Flight of Geese and their “New” home.

The view of sky sweeping over the hill makes it much easier to see the great flights of geese heading  south for the winter. Twice a week in the daytime, and once at night, large flocks have passed over. On each occasion, w can hear them inside the house, then rushed into the yard. The geese seem to be more numerous on cloudy days and clear nights.

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One late-afternoon gaggle reached nearly from horizon to horizon, in three long and very noisy V-formations. And always, one bird led each V, with the two sides of the bird ‘lettering’ trailing back quite unevenly–wobbling, flexing, shifting. What free sociable claques, I thought. Amazing, the way their honking carried back to me. I watched the geese fly toward the hills on the far side of the valley; I could still hear them even when they’d become practically invisible.

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In its Way the nighttime visitation was even more mysterious, for that time I looked up at a starlit nut moonless sky that didn’t have a cloud in sight–and heard this multitudinous sound moving across it. The night was chilly. All of the qualities of the birds’ flight were heightened for me by its very invisibility, for while I actually saw no geese at all, that sound was everywhere. And what guided, innate knowledge–or what? And I knew that no objective reasoning processes alone could explain their magnificent flight.

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Some how the twice-yearly, north-south migrations of the geese have become symbols for me of the known and unknown qualities of life–sublime and indecipherable at the same time, enduring yet fleeting, and almost outside of the range of human events. For me, those migrations have become portents of the seasons and of the earth itself as it swings around “our” sun in great rhythms. The one consciousness (mine) stands in its body on the ground and looks up at the strange variations of itself represented by the geese. And wonders. In their own ways, do the geese wonder also? What kind of hidden interchange between species take place at such times? If the question could be answered, would all of reality in its unending mystery lie revealed before us?

 

ESP: Is more developed or consciously available in some individuals than in others.

But so is a “gift” for music, or baseball or whatever. I find it difficult to believe that many millions of people must wait for a handful of their “superior” peers–philosophers, scientists, psychologists, parapsychologists–to tell them it’s all right to believe in at least a few of the inner abilities that each of us possesses, to what ever degree. Obviously, numerous individuals simply refuse to wait for the official light or recognition to shine forth.

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That wait could be a very long one. Who is to help initiate meaningful changes in our psychological and social orders? Surely many people feel the necessity to turn aside from the selected dogmas of our time. Our world present definitions of personality are so limited as the conventional meaning implied by the term ESP.

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Science is “objective” enough in its own terms of serial time and measurement, as it claims to be, but that eventually it must choose to look inward as thoroughly as it does outward. To me, much of the turmoil in the world results from our steadfast refusal to accept a major portion of our natural heritage. We project our inner knowledge “outward” in distorted fashion; thus on a global scale we thrash about with our problems of war, overpopulation, and dwindling natural resources, to name but a few.

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Each of us chose such a course at this time–but now, I think, a time of imperative change is necessary if we are to continue our progress as a species. A new blending of inner and outer consciousnesses–a new, more meaningful coalition of intellectual and intuitive abilities–will be the latest step in the process of “consciousness knowing itself.

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There are bound to be significant clues as tho the nature of the human animal: creative clues that can’t help but enlighten us in many–and sometimes unexpected–ways.

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Consciousness is more than encompassing enough to embrace all that we are, and everything that each of us can even remotely conceive of doing or being. Try as we might, we’ll not exhaust or annihilate consciousness: Whatever we accomplish as people will still leave room for–indeed, demand–further ramifications and development. And in the interim we can always look at nature with its innocent, spontaneous order to sustain us. We can at least observe, and enjoy, the behavior of other species with whom we share the world.

Reincarnational, counterparts, and probable selves, and families of consciousness, suggest the varied complicated structure of human personality.

Also hints of the invisible psychological thickness that fills out the physical event of the self in time.

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Following an intuitive and inner organization rather than a linear one, would arouse the creative revelatory characteristics of the psyche. The psyche’s deep resources evolve into timeless material. Like being reckless in the pursuit of the ideal.

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No one, whether that individual is a psychic, a mystic, a writer, a poet, or even if he/she combines all of those qualities, can encompass all of the incredible differences within the human species. It’s up to the multidimensional, multitudinous, over for billion multinational individuals on this planet to follow their own intuitions and seek answers in their personal ways.

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We have much to learn about our inner and outer worlds that once an attempt is made to discuss those large issues, a host of questions arise.

 

Expand the function of any family group, or cut it down, by deciding how precise oneself would be.

If one family deals with the nature of healing, then we can slice it down to the healing of a toe…an ear…an eye.

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The categories [healing, teaching, or whatever] are general descriptions of the families of consciousness. We can split them up also and make further distinctions, if we choose. we can cut those divisions down. They merely represent interpretations that we can understand in our reality. In the most mundane of terms, some families are travelers, and some prefer to stay at home.  characteristics of consciousness as it is embarked in physical form. These group are not set up as divisions, but to understand that consciousness is diversified–that usually each of us falls, because we want to, into a certain family. And there we acquire friends, alliances, and counterparts.

