below, Poseidon has the oceanic depths covered. The invocation of this deity isn’t one that is about immersing ourselves in the mystery of our watery origins. He is being brought forth and summoned to wipe away our historical legacy, perhaps and hopefully, metaphorically, but nonetheless, burying the last 2,000 years beneath a watery grave, just like what happened to Atlantis and Noah’s nonbelievers. That’s the game plan from this perspective.

So here we have two versions of Pisces in action; Heaven and Hell.

Lately, I have had Chiron right on my South Node, which is conjunct my IC, of course, opposing my North Node, conjunct my MC. This has been an incredibly trying phase as I have had to sort through deep, familial issues, watching them get played out holographically, often in conjunction with my son, a Pisces. Over the Summer, I watched him go through an intense trial and initiation of sorts with Texas baseball. His coach was just north of Atilla The Hun at times and he had zeroed in on my son as a scapegoat. Coaches do this. They find someone who might be younger or more emotionally sensitive than the others and work on him, push him hard so that the others can see what happens when they don’t perform or worse yet, buckle under the pressure. And my son took it. I watched, observed and did my very best to support him as I knew, we were both going through some passage of sorts. I kept his head straight and did the best to keep mine screwed on right as well. He got better as a player and tougher, more focused as a young man.

Just before we went into the playoffs, said coach was hitting hard grounders and one hit a divot, jumped up and smashed my son in the face, just below his lower lip. It hit him so hard that his bottom teeth went through the flesh. There was blood everywhere. Minutes later, we were in emergency and had five stitches put in. Two days later, he was back on the field, playing third base and saving a no hitter for said coach’s son.

Something had changed. Something had shifted.

You see, I had had a tempestuous relationship with Poseidon himself in the guise of my own father. His Mars in Scorpio was in my 12th House, the fury beneath the sea. And, through my legwork, I also found out that the coach also had Mars in Scorpio, also in the very same sector of my chart. So, in essence, he was playing the role of my father and my son, in this case, was me. I was the guide that wasn’t there for me during those turbulent times. All of this broke when of course, Mars had entered into Scorpio. We were all living out some kind of dream theater that if we were conscious enough, we could see the flicker of light cross the framed off cells of our lives, unreeling our past, seeing the movie for what it was, not what it currently is.

Fast forward to last week, The Super Moon, still effulgent and bold slipped into Pisces. I was back East, visiting family of course, on the Jersey shore, why not very far from a town called Neptune. Another chapter unfolded, one that is almost too dark and personal to speak of here, but suffice it to say, I was living out yet another chapter of my father’s life and legacy, through another set of players, this one however, directly related to me. And it almost felt like there was even a sense of temporary possession, like something which would occur in Candomble, and a spirit would enter someone, temporarily for some sort of appearance and perhaps even resolution. I felt the ghost of my father yet again, channeled by cheap grain spirits and an angry uncle. When I step back and look at these things from my own history, they are staggering in their potency and their immediacy. Again, the script is being rewritten, the movie re-edited.

With Chiron in Pisces, we are healing our souls. This is another layer to it’s mystery. As we do so, there is the feeling of a final judgement circulating through the ethers. Look around you for a moment. Events are being stage managed by lesser demons. In Ferguson they wear gas masks, kevlar vests, riot helmets and cruise through the streets on DHS purchased tanks. In Syria and Iraq, they wear Muslim headgear and go by ISIS of all names. In Ukraine, they are the modern equivalent of Hessians, soldiers of fortune. In Gaza, they are the IDF commandos. The planet is starting to catch fire. Theres’s talk of plagues and whispers of economic collapse. And we witness the death of The Fisherking himself, the symbol of Pisces for all time.

If you are lucky enough, your slate is clean or cleaner than most and you might not have to go through any of the psychic purgatorio that is sweeping the planet. However, if you are like me or the rest of us, the time has come to make piece with your soul and this isn’t always the easiest thing to do. A caramel latte at Starbucks and a little self talk won’t cut it. This is the time where we are playing for keeps and the quality of your journey, from this point forward, whether in this world or the next depends on how well you can navigate the straits and narrows of Chiron in Pisces.

Do your best to cooperate with the forces of Spirit and let it take you into your Neptunian depths, where you can re-emerge once again, re-born with both purpose and faith, healing the Chironic wound for not just you, but for the rest of us as well.

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Say hello to daddy.

I’ve been eyeballing “Prometheus” the latest sci-fi epic from the film director Ridley Scott–or at least the trailers. In the latest trailer, the lens opens up on a distant planet, where, theoretically, “we” originated from. At least that’s the early subtext based on explicit clues given in byte sized bits. Two, eager young archaeologists stumble upon a symbol that shows up in every significant, ancient culture on the planet. They put them together and voila! A map to the stars. Using their celestial cookie crumbs, the ship. “Prometheus” is launched to not only visit our planet of origination, but have tea with the gods that created us. And of course, that’s where everything goes to hell.

The opening shot of the latest trailer is an invocation of Neptune/Pisces. Look at the power, the force, the untamed nature of the off world water. Scott and company are summoning Piscean magic, drawing you in. Its fascinating that James Cameron, who is tied to the Alien series as the writer/director of the sequel to “Alien” (Aliens) was in the news recently, exploring the benthic zones of the Pacific Ocean. Cameron, powered by a high-tech, deep submersible sub was exploring the vaginal interface of earth and sea, where heat is life and life is pretty strange. Those azoic creatures were the inspiration behind Cameron’s evocation of Pandora. So we have a deep current of Pisces running though the alien channel.

The early returns of “Prometheus” besides the canny invocation of Pisces, is that the gods are coming back to Earth and they are pissed. This all dovetails with a plethora of the ancient alien script that is getting turned up in volume across all media platforms.

