Explorers of Higher Dimensions: The Power of Active Consciousness

Explorers of Higher Dimensions:

The Power of Active Consciousness

By Amy Lansky

At each moment of time—the Now—you stand at the gateway to an infinite number of possible futures in higher dimensional space. This gateway is the Choice Point.

Some of these futures are more likely to occur than others. If you do nothing, one of these probable futures will play itself out in a fairly predictable, even mechanistic way.

But as a conscious being, you also have the ability to affect how the future unfolds. Your experience of this ability is the sensation of free will.

One of the ways you can exert a force upon this unfolding is to use explicit action. Another way is through the subtle force of Active Consciousness, which allows you to enable unlikely unfoldings to occur.

According to the Columbia Encyclopedia, a field is a “region throughout which a force may be exerted.” Back in the 1800s, chemist and physicist Michael Faraday developed this concept in order to explain the mysterious properties of magnets. People at the time were perplexed by the way magnets could exert instantaneous forces upon metal objects when nothing seemed to be transmitted between them. Faraday hypothesized that magnets are always emanating an influence or force; we just can’t see it. And because a magnet’s sphere of influence—its magnetic field—is ever-present, it seems to exert a force instantaneously, without any form of physical contact or obvious mode of transmission.

…Fields can also be related to one another. For example, the magnetic field is related to the electric field because electricity can be used to create a magnet and a magnet can be used to create electricity. For this reason, the two fields are actually considered to be aspects of the same field—the electromagnetic field. … [One] important question in modern physics is whether all fields are, in fact, interrelated and aspects of a single underlying field—a unified field. If so, this field would form the foundation for all the others. And one interesting thing about the existence of such a field is that, for the various physics equations to work out mathematically, at least ten spatial dimensions would be required.1

So how does consciousness fit into all of this?  If you think about it, consciousness might also be viewed as a field—a region in which the force of consciousness is exerted. For example, when we become “conscious” of something—when we feel aware, when thoughts pop into our minds—perhaps we are receiving and processing information arising from the field of consciousness. Just as we perceive the gravitational field as a feeling of weight or as the sensation of falling, perhaps “awareness” is our sensation of the consciousness field.

Things might go in the other direction as well. Not only may we feel the effects of the consciousness field, but we might also be able to exert our own forces upon it. In other words, not only may we be receivers of consciousness, but we may also be generators. Just as a magnet can both create a magnetic field and be influenced by the forces of other magnets, consciousness may be both a field we are affected by and an active force that we can exert. Instead of being puppets buffeted about by the field of consciousness that surrounds us, we may all be active participants in a grand ballet of energy, exerting our own active forces of consciousness into the mix.

Of course, from the standpoint of quantum physics, much of this is old hat. It is already accepted by physicists that, at the subatomic level, everything is a set of probabilities or potentialities affected by awareness. Even a simple act of observation—or, indeed, an intention to observe 2—can cause changes in the subatomic realm. A quantum particle in several simultaneous states of “possibility” becomes jelled into a single reality when we exert the power of our gaze. In fact, if particles behave in a certain way once we decide to measure them, it is almost as if we are creating them or as if they are cooperating with our desires. But few of us believe that the mere act of forming an intention could have an observable effect on our day-to-day lives.

Perhaps we are wrong. …Experiments with random event generators… support the possibility that our thoughts and intentions can cause observable changes in the world.3, 4, 5, 6  Another set of experiments, conducted by researchers on the effects of transcendental meditation, found that if enough meditators work collectively, the amount of violent crime in a city can be lowered for extended periods of time. 7 The truth may be that our beliefs and intentions do affect our collective reality in profound ways all the time; we just don’t realize it. Researchers have found, for example, that when doctors dispense pills that they believe will work, the pills work better; and when they dispense pills that they do not believe will work, they don’t work as well. This is true whether or not the pills are placebo or medicated, whether or not the doctors know what they are actually dispensing or have come into contact with their patients, and even whether or not the patients are human. It’s often the intent or belief of a doctor that matters the most.8

… So if we do accept the possibility of an active force of consciousness, how might it operate?  That’s where higher spatial dimensions might come into play.

 

The Fourth Dimension

Let me begin by saying that when I say “higher dimensions,” I’m not talking about figurative realms populated by mysterious beings. I’m literally talking about higher spatial dimensions. Just as a two-dimensional universe can be understood as a flat surface, and just as we ourselves live in three-dimensional space with objects possessing length, width, and height, a four-dimensional universe would actually be a space with one extra spatial dimension. While it’s easy to visualize other ways of adding a “dimension” to our reality—for example, a dimension of time would add a timestamp to each object, and a dimension of color would add a color—getting our brains to wrap around an extra spatial dimension is quite difficult.

…It turns out that a fascination with the fourth dimension was a fad of the late 1800s. This was the era in which mediums, like today’s television medium John Edward, were quite popular. It was also the era in which spiritualism emerged, an American religious movement focused on communicating with the spirits of those who had passed away. Scientists of the time proposed the fourth spatial dimension as a way of explaining spiritist phenomena. Ultimately, however, nearly all the mediums of the 1800s were debunked as frauds and as a consequence, speculation about the fourth dimension fell into disrepute as well. But perhaps we should not have been so hasty to throw the baby out with the bath water.

As mathematician Rudy Rucker points out in his book, The Fourth Dimension, 9 the first philosopher to discuss the possibility of a fourth dimension was Immanuel Kant (1724-1804). The idea of spirits as four-dimensional beings was then popularized by Johann Carl Friederich Zollner (1834-1882), an astronomer at the University of Leipzig. The first true theoretician of the fourth dimension, however, was British mathematician Charles Hinton (1853-1907), known for his work on visualizing the geometry of higher dimensional space. In addition to his mathematical work, Hinton also wrote a series of science fiction books, such as What is the Fourth Dimension? and A Plane World, which focus on realms with different dimensionality than our own. He also believed that higher spatial dimensions could be used to prove the inherently unified nature of the universe.

