Howling Time

The dragon’s breath hangs low upon the land and an unnatural chill grabs people by the throat, then the lungs. It settles there under the camouflage of thick mucous walls, morphing and mutating faster than the body can hunt it down and deploy it’s overtaxed, white blood cells. If flushed out, it finds it’s way down to the stomach, where it creates the swamp-like environs it can luxuriate in and remain just a step ahead of the body’s ability to eradicate it. It’s not your garden variety virus.

In the early middle ages, during the time of the great plague, people would witness something very similar to the sinister figure of death, the grim reaper himself, replete scythe. Now what’s interesting about these eyewitness accounts of the grim reaper, is that it was also reported that there was a mist coming out of the scythe. You see the scythe might have actually been an instrument of death.

In William Bramley’s, “The Gods of Eden” Bramley makes the case that when human spirit and achievement begins to reach some concrescence, that some type of plague, famine, or war wipes out millions of lives, either directly or indirectly. The Black Plague (and there were other plagues–see Byzantium) along with both world wars of the 20th century, the great depression, and other, massive broadsides against humanity have always pushed back on the development of the species. This can also be seen in the story of the great flood, which has been translated into numerous myths and tales across the planet. One of the most famous of course is the great flood in the “Epic of Gilgamesh” where Enlil has decided that the creations of Enki have become much too uppity and wipes the majority of them out.

As the first Full Moon of the year arrives, it illuminated the shadow of it’s opposite, the dark mass of seething, subterranean fury, yes, I am talking about Pluto in Capricorn. The full Moon in nurturing, life giving Cancer reflects back upon it. In essence, we can see the circumstances of our own demise being deployed via the massive, planetary dispersal of chemtrails.

The Full Moon in Cancer is instinctual. It knows without intellectualizing and as it gets closer in orb to transiting Jupiter in Cancer, it’s magnetic properties expand and increase. The Full Moon in Cancer is our emotional gate. It is the dam or horrors, the viscous swamp of the daily theater of the macabre where the homeless get beaten and tazed. It’s the unspoken embers of a race war manifesting in the cruel sport of the “Knockout Game.” If we haven’t completely lost our capacity to feel, if our heart hasn’t been cast in a silicon glaze by the pirate polymers and nano arrays, we are close to overflowing point, that’s if we can still summon the angels of grief in our service.

While I was on FB, I spotted this, a story about two planes spraying a thick amount of greenish fog over Miramar Beach, in California, a beach I used to run on when I lived on the coast.

In West Virginia, over 300,000 people have been deeply impacted by a spill, perpetrated by the ironically named Freedom Industries, which mistakenly dumped 7.500 gallons of a toxic chemical used to process coal. This had an immediate impact on the citizens of Charleston. It’s the power of the Full Moon in Cancer shining down upon the careless practices of a Plutonian agency. Chiron in Pisces is the toxic effluvia of fracked waters, our spiritual essence poisoned, our communities ransacked for wanton profit. If you haven’t noticed it, the gas, coal and oil industry is booming here in the USA. We used to go to third world countries and snatch their precious fossil fuels and ores without much regard for the natural surroundings, communities and lives. Well the United States is the new third world. Here in Texas, newly sunken oil rigs rise up in the suburbs, slurping up the crude, 24/7, gears turning, floodlights blinding, as if none of it is out of place. The residents have no recourse. They were shut down by a circuit judge, claiming that the oil company has as much right to the land as the home owners. Zoning is a quaint notion.

Read the tea leaves.

These are the operations of scavengers, the final front of industry in the US, where there is no future, no tomorrow, no planning outside of the Logan’s Run green zones, where Mercury lights will hum and glow in the silent dusk of American history. Outside, out there, the once sacred lands of the Nez Perce, Comanche, Arapaho, Algonquin, Hopi, Sioux and Menominee, the sprawling suburbs and the graveyards of prosperity are pumped and fucked out of the lubricious essence that glides across the tectonic plates.

This is what happens when jobs go away and the middle class gets a little too smart, a little too turned on, a little too hip and wise to the game. When that happens, out come the nearly opaque C-7′s laying down the checkerboard skies, the thick and gauzy drip of milky spew, the dripping jet flu.
This Full Moon is the emotional barometer that something is deeply out of balance and it sets the tone for the entire year. There’s a growing awareness that’s rising, but it’s not a mental understanding, or some conceptual comprehension of the danger of our times; It is the deep, primal, inarticulate stirring in the heart. It’s no wonder that this Full Moon, the first of the year is known as “The Wolf Moon.”

The rubicons of trust, faith and good standing have been crossed.

To hear my interview with geo-engineering expert and chem trail tracker, Dane Wigington, please click HERE.

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4 Responses to “The Cancer Wolf Moon Shines A Silver Light Upon The Dimmed Winter Skies”
  1. Thank you for the wonderful post. And I really enjoyed your interview with Dane, put a lot in perspective. Highly recommend it for anyone who hasn’t given it a listen.
    Thanks for all you do.

  2. Your brilliance is at times just a little bit overwhelming, with all sorts of wordy orgasms focusing the spiritual realms making manifest. Hallelujah :) ‘Ooh Lord Jesus it’s a fire!’ The heavy grieving gravity of it all feels like a wet bale of wheat straw if you know what I mean. Recognizing the resonating astrological inter-plays reminds me I do not have to carry alone the weight of it all. There is a beautiful swirling universe outside my bedroom window longing to come into reconciliation alongside little ol’ me. I think I will make it through this by paying attention to the two breaths, the in breath and the out breath, being patient with myself and communicating authentically with others. That’s my game plan moving forward for now. Guess what, when X moves over there my O knows where to go to not let X steal my joy!

    Midnight full moon in the bath tub, I read the following from Women Who Run With the Wolves,
    ‘She tells Death he is welcome at her hearth,
    that she has loved him through all my crops bursting, and all my fields falling,
    through my children borning, my children dying.
    She tells him she knows him and that he is her friend.
    Thou hast caused me great weeping and dancing, Death.
    So call out the rounds now! I do know the steps!
    To make love, if we are to love, bailamos con La Muerte, we dance with Death.
    There will be flowing, there will be draining, there will be live birth and still birth and yet born-again birth of something new.
    To love is to learn the steps. To make love is to dance the dance. <3

  3. You are welcome.

  4. Just beautiful.

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