“Prometheus” is the latest meme in the model designed to not only convince us that we are indeed “star seed” but that the makers of our race are now amongst us. Its already out there and happening. That’s the sub plot of the Nephilim/Annunaki disclosure. That’s why there was such a heavy investment in “The Giants” and Madonna (Louise Ciccone) and the Super Bowl, blatantly occult, mind-fuck. Its to get you thinking not only about the possibility of this being the case, but when its revealed that they have never left and actually built the world around us, we will be asked to bow down before our makers.

Its a lie of course.

Now that’s not to say that we haven’t been seeded or visited. Doing a cross-cultural perusal of ancient civilizations and seeing how they sprung up, out of nowhere with advanced technologies, seemingly overnight, defies the casual, evolutionary arc of the ages. Those civilizations were injected with cultural steroids and no matter what some sources say, this was not the result of King Solomon’s nautical adventures amongst the dark skinned peoples of the ancient world. But I digress–back to the modern script.

Its also pretty clear that “Prometheus” is featuring another meme, one of some sort of alien/synthetic sentience that colonizes the human body. In essence, this alien breed is parasitic. It is the front screen projection of Morgellons and a host of other contagion we have yet to uncover. Bundle up a plethora of products that swaddle our water and food in plastic, and we are further altering our chromosomes and even sex type. The human species as we know it is rapidly becoming a quaint notion.

We’re mutating into something else and the early data is not encouraging. People are extruding bits of plastic shards, colored fibers, octagonal looking micro-chips and more from their skin.

This acceleration into synthetic humanity is also featured in another Scott film, the legendary “Blade Runner” where Rutger Hauer’s epic performance as the lead rebel of androids gone rogue, made him and his species seem even more alive and poetic than the so called “humans” personified by Harrison Ford.

Scott also whitewashed NATO’s major fuck up in Somalia and made war seem cool and heroic again in the massively decorated “Black Hawk Down” which might be the only film in history that featured two Scottish heroin addicts, magically transformed into Audie Murphys. Of course I’m referencing Ewan MacGregor and Ewen Bremner, who were shooting junk in “Trainspotting” before they were shooting muslims in “Black Hawk Down.” Film is a funny vehicle to get people thinking about things a little differently, if you move the players around, like toy soldiers, just a bit. Doncha think?

So here we have “Prometheus” getting ready to open, opening the floodgates of Pisces, pouring tales of cosmic superiority into our minds.

In the original “Alien” what we saw was unlike anything we had ever witnessed on the silver screen. It was an illuminist head job from start to finish. The ship, “The Nostromo” goes off course to explore a planet that might have some interesting properties on it. The ship’s captain, “Dallas” played by Tom Skerrit receives communication and data from the ship’s computer named, “Mother.” He accesses “Mother” in a soft, womb like setting. In the womb lies the egg and the egg will play a large role in Alien. The egg is the source of all life.

Edward Bernays did his best mind control with eggs. Back in the 50’s instant cake mixes were starting to get mass marketed but women were not buying them. They thought they were cheating and not living up to their feminine standards by simply pouring, adding water, stirring and baking. Sales for the new mixes were slow, so Betty Crocker hired Bernays to fix the problem.

After talking with a number of women, Bernays realized that they were being robbed of their feminine/domesticated purpose. So he advised Betty Crocker to add an egg to the recipe so that the women could A) Feel like they were actually making something and B) Were biologically connected to the symbol of the egg itself. So you see, the egg has an immense amount of power.

In “Alien” the womb/mother is synthetic. That is the first act of inverted meaning and reverse magic in the film. We’ll also see “Dallas” get offed early on. So much for the old Dallas “cowboy” saving the day motif.

Once they arrive on the planet where they discover the enormous “space jockey” (can you say Nephilim?) they are quickly introduced to row upon row of, you guessed it; eggs.

John Hurt’s character touches one and we all know what happens next; Enter face sucker! Now for the next act of inverted meaning and reverse magic, shortly after eating some food, Hurt begins to shake and shudder violently and then gives birth to the nasty little alien. Yes, here we have a man giving birth. Everything is reversed. The womb is synthetic. Mother is a computer. Men give birth. This type of confusion is intentional as it dislocates the psyche and allows programs and agendas to slip in. Its a technique as old as the bible and perfected by Shakespeare.

What happens next in “Alien” is mostly a haunted house flick in space with a little alien rape thrown in for good measure. The last man standing wasn’t even a man–its “Ripley” (believe it or not!) played by Sigourney Weaver. Here again, we’re seeing inverted meaning and reverse magic. Ripley has managed to not only stave off the alien, but also “Ash” a murderous cyborg that will stop at nothing to make sure the ship and the alien reaches Earth.

Ripley is the one that survives and saves the world. She is the futuristic, ass kicking G.I. Jane (also directed by Scott) in space.

At the time, Weaver’s character was lauded for her toughness and ability to transcend traditional gender roles. She became a feminist icon. Now, it seems more like early mind warping of familiar sex identities, which was a precursor for what was to come. Scott would do this again, with “Thelma (Thelema aka Will) and Louise (Luce)” and G.I. Jane with Demi Moore, who was raised in “Roswell” New Mexico. Interestingly, Scott also directed a short film called “Jonathan” which appeared in a film with other short films about children called, get this; “All The Invisible Children.” The production company of the film is “MK Film Productions.”

So getting back to the egg which hatched this trip down the celluloid rabbit hole, we’re just a few, short days away from “Egg Day.” The world’s largest fertility rite, performed over the world’s greatest death opera; Cue Strauss’s “Death and Transfiguration.” I always thought that someone would hit an absolute grand slam if they could make a chocolate Jesus, since it would one up the pagans by beating them at their own game, while making communion sweet and fun. Okay, communion isn’t supposed to be sweet and fun, use bittersweet chocolate, which might be even more appropriate anyway. However, I am certain that certain christian sects would demand that it be “white chocolate” instead.