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Besides the physical relationships that each of us know, therefore, we have other brothers and sisters, mothers and others, on a psychic level; and to that degree, we are not alone. If we do not like the families that we have, we have others to choose from.

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Families fall generally into certain groups. In greater terms we can “cut the pie” however we want to, but we will still share an emotional and psychic feeling of belonging with the family of which we are part.

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Each of us may often come together, forming a counterpart relationship when it suits our purposes.

 

We’re so used to thinking that our encounters with others are caused by chance…

Except for those we purposely bring about through choice, such as marriage partners. Yet, second thoughts make us question old assumptions; Granted the existence of counterparts to begin with, certainly their common goals, though differently expressed, would bring them together when possible. The same would apply to any group. So beneath such gatherings there would be hidden dynamics, psychological activities that could explain the behavior of crowds, political parties, and so forth.

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An individual reactions to a given idea or event can vary tremendously, form the most withdrawn behavior to the most explosive.

“SHIT” and “SOUL”

We apply the term in a derogatory manner to ourselves, and think: “I am full of shit.” And where does the great spectacular reality, the physical reality of our earth, spring from? Why is shit not considered sacred and blessed and glorious? We think of shit, unfortunately, as the antithesis of good; and when we play around it or with it, we think we are being childish at the best, and wicked at the worst.

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A child sits, perhaps three years old, with his finger stuck up his ass, feeling the shit that warmly runs down, and that child knows that shit is good. Then, give him credit!

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We think that the soul is a white wall nothing written upon it, and so our idea of sacrilege is to shit upon it, not realizing that the shit and the soul are one, and that the biological is spiritual; and that flowers grow from the shit of the earth. And in a true communion, all things of this life return to the earth, and are consumed and rise up again in a new life that is never destroyed or annihilated, though always changing form.

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So, when we shrink from such words or such meanings, why do we shrink? Because we do not trust the biology of our being or the integrity of our soul in flesh. We are people. We are made of the stuff of the earth, and the dust from the stars has formed into the shit that lies in piles–warm piles that come from the beasts and the creatures of the earth. And the shit fertilizes the flowers and the ground, and is a part of it.

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This does not mean that we should use such a word to make other people uncomfortable.

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Our soul and our flesh are wedded together. One is not “better” than the other: Both are good. Both are, and we are both. The heritage of the earth, in our terms, is ancient and yet ever new, and when we write, we write with our intelligence and our wit. Yet if it were not that we shit once or twice a day, we would not be writing anything.

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Yet when we laugh, we laugh because we still think the word is beneath us, and we are being sneaky or smart-alecky–or we think I am–by speaking so freely.

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When We say “soul,” we do not snicker.

 

 

Why isn’t the whole world reverberating with fantastic ideas?

How many people? Very few would take this amount of their camouflage time to deal with it. A peculiar set of abilities and interests is required for like this to be even partially successful, or accepted by the personalities involved. For many it would be difficult to maintain discipline and balance, while allowing for the necessary freedoms that are involved. That is, this is a controlled  experiment, allowing oneself certain freedoms of control in some instance and not in others. This is no easy trick.

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The slow accumulated body of knowledge has been taken into various religious and doctrines that have grown up about it until it is almost unrecognizable. Bits of it appear here and there, scattered, distorted, and misleading. It comes naked, and everyone must put clothing on it. This means it usually ends up as either nonsense armored dogma.

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Knowledge needs personalities who are not fanatics along any line–including scientific fanatics who would object as forcibly to the reincarantional data as religious fanatics would object to some of the other material.

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All religions are distortive. For that matter, much of our science is distortive. Both arrive at approximations, at best, of reality. Religion has been the cause of much prejudice and cruelty, but the bombs over Head are not caused by the Catholic Saint, Teresa showering down any roses. Science is apt to turn into another religion, if it has not done so already. The distortions in science and religion have been truly disastrous. Any fanaticism is vicious, one-sided, and limiting, causing an alarming shrinkage of focus that is explosive and dangerous.

The difference between probable realities and reincarnational ones.

According to our intent, our desire, and our beliefs, our ideas intersect with the reality that we know, with physical space and physical time– they become real, in historic terms. In other realities there are different historical terms. A war won here, with a treaty, is not won someone else, and there is a different treaty. Even wars seemingly won here are not nearly as clear-cut as would appear; we make history as we go along. We rewrite it as we go along. As records are lost, we do not even realize that we have rewritten the past.

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It does not serve our species’ purposes at this time to work with the mind–with telepathy, with feeling for the earth that we could have developed.

