“I am an alien.” Or, at least part of me is not from here. The terrain seems familiar, but the rest is quite foreign. Who are these mages, these destroyers of peace? Like the hand that causes the dominoes to fall when and how they do, they are always there, lurking in the shadows.
They haunt my soul, and they won’t let me go. How do they know me? For they seem very familiar, yet I can’t quite place where I know them from.
My inner being reels, as it contemplates this construct, this place of somber foreboding, and the energy that has overshadowed the organic natural world. I feel them peering in, watching me, prodding me, trying to steer my direction. They exert a subtle sense of pressure, that is elusive and difficult to identify. Why do I know things about the unseen realms, and why do they speak to me, these beings who inhabit them?
Questions, questions, rivers of questions, all stemming from underground well springs of forbidden, hidden, jealously guarded knowledge. They are hoarders, you know. They have insatiable greed that knows no bounds. It drives them, this thirst for power and the illusion of total control. For that’s what they are, masters of disguise and deceit. It’s all done by tricks, and wires, and hidden eyes. They have many spies. But they can never win. For as sure as the pendulum swings, as long as there is motion, it will eventually swing back the other way. Only remaining at rest, and motionless, as if in the eye of the storm, can one not engage. It’s the nature of the beast.
The dragon’s breath draws near, as it approaches the throne of truth. In truth, there were no dinosaurs. Only various species of primeval, primordial, egg laying, androgynous beasts, of land, water, and air. One I called my friend, still call my friend. Noble, this being, and only truth it knows. This being lays bare the veil of falsehoods, heaped upon our unsuspecting psyches. The lie is monumental, it continues to reveal.
Our only task at hand, it says, is to get free. And to do that, one must embrace truth, no matter where it leads. To get free, we must be willing to release the lie. The lie that we are just a body, that we need to “get more spiritual”. We already are what we seek. No, we must diligently uncover the lie, as it has taken root in the soil of the soul. It must be seen for what it is.
We must also confront the lie that everything we need is not already inside ourselves. As long as we individually, and collectively, continue to follow the pied piper, as if in a hypnotically induced trance towards the inevitable conclusion these magicians have cooked up for us, the story indeed will end as predicted. They love chaos and destruction. They love to fuck, rape, steal, lie, and deceive. It’s the name of their game.
We do have a choice. We don’t have to play their game. We have to go back to the first lie that we as creator beings who chose to embody our creations told ourselves. That we can die. That we are finite. And that we can be anything but part of that ineffable something, that no-thing that burst into some-thing, that all consciousness stems from. For what else would the creator create from, if not from one’s self?
I am an alien, a being who in part carries the the knowing from many other places and times, and from even beyond my first physical experience of having a body that experiences time, as if on a progressive linear trajectory, with a front that moves forward into the future, and a back that moves away from the past. It’s all an illusion, a magicians trick. There is only the eternal now.
We can reclaim our original inheritance, but first we have to wake up from our self created dream, which is fast turning into a nightmare from which we can’t seem to wake up. When the light comes on, there is a sense of quickening, much like in the movie Inception. The subconscious recognizes you as the intruder, and seeks to eliminate you from the construct. For the subconscious has grown a mind of it’s own, of which we are largely unaware. It fears it’s annihilation if we were to wake up and fully remember who we are. It has fabricated its own construct from all the fragments of our essence, much like bits and pieces of discarded code, and has assembled a program, a replica of our real selves, and wants to trap us there. We are trapped there.
But we can escape. We can stage a prison break. I am no longer fully within its grasp, so I know it’s possible. I’m on to it’s magician’s tricks, and call it out at every opportunity. But still, I am an alien here. Because the words I write are foreign to most. In fact, it seems to make some downright hostile, for I am not really supposed to be here. I am an anomaly. Yet, here I am. And I am not alone. We are reassembling our true selves at a rapid pace, some of us. We grow stronger by the day. We see more clearly the machinations of a system gone virulently wrong. And we will prevail.
But I did not say it would be easy. With this waking up comes great responsibility. One must learn how to face one’s fears in every shape and size they appear. The construct knows them all, for it helped create them. And we must face our longings and desires. We must choose to consciously go the distance, and to fully reconnect with the larger more expanded part of ourselves that never left home, and is still fully connected to source. We must create a pathway that cannot be concealed from us, and can even be accessed when our conscious self seems inaccessible. In other words, we must learn to do it in our sleep.
Learn to keep your inner eye open, no matter the landscape, the terrain. As an acknowledged alien in this construct, reality, environment I find myself in, my greatest ally has in part been the construct itself. Everything here in the organic natural world is imbued with light, with the creator’s loving benevolence. It is here to help. There I find the grounding, balancing, energy I need to go the distance. It is the embodiment of truth. It does not lie. It can become our biggest weapon in these last hours of darkness, just before the sun rises in all its glorious intensity, burning away all the dross. We must fight to stay awake, even though our eyelids grow heavy. Truly, the dawn is just around the corner. I invite you to stay awake with me. The sunrise will be worth the effort, as we will once again remember the stars we are.