Eoster, Easter, Esther, Astarte, Ashtar, Ash(tar) Wednesday and Esther Sunday. Lost in all of this is Sananda Emmanuel, Yeshua, the one that the astro-theologists want to murder and simply make a star or a man, depending on which lodge you want to hang in. In just a few short days, we celebrate the death and resurrection, the big selling point for all christians, where the hammer hits the nail so to speak.

I remember getting stranded one night out in the middle of “No Fucking Where,” New Mexico with a flat. I started walking down the road with my ruined tire and quickly got picked up by a father and son. He worked for the BLM and they hauled me about 15 miles down the road to a small town where he knew a guy that could open his gas station and sell me a legit tire. It was kind of a miracle.

On the way back to my van, he asked me what I did for a living and I decided it wouldn’t be good if I told him I was a tarot reader. So I told him I was a street artist.

Without pause, he launched into a sermon about Jesus and God and how God let his only son die as the ultimate act of love for mankind. I was saying to myself, what kind of father would do that? To me, that’s psychopathic and is frankly one of the reasons why we’re so screwed up. We’ve been led to believe that ritual sacrifice is not only appropriate, but noble, even divine.

Now according to Gerald Light, the guy that spilled the beans on the Eisnenhower meet and greet with the Greys, they dialed up a magical hologram that brought the crucifixion right into their midst. So if it went down like the Zetas not just said, but showed, then what really happened?

Many years ago, I had a revelation that during the crucifixion everything on the planet was imbued with a new energy. I saw it course through all things and give us the passport to higher vibrations and levels of being. All things were humming at a different rate from that moment forward and hundreds of atomic bombs could not change it, even if they could sucker punch holes through this dimension. The energy, the essence, the cosmic DNA is everywhere, if we could only steal ourselves from the endless distractions and terminal mind fucks.

As he ushered in the age of Pisces, the keys could be found in parables, but the real action was in the living testament that we could access the same source code he did, if we could only love and never abandon the truth. Everything else was piled on by middlemen, con artists and obfuscaters.

Bathing in the waters of redemption and higher knowledge does not take a towering intellect or the ability to interpret symbols and cast them upon the world. It simply takes an open heart and a discerning mind; “Be wise like serpents.”

Let’s bring this all full circle, with Dead Can Dance’s, “The Serpent And The Egg” and “The Host Of The Seraphim.” Have a blessed Libra Moon and rebirth of your own sacred and holy awareness as an infinite being, humble in the majesty and mystery of all creation.

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This has nothing to do with this post–just do the math.

I’m not the reincarnation of Edgar Cayce or Nostradamus, though it does seem like having those disincarnate bonafides will get you 30 to 40 minutes on the History Channel or Coast-To-Coast, whenever deemed necessary. Yes, I’m talking about David Wilcock and Louis (Louie) Turi if you haven’t figured it out. I rarely call out other writers, researchers and hosts, but I am compelled, no driven, no moved by a higher power to examine some of the things that hey have said and or reported over the past few days and weeks. There’s an interesting astrological thread that connects Wilcock and Turi, but I will save it for the end of this column. That’s called a tease in the biz. Now you can go to the end and say “screw you Phoenix” and find out what that connection is and why its important to the narrative, but then you’d miss out on all the juicy stuff in between. Let’s start with Louie Turi.

I met Louie for the first time in 1996. We shared space at the Whole Life Expo, his booth next to mine. I was doing tarot readings, he was doing astrology with his smokin’ hot young wife. I was just going live with the prophecy game and Louie had been at it for a while. I didn’t know much about him, but he gave me a reading (I paid for it) and told me one thing that made total sense; He told me that, “I needed meat–red meat.” He was right. I had been trying to be a vegetarian and I was cold and listless all the time. He didn’t know this, but hit it on the money. That night I had an organic cheeseburger and never looked back.

Louie also taught me about The Dragon’s Head and tail (ie the north and south node) and how they play a significant role in our energy and destiny. He taught me that the North Node was where it was at for this lifetime, and the South Node was where it was in other lives.

I have the North Node in Virgo in my 10th House and the South Node in Pisces in my 4th House. But the way that he described it, it was about the lionization of the North Node and the demonization of the South Node.
So in my case, Pisces was kryptonite. According to Louie, I needed to steer a wide birth from anything that looked or smelled fishy. Well, there was some truth to this. I had one Pisces girlfriend that ruined a budding career and another Pisces crush that led me to a hard night in jail. Needless to say, that after this confirmation, I dated everything between Aries and Aquarius, since the 12th sign had become my personal hazmat zone. So I got some solid info from him, which makes what I am about to write even more difficult.

I heard Louie on Coast-To-Coast the other night and I was sadly disappointed by what I heard. In fact, what I heard was downright dangerous.

I listened through his thick, irregular, yet oddly musical French accent talk about how the upcoming Friday (last week) would be, “A very stressful time that could be quite dangerous and that the police had to watch out for the bad guys out there–to take extra pre-caution.” He was talking about terrorists, implying that there could be a “terror threat” out there. When I heard that, it felt like Louie had turned into the Dennis Miller of astrology or what my pal Visible calls the “Christopher Hitchens Syndrome.” Essentially, its someone that changes uniforms in the middle-of-the game. Louie was backing the “terrorist narrative meme.”

