March, 2012


Mythic Prelude:

Circus Bus

Hail, and welcome to the Universal Festival Calendar for March, 2012. As I begin this writing on Feb. 26, I'm on a Greyhound bus in Greensboro, North Carolina, waiting to begin a journey to Charlottesville, Virginia. This takes about 3 hours as the crow flies or the car drives, but it will take us 12 hours. In Richmond, we'll do a kind of slow-cooked Chinese fire drill in which all the passengers get off, we wait and blear about for a while as the bus gets fueled and -- allegedly -- cleaned, after which we line up again, show little reboarding slips and get back on. Some of the other riders wonder, in those wry Southern black baritones that are used to pose ridiculous questions, how come they can't fill up the gas tank without having us all get off the bus.

It all makes sense to me, though, as I've spent years in the Third World, and have done many times the Cairo-Sharm El Sheikh bus security drill, in which we all get off, a couple of teenagers in army uniforms walk in a circle around us with a dog who sniffs at everything but our luggage, and then we all get back on again. The poorer a country is, or the more it rigs or bungles its distribution of wealth, as Egypt has for decades and America does now, the longer a simple task takes and the more intricate it gets, involving as many people as possible, including invisible ones like the Greyhound janitrix who somehow got aboard, cleaned the bus without having moved or removed anything, then disappeared without ever having been seen in the first place. And they tell us the age of miracles is over!
Riding with Raskolnikov
But all of this is still hours away. Right now, at 7:30pm in Greensboro, the bus is, as always, 30 minutes late. This time the hangup is not traffic, weather, physics, mechanics or human bozosis, but the intransigence of the people -- here as in the Middle East, they all seem to be women middle-aged and up -- who don't see why they have to move their stuff off the seat next to them so that another customer can sit there. The other passengers, who have been on this bus since God knows what town or time zone, and seem rhizomed into their seats like moss, are either patient or past complaining, and no one remarks that if their vehicle is going to be overbooked, it should at least be, by all that is right, an airplane. It seems best, yet again, to be as compassionate as one can. After all, this is the Russian novel of travel options, a Greyhound bus, where people carry their belongings in pillow cases and bootboxes. For all we know, the dozens of little plastic bags that the loud, tenacious woman doesn't want to clear away may contain everything she owns, and the seat that holds them may be for her, for as long as this ride lasts, the closest thing to home.
We're finally moving. It's almost 8:00, the lights are off, and I draft this in the dark on notebook paper aboard a rattling black box that may as well be from Raskolnikov's dream about the cart and driver in Crime and Punishment. The going is slow, as though we're being pulled by wheezing, sclerotic horses and bears. The ringtones on cellphones sound like something a blind accordionist from the steppes would put into the air, and I almost expect to see and strain to hear a babushka selling onions and kreplach, to get poked in the thighs and the buns by artless pickpockets with fingers like boards, and to be inspected at the next stop by an official in spitcurls and a comic opera uniform too preposterous even for Gogol.
I am on the road again, moving through what is literally night this time, from the bubbles of light I've just left behind at Santosha Yoga in Asheboro, and the fire circle at Locust Grove in Franklinville, where I guided last night a ceremony of breath and chant, dance and drums and Tibetan bells, water communion and intentions for the healing of Mother Earth, and the awakening and liberation of her people. Tomorrow I'll be in Charlottesville, where I'll do an astrology talk at the Quest Bookshop, followed on March 1 by the next big talk on my Inspirational Speaking Tour -- the schedule is also on Facebook.
A Little Rebellion
It's been 187 days since I left Pisac to fly through Cusco and Lima to New York and on to Seattle. I've done 44 events in 40 cities and towns by now, and I have talks in six more before I'm done, but this week is the emotional climax of the journey because I'm in the home of Thomas Jefferson, and I have the honor to speak at the library that bears his and James Madison's name, on the themes that were urgent to them and are to us again. Resistance to tyranny. The consent of the governed. The due process of constitutional law. The right of a free people to speak and to be heard, to assemble peaceably, to live free of religious authority and pressure. The civic duty to work together toward the common good in the ways Madison understood long before the heroic people of Wisconsin named their capital for him.
When Madison and his colleagues were crafting what would become the United States Constitution, one of the goals he fought most tenaciously to gain was a constitutional ban on "factions" -- the 18th-century term for political parties -- on the grounds that factional politicians would invest far more wit, passion and will in working to harm their opponents than in striving to serve their country.
