As a woman in the greater New York area, who worked in show business as a younger person, fighting off unwanted advances of agents, casting directors and fellow performers, was a way of life for me. I wrote “Me too” on my Facebook status, like countless others, but did not post my war stories. But the above article in the New York Times really made my blood boil. It speaks volumes to the argument against the domination of patriarchal religiosity. It speaks to the organized abuse of women and children by a patriarchal system that cannot be accepted. Women must not be complicit in this abuse of other women and children. Patriarchal fundamentalism in all so-called religions cannot be tolerated, whether it wears the mask of faux Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, or Hinduism. I am not against the true spiritual teachings of mercy and compassion.

I found this essay by my friend Zelda and it gave me hope for the future.

An essay below by my wise friend Zelda Hall, an Irish born transpersonal psychologist living in beautiful Amsterdam:

THE #METOO CAMPAIGN AND THE CALL TO BECOMING FULLY HUMAN
Yesterday I had a discussion with a (male) friend of mine about the #metoo campaign in which women are speaking out about the many times we have been assaulted in one way or another by a man and we have often kept quiet about it because we wouldn’t be believed, might get into even deeper trouble, be killed, or lose our job on which we were dependent to keep ourselves or our kids alive. Or we just accepted that this was what we had to subject ourselves to if we were to get on in the world as we are all told is what we are here for. To be “successful”
Some men have joined in, in different ways. Some to support women and others to admit their own oppressive behaviour and yet others to say ME TOO.
Of course I too have had to deal with the assaults that many women talk about. The abuse of power.
The older boy who flashed at me in the woods when I was a young girl. So that the woods, which were a place I loved were no longer quite so lovely. The doctor who insisted that he had to do a breast examination when I went to him for the pill. The Spanish bloke who tried to rape me when I thought we were only going to share bananas and milk at his place, not bodily fluids. After he tore the buttons off my blouse and almost broke the zip on my trousers, I got him off me by shouting ‘you bastard’. He only stopped because felt insulted by that word! I had bruises on my breasts. I have never felt paralysed, as is a common reaction, fight or freeze, when attacked in this way. I am very lucky. I managed to fight off an attacker in a New York street at seven in the morning when I was 22. I could run faster than he could.
I have never felt afraid of men.
My mother told me a story about how when she was a school teacher, all the women teachers would pass the word on not to be alone with a certain school inspector when he came to the school. No-one complained to ‘the authorities’. So many of us learned to avoid certain men or situations. Some of us could not avoid them.
There were and still are too many of these stories. There were and still are people who say well ‘that’s what men are like’. Or ‘boys will be boys’.
But I don’t believe that that is what men are like. I do believe that all of us suffer under a system that needs to change if we are to continue to live on this planet.
We must evolve from what Rianne Eisler called the dominator culture, to partnership. From culture that believes that there must always be someone on top. That there are only winners and losers. That accumulation of material goods is that which will ensure our rise to the top of the pyramid and will insulate us against misery .
To a culture in which we think as ‘we’ as not as ‘them’ and ‘us’ where we can be partners and allies in innovative ways of solving the planetary crisis.
You may say I’m dreamer but I’m not the only one.
I am reading Roddy Doyle’s book ‘Smile’ at the moment. It is painful. The main character, Vincent, describes in such exquisite detail how the boys in his school are brutalised by the members of a religious order who are teaching them. And how this abuse of power is reiterated in the boys’ relationships with each other.
And in his internal world.
One of my very dearest friends suffered from this same brutality. It injured him deeply.
A prominent Dutch male journalist speaks out about a well known media figure who raped him when he was much younger and just starting out. On TV, several male commentators on a programme about football laugh uneasily about what he has told. Seemingly totally unable to face the implications of it and acknowledge their own discomfort.
Women have taken the lead here and have risked being attacked yet again for telling their stories.. This is why some women really resent men ’jumping on the bandwagon’ and starting to speak out about their own abuse under the same hashtag, as part of the same campaign. I understand this.
The men need to do this for themselves. Not in the form of whatabouttery. We women cannot do the work for men. There are men who are addressing this. Who are confronting, supporting, and embracing their fellow men.
There are plenty of women who have abdicated to patriarchal authority structures. There are mothers who have abused their sons. There are women who have started wars and sent their sons off to do battle, to be martyrs. There are women who demand that their men support them financially and then berate them for not earning enough or not spending enough time with their families. And there are women who tell other women who speak out to shut up.
We all must acknowledge our misuse of power. Our contempt for others or for parts of ourselves. Our dismissal of our tenderness and hurt and inability to protect ourselves or others. And we must become fierce in our defence of life and our planet.
Many evolved women are yearning for men who have found a sense of purpose, who can acknowledge the parlous state of humanity and our treatment of the planet. So that we can be allies in evolution towards a more expanded state of being in which we can dismantle the patriarchal structures which we have allowed to hold us captive for so long. And which are slowly killing us all.
It is essential that we learn to communicate well, that we can listen, that we can hear. That we can hear the pain of another without wanting to jump in and say what about me? That we can acknowledge our role in creating that pain. Without simply becoming stranded in guilt and shame. That we can begin to create the kind of world in which all life is honoured. And that we honour the spark of life, the call to becoming fully human that lives in us all. That we live in service to this greater calling.