I thought to myself, that it was a little shameless, because I know that he knows whats going on. He’s too smart. I may question his politics and his promotion of paradigms, but he’s not naive. Then, he went on a prediction riff and saw more financial and economic chaos for the US in the months ahead. Well, that’s not much of a reach. But then he saw things turning around and once the inevitable crash was going to occur, then there would be a re-structuring of the financial system that would be concurrent with the rise and completion of the “Freedom Tower” now known as the “One World Trade Center” which is essentially the new Tower of Babble, the stratospheric obelisk of the “One World” government.

Louie Turi was pimping out the “New World Order.” George Noory remained his passive self, never really questioning him about his predictions or illuminist predilections, for that matter, which is really the Noory way of things.

Then Louie pimped out his Cosmic Code special for just $24.95 for all “Coast-To-Coast” listeners and I wanted to take a shower. Maybe I could have swallowed his hard hawking (because everyone has gotta make a buck) if he had a little less elite suck in him that night. Maybe I could have glossed over his Ron Popiel astro-pitch, but I just couldn’t. Everything became a schtick for me at that point and no matter what I learned from him in that brief, yet very instructive reading, I just couldn’t take him seriously any more.

In my own peregrinations amongst the stars, I recently stumbled upon the key to the South Node or the Dragon’s Tail, which liberated my understanding of it, removing the negative stigma that I had absorbed all those years ago. As I sat in front of my computer last week, and spoke into it doing a reading for someone and later doing my show, I realized that I was living my South Node in a positive light. There, buried in my Fourth House (Home) I was engaged in mystic arts (Pisces) and broadcasting them to the world in an act of service (Virgo, North Node) in the 10th House. Which led me to my next epiphany.

Since the Nodes exist in opposition, I pondered the whole concept of the opposition, polarity and duality. I began to see the opposition as a loop, a circuit, once liberated from its 2D form. In 3D, the opposition becomes an orbit, or an ellipsis, where the energy and information flows without impedance. The opposition and seeing it in three-dimensional space is the key, THE KEY to integration.

In this regard, even Louie becomes part of my soul’s equation (more on this later, in the tease release). Now its on to David Wilcock.

I rarely talk about or reference David Wilcock, even though Alexa cites “Cosmogenesis” as the site most like mine. There’s a reason why. I have never fully trusted him. Its the whole Edgar Cayce thing. It was too much of a hard sell for me. If you don’t know it, Wilcock claims to be the living incarnation of Edgar Cayce. His story is twisted and synchronistic and a bit laborious. Now if he was Edgar Cayce, would Cayce have made such a big deal out of it? I am not so sure. But let’s say that the Cayce trip isn’t just a false memory inserted by some teen NASA space camp programming, it doesn’t make his work any more credible. Wilcock has been more wrong than Chaz Bono in a speedo. I can’t tell you how many times he’s predicted contact or disclosure and it didn’t happen. His credibility has been stretched so much, that Pricilla Presley and Joan Rivers are envious, and now he’s at it again, with the equally less-than-credible, Benjamin Fulford, claiming that there is going to be mass arrests of leaders, politicians, and bankers, by a third column group of guys in white hats. The arrests of the guys in the dark hats, will herald the dawn of a new age of economics and governance according to Wilcock. Curiously, he and Turi are essentially saying the same things; Things are gonna be great. There’s a gonna be a rough patch, but then it gets better, much better and each has their own version of a warm and fuzzy utopia restored. The synchronous timing around both of these perspectives is fairly interesting to say the least.

I’m not sure where Louie is getting his 411 from. Maybe he’s deriving it from The Dragon’s Head in freedom loving Sag, or he’s getting it like these guys.

Wilcock splashed his feel good over an interview with a whistle-blower named, “Drake.” Drake claims to be a deep insider and he has intimate knowledge that he’s passing onto Wilcock. Well if Drake isn’t just a duck that quacks, I say “hallelujah” and “huzzah.” David Wilcock, be like a broken clock and hit the right time, this time, finally, even if by default. David, all of your Edgar Cayce posturings, funny haircut and major league whiffs on past predictions will be forgiven. I’ll sing you and your oddball buddy Ben Fulford’s praises from that day forward, without fail, but sadly I am not sure that I will be forced to do this. We live in a time of false boobs, hope, flags and alarms. I’ll believe it when I see it on TV, because strangely enough, that’s when the revolution will be televised.

Okay, here comes the reveal moment of the tease. What do David Wilcock and Louie Turi have in common? Pisces. Wilcock is a Pisces Sun (3/8) and Turi has The Dragon’s Head in Pisces, which is where by the way Edgar Cayce (Pisces Sun) and Nostradamus also have The Dragons Head. Interesting eh? I’ve been writing and talking a lot about the intensity of Neptune in Pisces and Chiron in Pisces and how as a cultural influence, we’ve seen it manifest rapidly in the guise of Kony 2012 and even Trayvon Martin, forcing us to separate the projection and illusion from what we can at best discern as reality. Putting on the waders and muddling through the swamps of consensus reality is a heavy trudge at times because we have to use our own lantern of truth to light the way through humanities dark night of the soul. Its the work of the Hermit (Virgo), the wayshower and its something we all have to do on our own. Its so easy to step in line and follow others with the so-called truth, because quite frankly, we’re famished. At a soul level, we’re like malnourished children waiting for our bowl of rice from concerned missionaries piled high with bibles and leather bound redemption.

So when Wilcock or Turi or the new rage, John Kettler, the latest loose lipper sprung by Project Camelot, start unwinding fantastic tales, just take a deep breath and a step back, before you dive in.

So who can we trust? How much are we willing to surrender or suspend our disbelief? Take a good look in the mirror and you’ll find the source of all your epiphanies and revelations.