Hinton came up with a variety of ways to help us understand the fourth dimension and its properties. One was… [examining] the difference between two and three dimensions and then, by analogy, grasping the difference between three and four dimensions. Here’s [an] illustration of this technique.

If you take two flat two-dimensional surfaces and intersect them in the context of three-dimensional space, what do you get? The answer: a line, which is a one-dimensional object. To understand this, just imagine taking two sheets of paper and intersecting them. By analogy, if you take two three-dimensional spaces and intersect them in the context of four-dimensional space, what will you get? The answer: a two-dimensional space—a flat surface. That means, if there were another three-dimensional world floating out there and it happened to overlap and intersect with us, the region of overlap between our two worlds would appear to us like a flat, impossibly thin sheet of paper.  Could this be an explanation for the phenomenon of ghosts? Are ghosts simply ephemeral two-dimensional visions of beings in another three-dimensional world? That’s what Zollner proposed in the mid 1800s…

Physics and Higher Dimensions

Of course, speculation about higher dimensions is nothing new to physicists; they have considered the possible existence of four or more spatial dimensions for a long time. For example, between 1907 and 1915, Einstein developed the theory of general relativity, which states that gravity exists because a large mass causes three-dimensional space to bend within the fourth dimension. This is easy to visualize if you drop down into two dimensions. What if the mass of a large Circle caused the flat world of two dimensions to bend around it in three-dimensional space? Just imagine bending a large piece of paper around the edges of the Circle. That would cause everything near the Circle to fall toward it. In the same way, bending three-dimensional space around massive bodies like planets would cause nearby objects to fall toward them. Voila! Gravity.

And what about wormholes? …Physicists believe that three-dimensional space might be bent so heavily by the mass of a black hole that the fabric of the universe folds back on itself, causing one part to intersect with another, thereby creating a portal between them. To see how this could happen, just imagine bending a sheet of paper so much that two distant points on it touch.

…One question that still begs to be answered, though, is: What kind of access can we have to the fourth or higher dimensions? Even if our bodies are stuck here in three-dimensional space, is there a four-dimensional aspect of ourselves that we’re simply not aware of? Ouspensky, Gurdjieff’s student and chronicler, thought so. In fact, he felt that the primary goal of Gurdjieff’s teachings was to help us access our higher dimensional selves. As Rudy Rucker writes, “For Ouspensky, the fourth dimension was not only a spatial concept but a type of consciousness, an awareness of greater complexities and higher unities.” 10 Thus, rather than trying to contact other beings in the fourth dimension, perhaps our real goal should be to tap into our own four dimensionality. Indeed, I believe it is from this higher dimensional perspective that we may be able to exert the deep power of active consciousness—the ability to navigate and influence the unfolding of our three-dimensional lives.

The Branching Tree

… [It turns out that] from the perspective of the fourth dimension, …a complete human life—every activity of the inner and outer physical body—would simply appear as an eternal shape or object in four-dimensional space. …[But] what determines [its] shape? That’s when things get interesting. At each point in time we make choices. Do we walk left or right? Does our body repair itself or does it descend further into disease? At each instant, we choose one from a potentially infinite number of possible futures that lie before us. And while it may seem that only one future is chosen at each point in time, perhaps all of the other possible choices and futures exist in four-dimensional space too. If so, then our many potential lives—from a four-dimensional perspective—would look like a vast branching tree of possibilities.

Interestingly, this idea was hypothesized by physicist Hugh Everett in 1957.11 In the quantum realm, particles exist in many simultaneous states until they are observed and become “solidified” into a single state. To us, these quantum choices seem random. Everett proposed, however, that there really is no randomness at all. Each and every one of the possible choices for a particle actually exists—in another parallel world. We ourselves perceive only one choice—the one that takes place in our world. But Everett asserted that the others choices exist too—in other worlds. Indeed, parallel versions of ourselves exist in those other worlds too, and they witness the particle resolving into other possible states. Mind boggling! It sounds like science fiction, and indeed, many science fiction stories have been written based on this idea. But what if it’s science fact? I believe that this conception of our universe may also be the basis for how active consciousness might operate.

Let’s begin to consider this mind-bending idea by simply imagining a single point of branching. Consider the world of a three-dimensional ball, depicted in Figure 1. The ball begins, at time t1, at the bottom of a road. When it arrives at point C (which occurs at time t2), the ball must make a choice. Does it move along the branch moving to the right, or does it continue moving upward? In one future reality, the ball has moved up at time t3. In another future reality, it has branched to the right at t3, creating a fork in four-dimensional space.

Let’s call C a choice point—a point in space and time at which the Now splits into two or more possible futures. In order for this split to occur, some force must be exerted. If this does not happen, there may be only one possible future—the one that would play itself out according to the mechanistic laws of nature. For the ball, this might be the future in which it continues moving upward, in a straight line. But if some kind of force, intention, or will is brought to bear at point C, the Now will split into more than one possible future, like a branching tree. And when we humans exert such a force upon our own lives, we experience the sensation of free will.

Of course, people usually make rather mundane choices at choice points. We might choose to move our arm or walk to the grocery store. But at times the actions we take can be much more subtle—like when our thoughts affect the behavior of a random event generator. What I would like to propose is that this more subtle kind of force is what underlies the power of active consciousness. I’ll call it theC-force. And just as the experiments with random event generators showed, a person’s use of the C-force can influence not only his or her own life, but can also affect the unfolding of the greater reality around us. As a result, each and every one of us helps to create a much greater collective reality—an infinitely complex shape in four-dimensional space. Indeed, even if we took into account every tiny mechanism already understood by conventional science, the influence of our collective use of the C-force would be beyond our imaginations! In fact, it might even be possible that our influence extends beyond four dimensions. If so, we humans—seemingly three-dimensional creatures—may have creative potential that we have only just begun to tap into.