Sunset by Zelda Hall

Advertisements

Author in front of rooftop UFO.

A few days before Memorial Day weekend 2017, I went to the NJ shore. There I visited with a woman friend of many years. We walked the boards and talked about our escapades of previous years, including singing “We German” to the tune of Bob Marley’s “Jammin'” in Upper East Side night spots along with another mutual friend. That, and the UFO model on the roof of a boardwalk business led us into a discussion of psychoactive substances such as ayahuasca. But what did our Northern European ancestors do to commune with the higher realms? Why should we have to travel to South America to partake of this magical substance to become enlightened? Our conversation turned to fly agaric also known as Amanita muscaria.

fly agaric illustration

This mushroom is associated with shamanism, Santa Claus, and reindeer. You can see it on many German and Swedish Christmas cards. It is prevalent in illustrations across Iceland and probably other Nordic countries as well, but I am speaking here from experience only. I actually purchased a delicate glass tree ornament of a fly agaric mushroom at a Christmas shoppe in northern Iceland. Now think about Santa Claus. According to tradition, he lives at the North Pole and flies in a sled pulled by reindeer and he wears a red suit. This description fits that of a Siberian or Lapland shaman. It is known that tribes from the Arctic region, particularly their shamans, ingest fly agaric to go on spiritual journeys. They also herd reindeer and the reindeer also eat the mushrooms which incidentally grow underneath fir trees (Christmas trees).

Santa as shaman. (courtesy of Ancient Time News on Tumblr)

So my friend and I agreed that probably the most culturally appropriate way for us to experience higher realms would be to dose ourselves with fly agaric. This was all said largely in jest and under the influence of a vodka and tonic. No way that either of us intended to go out and find and consume potentially poisonous mushrooms that neither of us had ever seen in the “flesh”. In fact we doubted that it grew in our area of the world.

Shortly thereafter I drove to Northern New Jersey where at a familiar location I found these mushrooms.

Northern NJ fly agaric mushroom

A NOT intrepid explorer and fly agaric mushrooms in a bed of sweet woodruff under fir trees.

 

I have spent much time at the location in various seasons but NEVER saw this type of mushroom there or anywhere else. I am interested in mushrooms and as a child broke out in a horrible rash from excessive handling of puffball mushrooms. I always stop to look at mushrooms when I see them in the wild. Needless to say I was blown away by this seeming synchronicity, I actually felt like the mushrooms were calling me to have a taste. But I didn’t. I had heard all the stories of professional wild mushroom pickers who died from making a wrong identification.

About a week later I visited Providence Rhode Island and came upon these sweeties on an evening walk.

Providence RI fly agaric?

This was beginning to get uncanny.

Then I received this toy figure as a gift.

 

Toy fly agaric figurine.

I don’t usually do a photographic essay for a blog post, but this little episode really calls for it. I still haven’t ingested any fly agaric, though I can’t say I’m not tempted. I think that the late Terence McKenna explained this best. He spoke of mushrooms being conscious and their spores traveling through outer space. Could these mushrooms have been speaking to me? I think that they were. I think they were speaking directly to the Neanderthal in me.

Listen to Terence MaKenna on this subject (short) on YouTube.

Fahrusha is a professional intuitive and co-host of Shattered Reality Podcast.

Aviso: Although I am an intuitive reader, most but not all of this article is based on psychology and common sense. I always believe in using common sense first to solve one’s problems. That being said, every person’s situation is specific to them and there are exceptions to any rule. Each person must thoroughly evaluate their own situation. This article is meant only to provide general observations and helpful hints.

 

 

I have had so many clients who have had broken hearts, indeed I have been broken hearted myself and it was very painful. Heartbreak can manifest into actual physical problems. The American Heart Association says “Broken heart syndrome, also called stress-induced cardiomyopathy or takotsubo cardiomyopathy, can strike even if you’re healthy. (Tako tsubo, by the way, are octopus traps that resemble the pot-like shape of the stricken heart.)” Unfortunately, this can be misdiagnosed as a heart attack or lead to temporary heart muscle failure. Fortunately, most of my brokenhearted clients were able to pick themselves up and find an even better relationship by following the guidelines below.

 

The first thing I do in my consultations with individuals who are broken hearted is to determine if the client’s relationship is actual. Some people have relationships with others that are in their minds only or vastly exaggerated. That doesn’t mean that those individuals don’t feel the immense pain of heartbreak, but they may require somewhat different advice.