On another related, Neptunian note, an old friend, Piscean, Peter Darling just published his first novel, a real page turn of international espionage, intrigue, romance and cyber punk. Think Dean Koontz meets William Gibson. You can check out Pete’s book, “Winter Republic” at his website where you can find out more about him and it and order it solid or synthetic. I’ll have Pete on the show, sometime next week to talk more about “Winter Republic.”

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Papa don’t preach.

I’d been tracking the role of Freemasonic connections in the Trayvon Martin case, starting with Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, Louis Farakhan and even Spike Lee. In the newsletter, I had made a connection between Albert Pike and his end-time game plan, which would include the desecration of Christianity (Kony 2012 and the collapse of Jason Russell–with more to follow), WWIII (Syria/Iran) and race conflict and strife in the USA, something that Pike as founder of the KKK would know all-too-well. We can see the racial fires getting stoked in Sanford, thanks mainly to the aforementioned agents of chaos pouring gasoline on the smoldering beach fires.

Well, it seems like those fellows weren’t alone. Here’s Trayvon Martin’s father, “Tracy” clearly displaying his fraternal colors.

Once again, the mists of Neptune and Chiron circulate and swirl around the edges of our perception. Based on this, I am going to throw something out there that might seem radical. Maybe as radical as Jason Russell really being a christian. What if what was purported to take place between Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman didn’t really happen the way either party has portrayed it? Could we be witnessing some sort of scripted drama? I’m just putting it out there in the interest of the surreal nature of our times, at the risk of being sacrilegious, which I humbly apologize for in advance.

If indeed the official story is real and Trayvon did indeed die due to George Zimmerman’s gunplay, its a tragedy that still needs to get uncoiled with cool heads and open hearts.

The stakes here are clear and very high. The fuse of a nation has been lit by this incendiary event and we need to explore ALL facets and possibilities before we rush further and further into the rapids of judgment and mob justice in the twittersphere and beyond.

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The blonde version of Jason Russell

The other day, I was on the phone with Ellie Crystal. Ellie is legendary. Her site, CrystalLinks has garnered massive amounts of traffic since 2000. Its an eye popping resource fest on the scale of Whale.To and Ken Adachi’s site. She’s circumnavigated the universe of alternative research, esoterica and hidden history. She’s also a high powered, high priced psychic that has read for politicians, actors, bankers and housewives. I had never spoken with her before, but I reached out to have her on my show. After our ten minutes together, I felt like I had been handed a nice, warm, oatmeal cookie by the oracle. Ellie sounds like a less nasally version of Fran Drescher. After she figured out I was not her friend Ron, and that she didn’t like Human Design, our conversation went something like this:

Ellie: You’re from California, aren’t you? Like the Bay Area or San Francisco, right?

Me:Yep. That’s right.

Ellie:I can tell. You must be young. You have a young sounding voice.

Me: No, I’m actually 50.

Ellie:Well you have a youthful voice. Its not a bad thing.

Me: Well thanks I guess.

Ellie: I’m not into the California, Pacific metaphysics. Everyone out there thinks they’re going to the 4th or 5th or that we’re all ascending. I’m not into it. People in California are angry. Silicon Valley isn’t making as much money and the people there don’t have as much money now either. No one is buying their pot. I”m not into the Pacific metaphysics. Do you know what I’m into?

Me: No. What?

Ellie: Quantum physics. Its all a hologram. That’s it. Something is going to happen, 2012/2013 but its not what people think. Do you know what happens when the hologram is over?

Me: What?

Ellie: Its over. I used to do radio. I used to do BlogTalk. I got tired of giving people that were selling books all that free publicity. Just got tired of it. I dunno. I don’t think I can do your show. The notice is too short. I dunno. I don’t think I would be the right guest for you.

Me: Uh, okay. No problem. So do you still do readings.

Ellie: Yes, I still do readings.

Me: So if the hologram is going to end, why do you still do readings for people? Do you just read them for where they are in the hologram?

Ellie:. That’s right. Yes. You’d be shocked for who I’ve done readings for. Shocked. Celebrities, musicians, politicians.

Me: I dunno, maybe not..

Ellie: The other day though, I had this mother of two. She was a Catholic and she was having a very, very hard time. One of her children was not doing well and she prayed and prayed and prayed to God and somehow, she found me. She was very sweet. By the end of the reading, I was telling her about the hologram and she was very grateful. You have a nice voice. A good voice. You keep doing what you’re doing. You’re going to help a lot of people.

Me: Well that’s not why I called, but thanks for that.

Ellie: I don’t know, maybe one of these days I can come on your show if I have the time. You have my email now. I don’t like sending messages through Facebook.

Me: Yeah, its clunky.

Ellie: So let me know in advance and maybe I can come on.

Me:Okay. Thanks again. Take care.


I felt like I had melted through the floor of three paradigms in the span of ten minutes. At first I was someone else (Ron), then a guy from California (can you say flake?), to a guy that she wasn’t taking seriously enough, to someone that she noticed something in, to coming back around again by the end of our phone time and being open to being interviewed. I literally watched my internal script get unspooled before me and was then handed a warm, chewy, oatmeal cookie. In many ways, that phone call was my life condensed and ricocheted between three time zones and two satellites.

Who are you? I can’t take you seriously. Sorry. Thanks for playing. Hey, you know, you might be okay. In fact, you’ve got something to do. Well call me again and maybe we can do this.

It felt like I was having a socratic dialog in the holodeck with an aspect of my self externalized as Ellie Crystal over some brisket. But that’s how life is and has been over the past week. Things are unraveling, blending, dissolving, and merging. The Piscean bad cop (Chiron) and good cop (Neptune) is working us over. Boy is it working us over. Throw in some cracking Uranus in Aries and things are about to get very, very interesting. This is going to be a long post, so get some popcorn. We have a lot to cover here. Let’s start with KONY 2012.