The Process of Active Consciousness

…When I chose the term C-force, I used the letter “C” intentionally—because it serves as a reminder of several important aspects of this force: Consciousness, Choice, and Creativity. Using the C-force—the force of active consciousness—you can make beneficial choices that take you down desired paths in life. You can create new and unlikely paths as well. Either way, harnessing the power of active consciousness will enable you to make the improbable much more probable and become an active creator of your own destiny. Let’s examine this process now in more detail.

…One way in which the C-force might be used is through the process of manifestation. In this case, you enable an unlikely combination of otherwise mundane events to occur so that a desired goal comes about. For example, let’s say that you would like to get a desirable parking spot near a restaurant. The restaurant might be in the middle of a busy city where parking spots are hard to find, but finding the perfect spot at just the right time could definitely happen. Everything just needs to be coordinated correctly: the choices made by the person who parked in the spot before you, the route you choose to drive, the timing of the lights as you are driving, and so on. By invoking the power of active consciousness… , these fortuitous choices and events could be enabled.

Or let’s say that you would like to find a new job with better pay. You’ve been stuck in a rut for a long time and can’t figure out how to leave your current job situation. Through the process of manifestation, however, it may be quite possible that a sequence of events could occur that leads you to your goal. Perhaps a bout with the flu forces you to take a couple of weeks off from work. As a result, your quirky boss decides to lay you off. Now you’ve been forced to leave your job. The following week, a long-lost friend calls you unexpectedly. She tells you about an acquaintance who needs to hire someone with your exact qualifications—the dream job. With this connection, you get the new job with ease.

Another way the C-force might operate is through the process of creation. In this case, a bit more magic is involved because much more unlikely (but still possible) unfoldings occur. Whereas manifestation is about enabling an unlikely combination of events to occur, creation is more about enabling more unlikely choices and events to appear in the first place.

For example, let’s say that you suffer from chronic eczema. Given the natural tendency of the body to recreate itself in the same way, it is most likely that your skin will continue to suffer from this condition. You might apply some cortisone cream, which chemically forces the body to suppress the eczema, but the innate tendency for your skin to develop eczema has not gone away. The next time you experience a period of anxiety or come into contact with an allergen, the eczema flares up.

But remember this: your skin is always sloughing off and regenerating. The outer layer of your skin (the epidermis) is replaced every month. There is a possibility that your skin could regenerate without this problem and that it would never return again. It’s not very probable, but it is possible. Similarly, it is possible that a cancerous tumor could be broken down by the natural defenses of the body without the use of poisonous chemotherapy or toxic radiation. It’s not very probable, but it is possible.

I believe that the C-force—the force of active consciousness—can be used to create such improbable but possible choices for the body. For example, a patient could use the power of active consciousness to enable their skin to regenerate without eczema or their cancerous tumor to be broken down and absorbed. Such medical cases of “spontaneous remission” do occur. Because doctors cannot understand or explain them, they sweep them under the rug by saying that their original diagnosis was mistaken or that the cure was an unexplainable fluke. But what if more of us could tap into this kind of healing through the C-force—the Cure force? It would be wonderful! We could be spared many toxic medicines and expensive medical bills too.

In fact, “energy” medicines like homeopathy, acupuncture, and hands-on healing may make this particular application of the C-force substantially easier to achieve. That’s because they operate not only on the physical body, but also on a subtler aspect of our selves—what is often called the “energy body”…. By helping to dislodge problems within this invisible realm—a realm that most alternative medical systems view as the true origin of disease—such treatments vastly increase the probability that the physical body will be able to create a healthier future. As a result, they also make healing applications of the C-force easier to achieve.

…So how does this fit within with the four-dimensional model described earlier? … In Figure 2, I use circles to represent choice points and arrows to indicate possible futures that emanate from them. Let’s say that you are currently at NOW. The circle labeled GOAL is a future that you’d like to reach—say, one in which you have a new job. The circle labeled MOST LIKELY FUTURE is the most likely or probable outcome—the one in which you stay at your current job. As the diagram illustrates, you can reach your goal in at least two ways—either by choosing or creating a new path right now (branching upward immediately), or by doing so a little later on. For instance, right NOW, you might decide to quit your job. Or you might create an improbable future—through creation—where a freak accident or illness ultimately leads to you being laid off. By using active consciousness to enable new choices to appear and to help you make the correct choices over time, you may find that you are ultimately led to your goal of a new and better job.

…In many ways, it’s all about possibilities and probabilities. Even if something is improbable, it can still be possible. And if it’s possible, the force of active consciousness—the C-force—can play a part in making it happen. Using manifestation, you can make the right choices at the right time and, through an unlikely combination of such choices, you are led to your goal. Using creation, an unlikely choice [may unexpectedly appear] before you; you just need to take it.

[To find out more about Active Consciousness12, visit www.activeconsciousness.com]

References:

M. Kaku. Hyperspace: A Scientific Odyssey Through Parallel Universes, Time Warps, and the 10th Dimension. New York: Oxford University Press (1994).
E. Laszlo. Science and the Akashic Field: An Integral Theory of Everything. Rochester, Vermont: Inner Traditions, p. 77 (2004).
R.G. Jahn and B.J. Dunne. “On the Quantum Mechanics of Consciousness, with Application to Anomalous Phenomena.” Foundations of Physics. 16(8), pp. 721–772 (1986).
R.D. Nelson, et al. “Field REG Anomalies in Group Situations.” Journal of Scientific Exploration, 10(1), pp. 111–141 (1996).
R.D. Nelson, et al. “Field REG II: Consciousness Field Effects: Replications and Explorations.” Journal of Scientific Exploration, 12(3), pp. 425–454 (1998).
R.D. Nelson, et al. “Correlations of Continuous Random Data with Major World Events.” Foundations of Physics Letters. 15(6), pp. 537–550 (2002).
J.S. Hagelin, et al. “Effects of Group Practice of the Transcendental Meditation Program on Preventing Violent Crime in Washington, DC: Results of the National Demonstration Project, June–July 1993.” Social Indicators Research, 47: 153–201 (1999).
R. Sheldrake. Seven Experiments That Could Change the World: A Do-It-Yourself Guide to Revolutionary Science. Rochester, Vermont: Park Street Press, pp. 217–219 (1995).
R. Rucker. The Fourth Dimension: A Guided Tour of Higher Universes. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company (1984).
R. Rucker. The Fourth Dimension: A Guided Tour of Higher Universes. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, p. 59 (1984).
R. Rucker. The Fourth Dimension: A Guided Tour of Higher Universes. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, p. 59 (1984).
A. Lansky. Active Consciousness: Awakening the Power Within. Portola Valley, California: R.L. Ranch Press (2011).