The Aquarian Revolution chapter of Surfing Aquarius begins with Jefferson's famous opinion that "a little rebellion now and then is a good thing, and as necessary in the political world as storms in the physical." He is endlessly invoked now by those who see today's rising tide of political revolution as an inevitable, healthy trend that Jefferson would have approved, and would have risked his wealth and prestige yet again to advance and achieve. It is different this time, though. Jefferson also remarked that he'd rather have newspapers without government than government without newspapers. We might wonder how he'd respond to a time when we may soon have neither, and not just because regimes everywhere totter and crash, and under the onslaught of the internet, print media have their backs to the wall. As a product of the Enlightenment, living in an era of optimism when it seemed that every human mind could soon be opened to knowledge and ignited to win its liberty, Jefferson might have been astounded to see his countrymen now in possession of technologies that can bring all heaven and Earth into their sight -- yet unwilling to see, so blinded by intellectual pride and militant ignorance that they may as well be in a cave without the use of fire.
This is clearly changing, though. One conclusion that becomes inescapable, now that I've spoken to people in 40 cities and heard their stories too, is that people everywhere are bravely and passionately engaged in personal and communal scenarios of empowerment and liberation, no matter how corporate-controlled news continues to beat the fear drum endlessly, and try in vain to divide and scare people whose unstoppable cohesion and explosion of will can no longer be deferred or denied. It becomes unmistakably clear that the only way to remain negative-minded now, convinced that nothing is changing for the better or ever can, is to be stuck in one place, both physically and psychically, and determined not to see the evidence that is right there in plain sight, and excitingly in motion. One advantage of my being on tour, constantly hearing and seeing the true stories that will never get on the 6:00 News, is the chance to see that the truth is far more brilliant and compelling than most of us can begin to imagine. That's why we have the months of February and March 2012, when pieces of good news are like the clowns packed into the circus bus. We can be amazed to see how so many fun things can tumble out all of a sudden, many more than we'd believed possible.
Tumbling out of the Bus
The whole bag of lies may not be torn completely open, but it's now pouring out its secrets in a stream that looks like a hemorrhage to the controllers, but a fresh, cleansing flood to those who will be free. So many politicians and bank officials are suddenly bailing that a new Updated Bank Resignation List seems destined to appear every month now, even every week. Robert Zoellick has left, or perhaps been eased out of, his post at the World Bank. Two top officers have resigned at Morgan Stanley, and others are recently gone from the most important banks of Japan, China, India, Korea, the UK, Russia, Switzerland, Spain, Greece, France, Slovenia, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Pakistan, Iran, Ghana, Kenya, Australia, New Zealand and Nicaragua. Four Vatican Bank priests are now under investigation, Silvio Berlusconi has been charged in a $6 trillion bank fraud, and rumors swirl that by summer, Lloyd Blankfein will be gone from Goldman Sachs. Not only has the German president, Christian Ruff, just resigned over corruption charges, but the Prime Minister of Romania and his entire cabinet have resigned en masse. The trend is cumulative. The first of the bank resignations came last September, another in October, three each in November and December, eight in January, and thus far in February, 23 more officials have either resigned, or announced their intention to do so.
And no wonder, if the shocking bombshell dropped in the British house of Lords last week by Lord James of Blackheath is even a whiff of an indication. The story, as reported by Gordon Duff, senior editor of Veterans Today, is about an insider deal that began with an almost thrillingly illegal “off the books” transfer of $15 trillion by the Federal Reserve Bank of New York to HSBC (Hong Kong Shanghai Banking Corporation) London. HSBC then allegedly sent the money to the Bank of Scotland, which then reportedly “gave” the money to twenty European banks to use in "a highly profitable scheme of co-trading 'fresh cut' MTN’s (mid-term notes), generating trillions of dollars in profits over 3 years, none of which is shown on books, none has been taxed or has benefited shareholders in those banks." The deal involved Alan Greenspan, Timothy Geithner, the B--h family and who knows how many other players to be named later, in a scheme so huge in conception and slimy in its workings that Lord James is being attacked online for gullibility and general bozosis. Gordon Duff's article is still accessible, and there is little reaction to it, so that it's easy to wonder if the genes for outrage and indignation have somehow been excised from the collective consciousness, and that's why a story as big and bizarre as this evokes little if any response.
Nor has there been much ado about recent claims by the ever-alarming Benjamin Fulford that these matters and many others are part of a grander multiterrestrial scheme that involves the Committee of 300, the White Dragon Society, Masonic Lodge P2, US Neocons and megacapitalists, "satanic corporations" like Microsoft and Monsanto, the UN, the Davos World Forum, the Pentagon and other notable players, all involved somehow in what will soon lead to "a complete dismantling of the Khazarian banking monopoly." It is all supposed to come to its climax at the end of this month, as "The group that claims to have started the American, French and Russian revolutions state they have issued a March 31st deadline to the committee of 300, according to their spokesman 'Alexander Romanoff'."

Take a breath. Mr. Fulford has been called everything from a conspiratomaniac to a loose cannon to a canary in the mine. All one can do is wait to see how all of this plays out. While it is tempting to look askance at "reporting" of mysterious misdeeds on such an operatic scale, and you may rely as I do on Lao Tzu's axiom that "Those who know do not speak, and those who speak do not know," charges of extravagant alarmism directed against Fulford or anyone else do not nullify the truth of what has happened, and continues to unfold.