That’s the browned version of Jason Russell above. Russell of course being the 51/50’ed (hey it happens to the best of us!) leader of Invisible Children. Where the hell did the Invisible Children come from? I mean, I’m pretty astute and follow a lot of tiny tremors before they start rumbling into foundation cracking culture quakes, but Invisible Children jumped right out of the void and into peoples living rooms without warning. All of sudden, there was Joseph Kony, the Osama Bin Laden of Central Africa. By the way, do you know what’s in Central Africa? Coltan, one of the most precious of rare Earth metals. Do you know what Coltan does? It powers things like cell phones and this very computer I am pecking out these words with. Do you know who has been granted substantial rare earth mineral rights in Africa? China. See where this is going?

Uranium and Plutonium get fired through the cyclotron of the stars, emerging as conflict in a media waged war and an assault on our perceptions, jamming our signal with false emotion, either triggered by fear or aspiration, the latter being the mode de jour, since fear has been played out and then sacrificed in the phantom Bin Laden. The appeal is not towards dread but possibility. In comes Jason Russell and the Invisible children, peddling slick and heart tugging narratives embedded with empowerment. Its another iteration of “Yes we can.” That’s the chorus. “We can stop wars.” Well apparently it might help if the bogeyman is alive. No one has seen Joseph Kony for quite some time and many Ugandans think he’s been dead for at least four years. If that’s the case, then what the hell is going on with Invisible Children or IC as in Imum Coeli or the angle/gate of the “fourth house.” Its interesting that IC push an agenda called the “fourth estate.”

The “fourth estate” is classically linked to the press or alternately as the proletariat or the voice of the proletariat. At least according to Thomas Carlyle and Edmund Burke. For IC, it is their training and indoctrination program where they bring in youth from around the country to spend a weekend with them and hear speakers talk on heady topics like “international justice.” They are indoctrinated into to a fairly strict regimen at places like University Of San Diego, where their fourth estate intensives are held. Kids can’t leave once they are there. But for IC, the fourth estate is not the press, but social media. Facebook, timelines, youtube, a fervent NGO that has the zeal of an evangelical agency without the spiritual iconography that goes along with such territory, like crosses, pictures of Jesus, Mary et al. Whacked out leader, Jason Russell (more about him later) is a sort of Christian. He describes himself as an evangelical visionary=dreamer and in fact has spoken at Liberty College, Jerry Falwell’s contribution to higher learning.

If you go to IC’s website, you can look at their staff, all fresh faced and scrubbed, handsome and attractive to. Its like distilling Christianity’s zeal without the messy dogma and doctrine, appealing to a call to action, a children’s crusade. Jason Russell is Peter Pan (stated as his favorite comic hero) rounding up a cadre of Wendy and Johns for flash mobbin’ social activism. His parents are the founders of “Christian Youth Theater” a national Christian theater group located in numerous cities across America. Jason grew up acting.

If you think there’s something culty about IC, well, you might be right. Who’s behind them? Where do they get the bulk of their funds? Its unclear, but I did trace some relationships back to The American Bible Society and Geneva Global, which is a non-profit equity fund that takes a $25,000 minimum to get into and then target your “donation” to specific areas of both need and growth. IC is also affiliated with “The Just Life” which seems to be the much more ecumenical branch of IC.

My question is, is why would this make such noise and news, before Jason Russell’s meltdown? Why were we force fed Kony 2012 without much vetting? Is it to create another bogeyman and justify more global excursions into Africa? Within days of it’s release, Kony 2012 was getting some attention from the true fourth estate. And then, we have Jason Russell’s epic meltdown.

Let’s step back for a second see this as yet another one-two Piscean punch. IC operates as a dual agency of sorts, funneling evangelical activists from “The Just Life” into IC, while getting secular kids to move more towards “The Just Life” through appealing to social activism and a sense of injustice via IC.

Its the vapors of Neptune, the mists of Poseidon, swirling, inspiring, conjuring, befuddling, deluding and in Russell’s case, denuding. He was found the other day, half-naked and babbling, vandalizing and supposedly masturbating in public in San Diego. Their fearless leader, Jason “Radical” Russell age 33 was arrested on Thursday the 15th (The Ides Of March) at 11:30 AM. Russell has been hospitalized and under observation ever since. T-Power a friend of the blog pointed out to me that “Russell” is one of the bloodline names of the Illuminati mapped out by Fritz Springmeier.

Another interesting, yet odd detail to this movie is Danica Russell, Jason’s wife. She’s now issuing statements on his behalf. I did a brief search on Danica and tried to find some photos of her or her and Jason and I only found a few pics of her. One was on Facebook and she is wearing beard with her identity obscured. I did however find that she was a member of a comedy troupe called “The Geese” that were based out of San Diego. One of their shows was called, “Mason’s Angels.” Hmmmmmmmm. Other than that, No Danica. But there was something else. Boy, was there something else.


One of the things that I noticed about IC is how good looking their staff is. They’re almost too good looking if you know what I mean. So I clicked on one the beautiful people of IC. Her name is Malorie Tull. She’s listed as the Program Director in Uganda. Her bio claims that she worked with the aforementioned American Bible Society and Geneva Global. She’s also listed as an actress, having a role in the 1999 indy film, “The Tube.” She’s also listed on as talent. Yes, even Christians can act. I get it. But when I went to Danica Russell’s page, I was very surprised to see that Danica has a friend named, “Jackie Tohn” who looks a helluva lot like Malorie Tull and guess what Jackie is? Yep. An actress and a singer. Just to give you an idea of how similar they look, I’ve posted side-by-side pics of them above.