From Awakened Vibrations @ http://awakenedvibrations.com/post/130825977710/explorers-of-higher-dimensions-the-power-of

For more information about higher dimensions see http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/timespace

For more information about our multiverse see http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/multiverse 

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Prophetic Conspirators: Psychedelic Water

Prophetic Conspirators

Psychedelic Water

*

“How are you enjoying Oz?” the shaman asked the intrepid visitors. Cheers and laughter erupted from the sparking bonfire on the other side of the party-strewn paddock, where flittering gouts of flaming starlets poured up to greet the Milky Way.

   “It great,” Zen beamed through the smaller campfire. “We want to live here, but our visa run out soon.” He turned to his partner Shi, who was briskly nodding her agreement. The Japanese couple was obviously enjoying this taste of tribal tepee life in the hippified Rainbow Region of Oz, yet they’d shifted an arm’s length apart amid the small circle of newfound friends. Despite their recent exposure to naked hippies and public lovemaking, the shaman surmised the couple’s rigidified Nipponese upbringing still ensured they betrayed no overt signs of physical affection.

   “You can always come back, bud,” Cameron assured him.

Zen balanced Shi’s hand on his knee. “I want to. We want to.”

   “You’ve had no trouble here?” asked Cameron. The young travelers looked to one another before Shi answered for them both; “No, not trouble. Just some old people swear at us in Queensland.” She shrugged her slight shoulders while flying foxes screeched through the treetops.

   “You may encounter that with many older people here, particularly in Queensland – because of World War Two. You know what I’m talking about?” Ram felt like Basil Fawlty attempting to be diplomatic as the thought ‘Don’t mention the war’ flitted through his bedazzled noggin. The visitors glanced at each other again before Zen nodded. “Yes, we hear of it,” he affirmed.

   .

   “Well… older Queenslanders and other people in the north of Oz will never forget that the rest of the country was willing to hand them over to Japan if New Guinea fell.”

   “Everything north of Brisbane,” Cameron agreed. “And – well, no offence, but there were some hideous atrocities committed in that war and a lot of older people don’t forget that, either.”

   Zen tilted his head to one side. “Really?”

   “There certainly were,” the shaman prince carefully enunciated each word through the flickering firelight. “Almost a lifetime ago now. There is a new generation in Japan that has been told nothing of it – and isn’t responsible for any of it. We certainly do not hold it against you. But the generations before us will never forget and many will never forgive – and the fact that nothing is taught about it in Japan is a real concern to much of the world.”

   “That’s right,” Cameron agreed. “Most of my older relatives hate Japan to this day. We grew up hearing horror stories about guys being carved up and tortured from my uncle. He was in the Pacific…”

“You have to remember,” Ram said with a glance to Cameron, “propaganda was at least as bad on all sides as it is today. Even worse in wartime, of course. The history we read and were taught isn’t very accurate either – it was written by the victors, after all...”

“Always is,” concurred Cameron.

“…There were atrocities on all sides – though the ruling caste of the Japanese government considered themselves superior to all other races, just like the Nazis. They treated everyone else just as badly as the S.S. did the Jews and Gypsies.

“Japan created a slaughterhouse all around them before Hiroshima was bombed,” Ram continued, holding Cameron’s firelit gaze. “But you know, they were actually forced into the war.”

   “They were? I’ve heard that, but what do you mean? What about Pearl Harbour?” Cameron’s interest flared with the firelight.

   “The West cut off their oil supplies and just about everything else they needed to make themselves self-sufficient in a colonial world. The Japanese elite realised they could take the Western Pacific only if they could destroy the US military there in just six months – by wiping out its Pacific fleet in one stroke. Their plan actually unraveled right at the beginning at Pearl Harbour, when some of their targets escaped; but it’s all a long story, like the Opium Wars…”

   “Ah,” Zen nodded. Shi was obviously struggling to keep up with the conversation and he translated in a rapid burst of Japanese. “This very difficult, but interesting for us,” she said as comprehension dawned on her pretty face.

   “Mind you,” Ram continued, “Japan took Manchuria – though they may have had ancestral links to the place - and the shocking war against China was fought in a despicable manner. Japan hadn’t signed the Geneva Convention…”

   “No…” Zen asked the question as a statement.

  

“No,” Cameron averred.

   “You don’t mind discussing this?” the Prince belatedly asked the young couple.

   “No, we not mind,” Zen sayid for them both. “We want to know.”

   “Well… you know that Japan bombed the city of Darwin, in the north of this country? Destroyed it completely?” Cameron asked. The visitors shook their heads in confusion. “Bombed many, many times. Or that midget submarines attacked Sydney Harbour?” The visitors were nonplussed.

   “No…” Shi breathes. “We not know…”

   “It cuts both ways,” Ram observed. “Australians weren’t told the truth about Darwin either, thanks to the excuse of wartime censorship. And we know so little about Nippon or its history - and everything we think we know is twisted out of true by the media, intelligence agencies and politicians.” Watching the Japanese couple feel the pressure of the past, bowing their heads toward the fire and frowning in consternation, he decided to change the subject; “You’ve had no trouble with young people here?”