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We could have developed very well as a super-human. People chose to develop in a very different way. Therefore, that world-probability in which telepathy and clairvoyant would have been common, well-known facts of life, self-evident in any civilization– that probability became latent while the species followed another route.

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There are points, where probabilities meet: intersections with space and time that occur in our minds while we change directions, where new probabilities that once lay latent suddenly emerge. And in terms of our civilization and our time, such a time is now.

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There is no knowledge, however! See what our mind learns from the words. See what we learn that is not in the words. Hear, because many of us like the sounds so well, the insects creeping across the forests of Europe and Africa. But hear also the voices of acknowledgement of our living cells as they grope and grow in the sacred continents of our own physical energy. See the oneness, and the ancient newness that is never repeated.

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One sentence repeated is not the same sentence that it was before. One breath is not another. We are never repeated, and what we know is always new. Because we know it, and because we are the one who knows it, it is never what another one knows. So all knowledge is public–and scared. And ancient and new.

The rocks cannot speak words that we hear, and we do not listen when our cells speak to us. The archaeology of our own being.

Castles of our past and our future, and the mental civilizations that are our heritage and our birthright. hear, then the fossilizing within our spirit speak.

When we learn to communicate with the gracious ease with which those primitive people communicated, then we can call ourselves civilized.

As a member of the human species do we indeed see ourselves as supreme flower of history so far, yet when we can know what is going on clearly and concisely on the other side of the city, and communicate it also, then we will be as primitive and as civilized as some of those primitive people.

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Esoteric history has nothing to do with the people.

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The experience of the guru who sits in opulence, bejeweled and be-gowned, has nothing to do with the migrant worker who works in the field and whose belly is empty. And so it has been through the centuries.

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In our terms, our histories were not written by people who worked the earth. They were created by the priests and the elite, who made up their own histories to suit their purposes–to hold down the masses. Those histories never spoke of the vast, massive emotions and needs of the human beings involved, who listened, because their hearts and survival depended upon their doing so, to the voices that speak within the earth that your instruments even now cannot perceive. Those histories did not tell of the human beings who had to know what insects would crawl of fly from one end of a continent to another, so that they could be captured and roasted and eaten. They did not speak of the human beings who had to know what migrations of animals would roam through their land–and when and where, and at what phase of the moon–lest they starve.

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And so those people lifted up their minds and hearts and heard the voices of the earth speak to them, as they still do. The elite did not hear those voices. They wrote histories in which in their own memories they annihilated races of people with emotions as strong as real as theirs. The elite leave us records and methods, telling us of kings and queens, of gurus and prophets and gods, in whose eyes the masses of the people vanished. They learned techniques, but the techniques did not bring them magic, did not allow them to really hear and understand the voice of one leaf.

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So forget all of the histories, and listen to our own thoughts, which are today alive and vital as those of any man ever born, in whatever time. Forget the dusty old records and feel our reality in the movement as we are. In that moment can we hear the insects sweeping across the continents and the voices of the leaves speak, and feel their echoes in our blood– and that blood lives, beyond the time. It throbs beyond destiny, even as the masses of those people live beyond the beliefs of those gurus.

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The vitality of our present being, and the authenticity of oneself.

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The most sophisticated and the most primitive,with combination of the English words, in our terms, are understood by the proud intellect that rises above the shoulders so securely. Yet the sounds upon which those words ride are far more sophisticated than the language of which we are all so proud. For they are indeed the sounds of insects through the centuries,of stars swirling through the universe, of the blood pound through our veins.

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Not to bow down before gurus and histories More has to do with the mass beliefs that people chose at various times, and the different roads that were taken in our reality. Any road taken in our reality should–but does not–tell us one thing: By the very fact that we have chosen a particular road, we can be sure that other roads, entirely different, have been taken..

 

The “Brotherhood of Man,” or the Brother-Womanhood of Women

At any given time, the population of the earth is made up of counterparts. So when we kill an enemy, we are killing a version of oneself. For as we are members of  a physical species, we are also members of a psychic kind of counterpart reality; and this membership straddles races or countries, or states or politics.

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We form our history. We form our reality, and so no one is thrust into a position which first was not accepted as a challenge. So we work out our problems and challenges in whatever way we choose, historically. Identities intermix with others who may seem to be strangers, but others who speak with our own voice, others who communicate with us in their dreams as we communicate with them. We have comrades, and we come to this earth at a given time and place of our choice, and so do we reap and form the great challenges of our age.

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But the world is not filled with strangers, and so we get glimpses of counterparts of oneself who lived, in one particular era. In deeper terms that era still exists, and that is something we should not forget. For as we view a painting and it has a frame, so do we view the centuries and out separate frames around them.

Much could be written about the ageless conflicts the individual feels between society’s demands and his or her urges toward personal freedom. It seems to me that no matter what role in any life the individual decides upon before birth, that individual will carry consciousness’s innate drive toward personal expression– but still within the protection furnished by social organization.