One of them, the one one the bottom right was on the IC Tumblr page, but was removed.

What are we to make of this? Is there one Malorie Tull in Uganda and a Malorie/Jackie stand in? A double? A doppleganger? As an astrologer I can see this as more Piscean/Xtian drizzle and dew, but there is something else happening here. Its an unveiling. But what are we ultimately witnessing? IMHO, its that smoke and mirror jobs like Kony 2012 and IC are buckling. But who are they? Where do they come from? Who funds them and to what end?

Illusions under every name and faith are being challenged. Instant karma? Perhaps. Or maybe, just like Ellie The Oracle said, “The program is ending.”

Obviously, IC and Jason Russell have not been alone this past week. Greg Smith tendered his resignation from Goldman Sachs and then outed the culture as being toxic. Beyond toxicity, an anonymous, supposed staffer at JP Morgan has opened the vaults to the crypt of Morgan’s deadly programs. It was left originally at the US Commodities Futures Trading Commission (CFTC) website then pulled down. You can view the damning words over at site. He basically says that Morgan-Chase is throttling the price of gold and silver, which is cratering a lot of the middle class, who have moved into metals, both hard and papered. They’re artificially depressing the price, which means that people invested in the silver and gold market are losing money obviously, but it is also likely, that somewhere, someone is also profiting quite nicely off the shorts and falls. Oh and there’s more, much more, but I have to finish this post . . .

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Downside up.

I’ve been thinking about “The Poseidon Adventure” a lot lately as a planetary metaphor, especially as the heavenly waters of Pisces have flooded over us the past ten days. Just a quick re-cap. “The Poseidon Adventure” was one of director Irwin Allen’s successful disaster flicks of the 70’s. Allen capitalized on the traumatized spirits of the silent generation and their depression era parents by offering up campy worst case scenario films like “Poseidon” and “Towering Inferno.” Those two, along with “Airport” and “Earthquake” created the disaster elemental quartet. Gotta fear? Don’t worry, we’ll find the right medium to play upon it and scare the hell out of you. Traveling via plane? No problem. We’ll just stick a desperate old salesman on board with a home made bomb and blow the shit out of it. To this day, whenever I board a jet, I remember people being hoovered out the side of a Boeing at 20,000 feet from “Airport.”

Irwin Allen was the “Master of Disaster.” He was also at the controls of the campy “Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea,” “Lost In Space” and “The Time Tunnel.” The Time Tunnel was remotely interesting. Rumor has it that it was based on the Philadelphia Experiment. But I digress.

Here’s a few ruminations on the symbolism of Poseidon from a meta-Piscean perspective. The ship is headed from New York to Greece. As it steams towards Greece, it won’t take on any ballast (debt?) and is engulfed by a giant wave caused by an undersea quake. Since the ship has no ballast, it literally flips over. The vacationers are now living in an upside down world, where they have to get to the bottom of the boat, which is ass up to get out. See where I’m going with all of this? They are even led by Gene Hackman who plays a Catholic priest struggling with his faith. I can’t think of anything more Piscean/Chironic than this. And of course there’s that good old sacrificial element that gets play. How can we have a Piscean disaster epic without an imitation of Christ? Allen is an interfaith martyr maker though. Shelly Winters plays Betty Rosen, on her way to Israel to see her grandson. She too dies in the service of saving the survivors, falling to a heart attack after freeing Hackman, trapped in a submerged engine room.

But the idea here, the metaphor is, is that we’re living in an upside down world; Lies are truth. Security is freedom. Fear is love. War is peace. We’ve been turned upside down, ass end up. The only way out is through the bottom, not the top.


In my last post, I talked about the journey down the rabbit hole and the resultant shock and trauma that goes along with it. Well today, while half of the internet was rushing to the aid of Sandra Fluke, ready to stone and rack Rush Limbaugh, another, darker, more grim story emerges out of the crypt of certified child molestation.

In Ohio, an un-named man was arrested for molesting and pimping out his ten-year-old ADOPTED son, one of four children he had adopted. Two other men were named in this lurid tale of what appears to be covert enabling with an adoption center out of Texas. He was another pillar of the community type. Basketball coach, president of the Foster Parents Association. You get the drift. Amazing how they have not yet identified him, but they have outed two of his accomplices.

When Saturn moves into Scorpio, we’re going to see a lot more of this. A LOT. We’re getting a glimpse of it at the final degrees of Saturn in Libra; The ceremonial rape of innocence.

Go ahead, pile on Rush Limbaugh, whose Capricorn Sun is a more than able sacrificial goat, caught in the snares of today’s Cardinal T-Square. He’s a bully mashed in his pulpit, but as you vex and flex over the vain glories of a deeply misguided man, just remember, Jerry Sandusky is sitting at home, sipping the adult beverage of his choice while he faces over fifty counts of sexual abuse (when most of us would be behind bars) and is allowed to interact with children. . .freely.

The whole Limbaugh thing reminds me of the scene in Platoon where they find Manny, throat slashed and tied to a tree, down by the river. The maniacal Barnes, played menacingly well by Tom Berenger goes on a rampage in the nearby village and Charlie Company are desperate to take out their fury on someone, something, anything.

Its been three years since Obama was elected and the country has gone so far south that a lot of people need GPS to find their heads and pull them out of the collective asshole. Most people I know are unemployed or underemployed. These are whip smart people with college degrees and lots of solid, real world experience. They’re living on vapor and faith–an apt metaphor for the Piscean diet of etheric smoothies. Obama has done little to boost the dollar and bolster confidence. But that was the plan not necessarily his plan from the jump. The people that believed and trusted in him, his base, are really pissed, but they are simmering in a vat of denial. They’re angry at the Republican Party, the Tea Party, the Donner Party, you name it. They’re fucking pissed but they would never direct it at the party and the leadership that has brought them as much war as Bush and stepped on their personal rights and freedoms as much as any wretched ole republican would.