The bank resignations do keep happening. Despite all the ongoing "news" stories about up-and-down, in-and-out debt negotiations in the Euro zone, it is true now that Ireland, Portugal, Greece and Spain have all given notice to their "creditors" that they will not pay back bank loans that were made illegally through collusive deals between the banking cartel and the politicians it owns. It is true, as Kevin Zeese and Margaret Flowers outline in "The Agent Provocateurs in Occupy's Midst," that there is firm evidence of how US authorities have made extensive, concerted use of infiltrators and provocateurs against the Occupy movement. It is true that Wikileaks has just released a trove of five million documents about the American intelligence firm Stratfor, showing the global reach of its "web of informers, pay-off structure, payment-laundering techniques and psychological methods." Will these revelations be as impactful as the first Wikileaks bomb in July-August 2010, which did so much to trigger the Arab Spring? Time will tell -- and will likely tell soon.
Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Monsanto
At times like these, it's easy to understand why the Puerto Ricans have a proverb that "The wise mouse stays close to the ground." Yet there is exciting news there too, as governments, farmers and activists worldwide fight back against the activities of Monsanto and its objectives of controlling the basic substances and processes of life itself. The UFC visited this Frankensektor of the dark side in September 2009 in "Sowing the Wind," devoted largely to the efforts of agrarian activists in Peru to protect the lush biodiversity of their country against efforts by Monsanto to sneak its death seeds through customs and into the soil. Now comes a cascade of encouraging moves in defense of our crops and of Mother Earth.
In recent weeks Hungary has destroyed all the Monsanto GMO corn fields within its borders. France has won two major battles. Its supreme legal authority, the Council of State, has conclusively answered an intense Monsanto campaign of appeals and pressures by upholding a ban on MON 810 maize. And in another case that may prove far more influential by establishing a crucial precedent, a French court has ruled that Monsanto's Lasso weed killer was indeed culpable in the poisoning of grain grower Paul Francois, whose victory in this monumental decision will encourage similar action by many thousands of other farmers and Earth warriors.
How many thousands? 300,000, to be exact. That's how many co-litigants, from 83 groups of farmers, seed growers and retailers, who have joined songwriter, singer, poet and Farm Aid president Willie Nelson in bringing suit against Monsanto to stop its practice of suing farmers who are found to have any trace of Monsanto seeds on their land, even when the seeds are blown there by the wind from nearby farms.
The thrust of this action goes far beyond legal matters, important as they are. "Corporate control of our food system," Nelson claims, "has led to the loss of millions of family farmers, destruction of our soil . . ." He and his colleagues aim at nothing less than to Occupy the Food System, and to restore to the hands of the people the most fundamental of all rights, to live upon the healthy body of Earth herself and to work with her to sustain their families and communities. Here too, as noted above for the deadline delivered to the Committee of 300, the climactic date is March 31, when Judge Naomi Buckwald will render her decision on whether the case of Nelson et al. vs. Monsanto will proceed to trial.
Roll Over, Galileo!

Thrilling times. Unimaginably so, in ways we can explore in the months to come when I'm not on tour, and we're both not under deadline. At another time we can explore topics like structured water, and the amazing demonstration by Nassim Haramein that "Earth is not revolving around the Sun," in circles and ellipses as imagined for centuries by Copernicus and Kepler, Galileo and their descendant astronomers, whose two-dimensional models of the solar system imply that the Sun is fixed in its central position, and the other planets all revolve around it in regular, flat orbits. But as Haramein shows, the Sun is in motion, much faster than we imagine, and the solar system is not a set of concentric rings, but more a kind of moving cylinder in which the planets whirl through their respective helixes, in a design far more elegant and beautiful than anything we have yet dreamed.

What to do in the meantime, until we see what the music of the spheres must now become as the simple, Piscean Stairway to Heaven that we once thought might be there is, in fact, a mutable Aquarian Stairway Through Heaven, which our old linear expression "going round in circles" does not begin to describe? Finding the right sounds will not go amiss, as you know if you've read pages here before. This month the sounds of choice is the ineffably beautiful motet Hanacpachap cussicuinin, the first piece of polyphonic music ever composed in the Quechua language, most likely by a native musician, then published in 1631 by Juan Perez de Bocanegra.
Officially, the Hanacpachap is petition and praise addressed to the Virgin Mary. But as the first word of the title shows, it is really, like so many devotional acts and objects in Peru, a hymn to Pachamama the Mother, whose gifts are shown here in a few of the 600 varieties of tomatoes that grow in the Sacred Valley where I live, and to which I'll be delighted to return when my journey is done. The lines could as well be addressed to any abundant Triple Goddess in any place at any time:
O tree bearing thrice-blessed fruit,
O hope of humankind,
Helper of the weak,
Hear our prayer!
Time to sing it, to hold and send the songs of the Earth, and honor the limitless resurgent vitality of the Mother. Keep Holding That Frequency.
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