   “No,” Shi smiled, looking up from the flames. “Mostly it’s great.”

   She turned to watch Mandy emerge from the night and pull a deckchair up by the fire. Ram’yana was aware that the feral had been silently observing the conversation while twirling her blond dreadlocks in the shadows. He watched her watching the Japanese. She and her beau were slowly constructing their place in the Sun on the Star Earth tribal land, after their shady love shack mysteriously burned down a few weeks before the festival.

“When you come back from Japan you’d better arrange to bring some more of those young hippies with you,” Cameron laughed. “Save them by bringing them here to this hippy preserve.

   “If we make it back,” Zen said, “Before something bad happen.”

   “You think something bad is going to happen?” Cameron leaned forward into the heat. “Like what? War with China?”

Zen looked him in the eye. “Maybe that. Maybe something else. Not know what – but something. Many feel it in Japan. Things cannot go on as they are – something big is coming.” The Westerners sat in silence as he continued. “Maybe the Earth will rebel… But it good for me – it probably necessary for enlightenment, to go into the next… dimension?” *

“That’s the word,” the shaman assured him.

“Next dimension is where we all need to go. The next level.”

“I understand,” Ram said slowly, “but you know – it isn’t necessary to die to achieve enlightenment.” He caught Mandy’s approving smile across the flames. Zen appeared nonplussed. “And if there are another series of dimensions beyond this one – not parallel universes, but higher geometric dimensions – you know what I mean?” Zen nodded, hanging on every word. “Then we must already be in them, they must be accessible to us from here.” He saw he was moving beyond the visitors’ comprehension of English and took another tack that dovetailed with Zen’s interest in physics. “If eleven dimensions exist then how can we only exist in three or four of them? We must extrude, project, into all of them already. Understand?”

“Hmmm. This is very interesting. It not be necessary to die to be there… but how?”

“You know that the way out is always in?” the shaman asked him. Zen nodded in time with Shi. “Meditation, and the conscious development of the wider supersenses available to us; conscious exploration of those realms that we already extrude into, learning to see with new eyes… Armageddon isn’t necessary to achieve enlightenment.  Purification by fire is not something you need to go through. You are free now.”

“Many people in Japan think we must die to go on,” Zen said. “They think it a good thing. This is very interesting. I must think about this…”

“Many people think the same thing here, too,” Cameron sympathised. “But we have to go on and endure. It’s too easy the other way. ‘Nobody gets off until the mess is cleaned up.’ ”

The visitors nodded more profusely at this sage pronouncement.

The mess accumulates and energy swells as adventurous travelers strut toward the promise of a truly psychedelic experience - an indelible climax to the weekend’s hedonistic foreplay. By midday throngs already amass in the painted streets and shaded byways of the far out little village of Nimbin. Saturday’s brilliantine noonday heat transforms the vibrant subtropical splendour of the verdant landscape into a viridian radiance of enervating humidity. The autumnal atmosphere verges back into the sweaty green steambath conditions common during the last few years’ runaway greenhouse summers.

Yet untrammeled vigour still imbues the eagerly expectant assembly of freaks, straights, tourists and wannabe contenders with unabated intensity as they mingle and jostle for the year’s best buds, heads, colas and other less combustible comestibles. A demi-multitude straggles into town along gravel tracks and bitumen arteries, undeterred by the heat of climate catastrophe or police state shenanigans.

The locals are thoroughly outnumbered. Garbage bins overflow along the crowd-filled footpaths as thousands of camera wielding, fast food chomping visitors from despoiled lands of drear normality throng and mix, deal and fix, see and be seen beneath banners of the rainbow tribes and the all-seeing eyes of robotic surveillance cams. Spectrum-spanning painted faces stud the baseball capped crowd in chaotic arcs of rainbow colours, a well laundered shimmering sea of shiny black-and-blue-clad suburbanites.

   Why don’t you speak of what you’ve seen? The shaman muses as he rises from his seat to leave the Oasis. Is it just egotistic concerns over credibility – or a matter of not speaking of things which don’t want to be known?

Many of the visitors exist under a perennial stupor of paranoia in ‘normal’ workaday lives - fearing loss of station or job, marriage or children, afraid of peer or parental disapproval and all the other snares and grasping adhesions of the noxious social glue that holds the hive in which they’re enmeshed together – even, particularly, while walking and gawking down the main and almost only street of World Hippie Central. The alternative-minded but socially camouflaged throng doesn’t yet realise that they represent most of the world’s people – non-conformists at heart, who all live under the self-imposed harness of unnecessary fears, weighed down by the pointless guilt so keenly felt by true innocents deprived of normal human requirements, and made to feel inferior when they seek to satisfy their needs.

All yearn for release from the straightjacket asylum of a barely post-feudal civilisation run by lunatic control freaks.

The ages-old witch and shaman ride within us all, suppressed or oppressed or free as a bird and all of us are hankering after a flavour that leads to the taste of other dimensions, fresher views - zestier, more riveting impressions of the sumptuous reality through which we otherwise drift like limbo-bound wraiths and automatons.

Most Mardi Grass revelers couldn’t give a damn about hypocritical, unjust laws and certainly know they’re not damaged or damned, but blessed to be out and about in one of the brightest, freest times and places in all the vast murky realms of human history.

Everyone’s here to party and experience unseen sights and untried delights; hippies, yuppie ‘aspirationals’, dreadlocked Rastas and dreaded ferals, priests, politicians, students, TV crews and reporters and backpacking travellers from all round the globe, shopkeepers, soldiers, big and little old men and women, checkout chicks, lawyers, bureaucrats, proud parents carrying brightly bedecked newborn babes, emigrant Greek fishermen, Indian software writers and call centre voices, emo Goths - and anyone else not interested in being an active part of the subtly feudal friendly fascist police surveillance state of impersonal corporate Big Brother clones and militant industrialists - and all are seeking the selfsame source of the philosophers, stoned. A broad cross-section is represented, as they say, and just about everyone’s smiling.