The two party dialectic has gone off like a time bomb inside of them, obliterating any loss of faith and utter disappointment. They want blood. They want a blood Rush.

Meanwhile, the right is just a little numb over the death of one of their stalwarts, a larger-then-life and “controversial” figure named “Andrew Breitbart.”


Basic birth time.

Its hard to get a read on Andrew Breitbart from a number of angles and perspectives. He was adopted. Irish by birth, he was raised Jewsih in a well off family in Brentwood. His father, Gerald, owned Fox and Hounds, a landmark Tudor-style Santa Monica restaurant that later became the punk rock club Madame Wong’s West. His mother, Arlene, was an executive at Bank of America in Beverly Hills and downtown L.A.

As a teen, he delivered pizza to the stars. Breitbart eventually wound up at Tulane University, where he stumbled through a degree in American Studies. His words, not mine. When Reagan was elected and Clarence Thomas did the perp walk, Breitbart had an epiphany of sorts, which led to the formation of a quasi-libertarian consciousness.

Being that he was adopted, getting the true birth time is nearly impossible. We know that he was born on 2/1/69. which would technically make him an Aquarian Monkey, which roughly translates into a world class shit disturber.

He shared his birth date with Brandon Lee, Rick James and Jani Lane, all three of whom now share death with Breitbart. Brandon Lee’s death, like his father’s (Bruce), is clouded with conspiracy. But there is another figure, who, like Breitbrart, also born on 2/1 that died a mysterious death at a very young age. That person is Jessica Savitch, America’s first, hard news reporter/anchorwoman.

In spite of her flashy. Farrah Fawcett-like looks, Savitch was a serious reporter. Her last assignment was interviewing the Italian banker, Roberto Calvi aka “God’s Banker” due to the fact that he did the books for The Vatican and some say, “The Priory Of Scion.” Shortly after his talk with Savitch, Calvi was found hanging by his neck underneath a bridge. This scene is played out by Heath Ledger in the film, “The Imaginarium Of Dr. Parnassus.”

Rumors have abounded for years that Calvi was a high level member of Freemasonry and the “Illuminati” and was going rogue. Savitch was one of the last people to talk with him. She and her boyfriend wound up in a canal after leaving a restaurant in their car. They both drowned.

It is rumored that Breibart has video of Obama from college that presents a very different picture of POTUS. In his words, “This time (election cycle) we’re going to vet him.” The caustic radio-talk-show host Michael Savage (not Savitch) has essentially said that “Breitbart” was killed by the Obama administration.

The Falstaffian (Sun trine Jupiter) new media pundit supposedly died from a “heart attack.” The latest coming out of the LA coroners office is that it will be weeks before they will release a cause of death. He was out for a night walk outside his house and that was it.

His last days were filled with irony and prophecy. Breitbart, Tucker Carlson and one of his buddies had dinner with Bill Ayers and Bernadine Dorn at their place on Super Bowl Sunday. There, over Korean short ribs and quinoa. Breitbart drank and joked with a silver-tailed-head of the hydra. He also alluded to 3/1 as the day that would set off some real fireworks. It was the day he died.

Astrologically, he literally had a killer Yod in his chart with the True Node in Aries at 1 degree and Chiron in Aries at 0 degrees, opposed by Jupiter and Uranus in Libra at 5 and 3 respectively. With his True Node in Aries at 1 degree, he wasn’t here for any sort of Libran supplication–that was the back end and in past lives. This life was about confrontation and will, With transiting Uranus sitting on both, he was ready to take some big risks–really big risks. Maybe too big for even a larger than life figure like him, especially with an explosive Uranus/Uranus opposition.

Not one to shy away from confrontation, he re-tweeted every single nasty tweet sent his way. He reveled in being reviled in a way that only someone with that Aries TN could handle and absorb the heat from.

In fact, his chart is marked by opposition(s) (nine in total). Venus (Pisces/29/Anaretic) opposed both Uranus and Pluto in Virgo. He was shocking and he had enemies on both sides of the left/right dialectic. While Breitbart was a red, white and blue conservative, he had a streak of pink running through him. He was on the advisory board of GOProud a GOP gay group. He also supported the “Homocons” at the American Conservative Union in 2011. Like a good, radical Aquarian, he delighted in yanking chains on both sides. He was a cosmic agent provocateur of sorts. I didn’t know him personally, but I know he had four kids that he loved dearly and I know that there are some liberals that have publicly delighted in his untimely demise; Bad form no matter how you slice it.

On the flip side I heard some conservative talking heads on the radio this morning, goading callers into labeling the troubled Nadia Lockyer a tramp, trollop, slut, you name it. Lockyer is the 30ish wife of 70ish Califiornia State treasurer and lifelong pol, John Lockyer. Nadia has the hundred-yard prison stare and harlequin grin in nearly every photo. Its the same kind of goofy, Stepford look that Sarah Palin, Clarissa Gingrich and Cindi McCain sport. She’s obviously unraveling from some kind of programming, flitting in and out of rehab, hooking up with an edgy tweaker. One moment they’re lionizing Breitbart, the next they’re sticking voodoo pins into Lockyer. This is why we’re hurtling like Mr. Toad across the ecliptic. People on both sides of the phony dialectic are pissed and they’re taking it out on each other. Oldest trick on the planet. Just remember what Yeats once said; “The worst are filled with passionate intensity, while the best lack all conviction.”

Say a prayer for the good folks in the cyclonic south and mideast. The New Madrid needs some rest.

Goddess bless.

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