This essay is an exploration of the idea that mind control is painful and traumatic to individuals and society, but is not evil and may be no more of a tragedy than a garden plant being transplanted and having its root tips broken off to rot and die. (This is my philosopher self, trying hard to look at things from a higher, even cosmic perspective, not taking things so personally.) And 12 hours later, I’m adding this note that I don’t believe this entirely and will post another article soon, about real evil and positive creative imagination.)
I welcome readers to share their own explorations on this idea.
The garden of Earth seems to be being sacrificed unnecessarily and tragically, but maybe it’s no more tragic than a field destroyed for the parking lot of a factory that will produce guitar and piano strings for all the world’s music.
In a few generations my family of farmers and ranchers has been transformed, through painful cultural upheaval, into artists, teachers, a doctor, an arborist, a program director for international land mine removal, and an international voice for human rights and healing for the world’s many mind control victims. And that’s just my immediate family.
I’ve often thought it would be better to have stayed farmers and ranchers of the old organic methods, live in close communities, sing and tell stories around the campfire, and care for the Earth, like millennia of humans before us.
I still love the idea, though the possibility of ever returning to that “idyllic” life (which may have been idyllic very rarely in the larger scheme of history) seems, anyway, to be slipping away. Yellowstone threatens to blow, earthquakes rumble on the Pacific edge of the Americas, engineers actively add pressure to the Earth’s crust with fracking, loggers destroy the rainforest lungs of our biosphere, fishers empty our oceans, and industry pollutes it and the air, soil, and rest of our waterways, and introduce “death genes” and toxins into our plant food supply. It seems a liquidation program is well underway on our planet, including the decimation of select populations of humans.
Who is the intelligence behind all this?
Not you and me. Don’t give me that.
Some would say either a vengeful god/God, Satan, or races of aliens, maybe Archons. We could define our terms and try to get behind the cartoon images to the possibility or reality of an intelligence, maybe even a Prime Source Creator, with or without an opposite, existing on more dimensions than this, creating our reality and moving us along to something new, like a gardener with grand plans for the meadow.
Can we change the gardeners’ plan if we’re a wildflower? Can we stop Yellowstone? Can we stop the fracking? Can we stop mind control?
Or, can we do something on the other dimensions? I think we can.
Even though our Gardeners (or someone/Someone) has done everything it seems possible to keep us ignorant of our partial existence on other dimensions and the possibility for us to develop skills and relationships there, yes we can learn to work there, probably more powerfully than here.
We seem disempowered here because the Gardeners/gods/God/Satan/aliens are at work on this dimension, and some of them use mind control as consistently as we/they use Round-up, DDT, and napalm. It makes it dang hard to buck their system. They are not afraid to kill things (and neither are we), like any good gardener or scientist, as just part of the process. Something usually survives, and that’s the prize.
Are they and their ways evil? My first instinct is to say Yes!
Then I think: Are we evil for ripping things up in our gardens, killing those root tips, bugs, mice, microfauna, and microflora with so little concern?
Accepting the theory of a Callous Gardener with grand plans: Do I want to be the Gardeners’ prize, sweet fruit, or do I seek some sort of escape? I certainly don’t think I like this Gardener, especially when I am told about the torture of prisoners at Abu Ghraib (by our government!), our dying oceans, and remember my own torture and abuse – so I don’t think I care to survive this enterprise.
Then I remember the invention of guitar strings and broadcast music and my comfy home with a tight metal roof, so much more comfortable than my great grandmothers’, and I relent.
Then I remember ancient stories of opposite forces of Life and Death warring on Earth (and remember all my own spiritual experiences), and remember it’s a matter of choosing with which energy stream we will align in this big swirling universe of energies.
I know which one I choose. It is creative. It is not cruel. And so I must be creatively – and consciously – kind. I must even garden with more consciousness of the plants I dig up and haul around. I must only purchase things grown organically, never products of war and torture – but…
This solution doesn’t go very far. It seems every computer or even pad of paper available is a product of torture and war.
So what to do?
My animal self wants to buck and cry out at the pain – maybe teach that cowboy controller a lesson or two.
My inner healer works to be aware and try to heal myself further.
My artist reaction is to sing and write and design my garden.
My social self wants to teach and share as I’m allowed and otherwise stay connected with others.
My inter-dimensional self works to stay connected with Spirit Family despite cultural and other programming against it, to strengthen my inter-dimensional relationships and skills.
And all these selves – animal, inner healer, artist, social, and inter-dimensional – remind me of my other selves, split-off, traumatized children mostly, and I wonder if their painful existence has given me greater perspective, something very useful, and, despite the occasional dysfunction they cause, and the result is something evolutionarily beneficial, beyond “painful to me and beneficial to my controllers,” and might actually be important or even necessary to human awareness and evolution.
The wounded parts of me, of course, don’t want to believe that all the pain of this life – my suicidal years and all the rest – were necessary! That pisses them off!
Then I wonder if it’s not necessary in our infinite universe, but is just the course that evolution took on this planet; it’s just … what is.
The bulldozer (some might say operated by a visionary, and others by a psychopathic, death-crazed demon) is blading the field right now. And some of us, like deer bedding on the edge of the meadow, ave been alerted and may be able to save ourselves. And my social activist self will post this essay in case it might help someone else wake up – though to what I’m not going to pretend I know for sure.
But Life is also calling from hidden places on this and other dimensions.
So other parts of me will meditate, clear my aura of woundedness as well as I can, strengthen my connections with my Soul Family, and then go sing some beautiful songs, and be happy when the weather warms and I can get back out in the garden – and work more consciously with the plants.
keep on truckin’ (remember that one?)