Fleecy clouds begin coalescing in the wide open sky’s more distant margins, blowing apart in this late Interglacial Age’s inexorably rising winds. The Rainbow Region is multiply blessed with rich soil and Sun, sea breezes and rain, luxuriantly lush and deliriously green even at the end of a historic nationwide mother of all droughts, and for the first time the annual parade will be free of the double-edged benison of rain.

A good year for curing the mull, if you look on the bright side… Could be a good vintage… The shamanic prince’s thoughts flit hither and yon while he makes a sine wave beeline for the great Strangler Fig. The Tree of Life beckons, arching across the market ground’s outdoor stage as he strides through streams of fossicking punters hovering round myriad stalls and jewellery-strewn blankets. The future’s so bright we’ll have to wear shades…

He reaches the Chai Tent and gratefully slides into a mismatched litter of comfy cushions on the hempen expanse of canvas flooring. Each and every Mardi Grass, the space beneath the market site’s grand old fig is reserved for the Chai Tent, right beside the covered stage. The chai’s always good - if you wait for it to properly brew - gingery and purifying for the partied-out and jaded throng recovering from the pleasant excesses of Friday night. 

After taking a breath Ram’yana rises to inspect a tasty array of homemade organic cakes while John ladles some brew into a varied menagerie of ceramic cups. Muzza and John are regular fixtures at most alternative events, their friendly bearded familiar faces ever beaming behind fluttering prayer flags and political messages. They help their latest batch of eager helpers mix chai, coffee, teas and munchies beneath the generously shady green canopies of tree and marquee.

These days only half the food vendors in the ‘alternative’ township pay any attention to actual human or environmental health, beyond ubiquitous legal requirements of sanitation, hygiene and the like. Most of what they sell to paying consumers is toxic crap, just like the stuff most human folk will eat before, during or after reading these words.

But in Nimbin the other half are still wonderfully fastidious and most local produce is fairly organic. It’s been decades since aerial spraying of Agent Orange was common in these parts – in a saleable form with a slightly different brand name, of course, sprayed directly into the waterways and everywhere else when the hippies first arrived; one more lasting legacy of war’s fine record of ongoing ‘technological advancement’.

In Vietnam the peasants had no idea what was happening to them, but in Oz and other ‘advanced’ nations they sprayed tetragenic toxic herbicides on their own cropland, water, animals and farming families and newcomer hippies alike. Still do. Even in the ‘developed world’, the peasants are too ignorant or naive to realise that poison is poison is poison, and that all the products of Big Pharma and Big Oil and Big Brother are noxious, toxic, persistent carcinogens and/or other agents of insidious slow death. Speed kills. So does strychnine, arsenic, Agent Orange, Roundup and irradiated food. So do preservatives, colourings, bleaches, flavours, microwave radiation and most of the other shit floating around in human bloodstreams in the early Third Millennium.

And people wonder why they feel stoned all the time, why so many promising lives end so quickly.

It’s worth remembering, even if it’s unbelievable to most – three quarters of everything you eat, drink, breathe, touch, paint on yourself or wear is toxic, carcinogenic and debilitating. In a world where you rely on others instead of nature, all the crap you buy is made for making money, not for your health. As any individual toxic compound combines with all the other stuff in a ‘modern’ human body in ever more chaotic synergy, it’s no surprise almost everyone in the modern world is walking wounded, half asleep, barely here – role-playing the parts of automata in an industrial nightmare instead of being here now. Not to mention living ridiculously short, painful lives, in constant fear of the puzzling rebellion of the unknown, unstudied territories of their own bodies and minds.

The only way out is in, to create an inner place of peace unaffected by the turmoil, the inner sanctuary from which all imagination and creativity and immunity spring – and OUT, moving far away from the worst crap, stuff and nonsense of feudal capitalism, to at least attempt a different life in the last remnants of a healthier world. To bring every ‘lost’ dream all the way back from the last seed-source heartlands that still survive, and grow new lives that keep those heartlands sacred and inviolate. To grow a healthy world with a whole glowing soul. That’s the dream that most pursue or seek or view complete on the busy streets of Nimbin.

Here in the Rainbow Region a generation of brave beings has largely succeeded in their attempt to change the world within their horizon. The Nimbin Mardi Grass is barely a tenth of a greater green iceberg lurking just out of sight of The Grey Man and his equally hideous hidebound mate, the all-consuming Shopping Bitch. Alternative notions have evolved into a hidden yet subtly influential nation nestled within the recovering rainforest canopy. Its denizens have no need to officially secede from the larger notional paradigm of Oz – nothing secedes like success.

The Prince of Centraxis allows a multitude of voices wash over him through the amplified reggae horn section while Celtic harpists work the crowd from the psychedelic stage; “We all have the Buddha and the Troll within”, a bearded man in saffron is saying to a group of escaped students beneath the hemp tarpaulin. “Which do you prefer to give rein, and allow to reign through you?”

A high-pitched squeak obtrudes from a dozen paces distant; “Have you really looked at the shots of the twin towers exploding before they fall? Come on, it’s a crock of shit…”

“He’s selling ounces for a hundred but we have to be quick, it isn’t seedy…”

“Did you see those three girls doing it together at the doof?”

“Draw me a mud map and I can find it. Can we camp there, do y’reckon?”

“…working on a flow form whereby the superfine patterning embossed, as it were, on the metal substrate energises the water flowing across it…”

“What kind of metal?”

“…nuclear dump site for the rest of the world because that’s the only way we can have nuclear power plants and vice versa…”

“…but also draws slight but measurable and ultimately usable energy from the interaction…”

“…it’s all a little unclear if you ask me…”

“It’s all about money – we’ll make a motza from the storage fees – pay off the national debt…”

“You guys don’t remember, do you?”

“I’m going to hear that bloke from Canadia talk – you know, the one who got the medical exemption that says he can smoke?”

“I and eye don’ have t’worry, bud. Jah Rastafarii!”

“You mean it? How does that work?”

“You seen Narla? I lost ’er last night at the dance…”

“You mean your little girl?”

“Nah - her mum. Here – try some o’ this…”

“You know they had to let Rusty off all the charges?”

“Why? Because he was picked up by that flying saucer?”

“…the real question is, is scratching an itch or a willed act?”

“Huh?”

“O’ course it is! Yer just don’ notice the instant that it takes f’ yer to decide to do it.” It’s all too fast unless yer pay attention…”

“Ram!” Phico grabs the shaman prince’s left bicep, beaming and grinning and passing him a spliff that’s seen better moments. “I knew you’d be in the Chai Tent – already ready for the parade, I see.” With a twinkle in each eye he scans the winged hat that surmounts wild ringlets of stream-washed hair cascading over Ram’s traditional Green Tiger Snake ensemble.

“Born ready. This is probably the only way you’ve seen me for the past few years, isn’t it?” He passes the joint back as he exhales and Phico points to a stranger seated beside them; the Danish youth is more than happy to take the smoke off Ram’s hands., and shares it with a trio of Iberian backpacking feral girls he’s enthusiastically regaling with a tale of a bust at a recent extralegal outdoor gig (ganja works wonders in overcoming all language barriers).

Cones burn brightly beneath the shade of trees and tarps and the sounds of burbling bong water occasionally drown out the acoustic mandolin player now braving the stage.

“It’s a year since we last met – right here, in fact.” Ram’yana begins to roll while watching an attractive acrobat twirl on a thick rope overhead, and long strands of auburn hair trail down between him and Phico.

“So it is. I’ll have to come visit you in the rainforest again. How’s it all going out in the wild, anyway?”

“Growing. The river’s perfect and there’s a bag of mandarins waiting for you at Star Earth.”

“Really? Thanks. It’s unusual that the river’s still doing well in the drought...”

Ram’s eyes crinkle with his grin. “Wonderfully unusual….”

A bearded harlequin with a starkly delineated clown face joins them, creating a tiny circle amid circles of other festival-goers. His eye sockets are molten blue streaks that descend past a radiant plastic rose of a nose. “Hey, bro, how’s it doing?” he shakes Phico’s spidery hand. “Hasn’t the weather been strange?” Ram’yana can’t resist responding; “‘Could it be… a warning?’” Phico laughs while the younger man looks puzzled. “Sorry,” Ram’ explains, “it’s a line from an old movie…”

“‘The Last Wave’, wasn’t it?” Phico recalls.

“That’s the one - the Peter Weir movie about a tidal wave presaged by weird weather, among other things. It’s a book as well, of course.”

“You don’t think we’re having one of those, do you?” The harlequin asks. “Not up here? What’s the altitude, anyway?”

Ram looks up and smiles at the sky. “Right here? A couple of hundred metres. Fine for just about anything except a bolide in the Pacific…”

“Mind you,” Phico observes as the remnant number returns to him, “the Pacific’s pretty big – about half the planet’s surface. Hitting it’s a fifty-fifty bet. Oh – Ram’yana, this is Wanji.” Clown and shaman nod to each other while a police patrol attempts to wade around them, negotiating a path through the chaotically seated audience with mildly distressed expressions.

“They look really uncomfortable.” Wanji smiles at the muscled men in their new camouflage riot gear, standing out like sullen depressed dog’s balls amid the happy campers. Everyone ignores them as they walk through fragrant clouds from the flagrant crowd. No-one even offers them a toke.

“Wouldn’t you be?” the pink-skinned alchemist asks rhetorically.

“Hey, man, you’re looking really good.” Wanji claps Phico on the back.

“Thanks. It’s been a good year – but this has helped.” He produces a clear stoppered bottle filled with a viscous pink fluid.

“What is it?”

“Seawater, converted far less than halfway to the Philosopher’s Stone.” He passes the bottle to Wanji, who inverts the thick fluid and rolls it around in the sealed bottle. “Huh? Sodium chloride that’s been enhanced, or what?”

“That’s close. More like gold chloride. How much do you know about alchemy?”

“Not a lot.”

“Well – that’s what cured my skin cancers. Some of my hair’s even growing back – see?” Phico bows his crown for their perusal.

“I thought you looked kind of pink and new or something…”

“In the pink, that’s a certainty,” Ram’yana agrees.

“Well – that’s one early physical manifestation of the Great Work,” Phico beams with modest intensity. “As is that bottle in your hand. I don’t have much, but use some of it if you feel the need.”

“How?”

            “Just smear it on.” Wanji eyes the pink goop dubiously. “Worked for me,” Ram’yana assures him. “See?” He raises his hat and lifts his hair to display his smoothly lined brow. “Last year there was a big grey splotch here. One application of that stuff and it’s still gone. Faded away in a couple of days.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I normally use saliva… and the most important aspect is the concomitant visualisation. You have to imagine yourself in perfect, robust health – and really feel it.”

“Your own spit is best,” Phico explains. “Or your urine will do.” Wanji opens the bottle and sniffs. “Or you can use that.”

“Chai?” Ram suggests, and rises to procure more of the rainbow market’s beverage of choice. A flock of two-foot tall, fairy-winged green toddlers surrounds his knees with star-spun magic wands held proudly aloft. They stream through the crowd of reclining smokers, recovering partiers, kissing lovers, munching tourists and dancing girls that surround the front of the stage in age-old homage to the latest bard while the acrobat spins on her rope three body lengths above their heads. Three ornately sequined, coin-draped, silk-clad belly dancers weave a rhythmic path through the audience with an earthy, sensual physicality, following the retreating cops while the aerialist twists and spins graceful helices.

“How’s it going!?” white-bearded Muzza calls from behind the counter, enthroned on a director’s chair that straddles a huge snaking root from the two hundred year old fig that buttresses the mobile caravanserai. Each night the Chai Tent houses squadrons of crashing night owls who can’t make it to their tents, or don’t have any other place to lay their heads. The sage-like elder isn’t expecting an audible reply, so Ram merely nods. “Already ready for the parade, I see!”

“Enough time for a chai – or three if you don’t mind.”

“Good timing,” says Muzza, “it’s perfect right now! Cow or soy?”

“Cow.” The prince selects the lesser of two evils; the dire toxic reality behind soy’s bright corporate promise has finally become evident, and now the hippy cognoscenti are aware that unfermented soybeans strip the human body of its capacity to absorb minerals from food, just as the plants they spring from strip nutrients from the rocky exoskeleton of Gaia. Soy products seemed like such a good idea at the time – during the short-sighted, fraudulent ‘green revolution’ that fed a fraction of yesterday’s world at the expense of tomorrow’s, and only succeeded in entrenching arms manufacturers in profitably toxic ‘agribusinesses’ that destroy the world’s ecosystems… and besides, the Chai Tent uses organic milk.

He barters for three steaming mugs and carries them to the cushioned floor where his associates are locked in conversation with a young barefoot dreadlocked woman half clad in an ornate batik sarong. “Ah, Ram’yana!” Phico hails, “Thank you! Do you know if HAARP is up and running?”

“You mean ‘HAARP’ as in ‘Angels Don’t Play This HAARP?”

“That’s the one.”

Ram’yana is again reminded of how much verbal communication is merely a holographic carrier signal for much more deeply enriched concepts, carrying telepathic messages within encapsulated shorthand - signals that usually pass unnoticed and unremarked in all apparently mundane conversation. He passes the cups to the men and hands his own to the woman who accepts it gratefully. “It’s been up and running – supposedly being tested – for about a year now,” he replies.

“Thanks. So what’s it stand for?” asks Wanji. “‘Hypnotic Attack Array Removing Primates’, or what?”

“‘Hyperspace Activation Arc Resonating Portal’, perhaps?” the unknown woman suggests.

“‘High Frequency Active Auroral Research Project’, I believe,” Phico explains. “It’s capable of doing many things. It alters the local frequency of the ionosphere, for a start, and therefore alters the threshold of alpha and beta waves in the human brain.”

“And it can fuck up the weather, too, can’t it?” Wanji asks.

“A full-scale demonstration of concept would raise or lower the atmospheric envelope,” Ram elucidates as a flock of rainbow lorikeets call loudly to one another overhead, “and that would automatically alter the Schumann Layer and the resonant frequency girdling the ionosphere…”

“...as well as create localised high or low pressure systems and possibly a whole lot more,” Phyco continues. The acrobat spins and contorts her fine, lithe body between earth and sky as the mandolin trills like a metallic songbird.

“Tell me,” Ram says between sips of steaming chai, “have you noticed an increase in apathy lately?”

“What,” Wanji smiles, “you mean like my get-up-and-go has got up and went? Funny you should mention that…”

“I’ve heard a lot of people saying the same thing lately,” the dreadlocked feral adds, “like everyone feels unsettled, like they don’t know what to do. Or want to do anything. So most of them are just keeping on doing what they normally do, but noticing that something’s not right… or something. Is that what you mean?”

“I thought it was just my libido,” surmises the clown.

The woman’s brown eyes twist to Ram’yana beneath the puzzled furrows of her frown. Wise eyes, Ram reflects as he nods; she continues after a sip of her tea. “A few people have mentioned the same thing. So what do you think it is?’

“What do you think?” he bats the question back to her.

She looks down into the swirling chai. “It feels to me like everyone realises that the game is about up, you know? Everyone knows the climate is up shit creek and the weather’s gone crazy and water’s running out and food’s probably next. So they’re all kind of in shock, you know?”

“I’ve noticed the same thing,” Phico agrees as she silences herself with a sip, “and that could be what’s behind it… but it could be something else, as well.”

“It’s a little like the shock that everyone felt during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Remember that?” Ram’yana asks the alchemist, noting the blank looks from the younger man and woman. “You’re a Baby Boomer, aren’t you?”

“That’s right, I know what you mean - now that you’ve jogged my memory,” Phico agrees. “Everyone was in shock and just kept going to work – well, most of them – and that was one major genesis of the mass social changes that followed, I reckon…”

“…During the ‘dawning of the Age of Aquarius’ in 1962 – just after the big line-up…” Ram’yana reminds him.

“That’s right,” Phico avers, “but I think this is something different as well. Sure, everyone seems to be grokking what the hippies and environmentalists have been telling them for yonks, but this is somehow different…. A deliberate, mass hypnotic zoning out…”

“‘Angels don’t play this harp,’” Ram says.

Phico eyes him seriously. “You may be right.”

“So you think this American array in what, Alaska, is responsible?” Wanji asks.

“The two phenomena seemed to start around the same time,” Ram replies noncommittally, still facing Phico. “You know what Burkie said about all this years ago?”

Phico enfolds the cup in his fingers, eyeing the shaman over his broth. “John Burke you mean? I thought this was after his time?”

“Or he was before his, perhaps,” Ram’yana smiles from beneath his white winged cap. “He said that it was equally possible that a great ‘error’ could occur – that the perpetrators could easily accidentally strum the right harmonic key to bring about full resonance, instead of creating global hypnosis…”

“And enlighten everyone accidentally! Of course!” Phico laughs. “What an intriguing possibility…”

The impromptu gathering of the New Illuminati ponders the moment, regarding the concept and vision that fill their momentarily multifocal consciousness with a unified withheld breath. The fragrant chai infuses them with its fiery inspiration and the acrobat twists and turns, spiraling around the rope suspended from the ancient fig tree while the band plays on…

*

A True Story

Continues…

- R.A.

* Note – the Fukushima disaster had not yet occurred – R.A.

From The Prince of Centraxis via http://hermetic.blog.com/2013/02/08/prophetic-conspirators-psychedelic-water/
 

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