 

People who have had real fulfilling relationships and have lost those relationships feel as though their lives are over and they will never love again. They often feel great mental and physical pain. It is most important that they do not become addicted to that pain and perceive their lives as some romantic tragedy that they choose to remain in for a prolonged time. Given all the romantic literature and movies devoted to such subjects, it is no wonder that individuals relate to what they have seen portrayed in movies or read in books. It is vital for a person who wants to have a real relationship with another individual to not become a romance addict. The psychological literature often refers to this as being a “love addict”. I believe that that nomenclature is misleading because the word love is so squirrelly. It means different things in different circumstances. Addiction to romance has to do with becoming addicted to the rush of endorphins one experiences in falling “in love” romantically, followed by the crash that occurs when the love object departs or does not live up to being an idealized person. This in turn is followed by the recitation of the latest romantic tragedy to friends and others, which serves to bring attention to the sufferer in such a way that portrays them as the hero or heroine of a romance novel. This cycle needs to be broken before a healthy love relationship can ensue.

(more…)

Depiction of meteor crashing into the Gulf of Mexico in the late Cretaceous Period.

Depiction of meteor crashing into the Gulf of Mexico in the late Cretaceous Period.

Extraterrestrial evolution is a topic of great interest to me in a number of ways. The thought of this may be bizarre to many people, but perhaps it shouldn’t be. There are four factors that come immediately to mind.

  1. There are probably billions of planets in our Milky Way Galaxy and quadrillions in other telescopically visible galaxies. Scientists disagree on how many of these other worlds might generate life, but few think we are alone. Even the Vatican is very open to the concept of extraterrestrial intelligent beings.
  2. Some great cosmological thinkers have posited the idea of panspermia, including Dr. Chandra Wickramasinghe and the late Sir Fred Hoyle (1915–2001). Panspermia is defined by Google as the theory that life on Earth originated from microorganisms or chemical precursors of life present in outer space which were able to initiate life upon reaching a suitable environment. Today a scientist in the UK named Professor Milton Wainwright is sending up balloons to the stratosphere to discover microbial life from space. Think spores traveling on comets etc.
  3. Though it seems to me that much evidence points to the idea that Earth has been visited multiple times by extraterrestrials, thoughts and theories about extraterrestrial evolution do not depend for their validity on extraterrestrial visitation.
  4. The fourth factor is an open question: Would such life follow a set pattern similar to life on Earth, or would extraterrestrial evolution take an entirely different path or could both ideas be true?

This blog post will deal mostly with this fourth factor, that is, the open question. It has been both rumored and openly stated that NASA and JPL have quashed reports and evidence of life on Mars and other spheres. Most prominently I think of assertions made by Dr. John Brandenburg, formerly of NASA, about advanced life on Mars; and of evidence of certain findings of primitive organisms (crinoids) visually identical to Earth organisms discovered by Dr. Richard Hoover, 46 year veteran NASA astrobiologist and “Inventor of the Year”. In fact, I wrote a blog post about that a few years ago that can be accessed HERE. This is particularly important to the the rest of my thinking on this subject of extraterrestrial evolution.

If the organism found by JPL on Mars is, in actuality, largely identical to those found on Earth, it seems to point to the idea that extraterrestrial life might always or often evolve in the same or similar manner. One frequently discussed concept that follows in this direction is the controversial idea that some extraterrestrials who have purportedly visited the Earth are Reptilians. The theory goes something like this: if the dinosaurs who once inhabited the Earth were not killed off by a comet or large meteor which struck the Gulf of Mexico at end of the Cretaceous Period, would they have perhaps evolved into self conscious bipedal beings who might roam the galaxy? And if so, is it not possible or indeed likely that on other suitable planets in the galaxy or beyond such Reptilians might exist, if in fact, evolution follows a similar model everywhere? In this discussion somewhere, one must consider non-human very intelligent life forms right here on Earth that have not developed with bi-lateral symmetry. I am thinking here of cephalopods like squid. That might derail the similar evolution everywhere theory as the sole way life could evolve.

On the other hand, is it possible or likely that evolution throughout the cosmos looks nothing like Earthly evolution? I’d say certainly that is possible and in certain circumstances probable. One probable circumstance resulting in a different evolutionary pattern might be an environment where the building blocks of life are not carbon based or not dependent on water or oxygen. Dear Reader, does your definition of “life” depend on breathing or respiration? Furthermore, should it? Perhaps consciousness is a better definition of life than taking breath.

But are these ideas of evolution in the cosmos mutually exclusive? I don’t think so. Ponder this: perhaps life develops in a similar evolutionary pattern where carbon and water are available, and totally differently where they are not. I am not stating conclusively that this is the case, but it certainly provides food, no a feast, for thought.

Fahrusha is a professional intuitive and co-host of “Shattered Reality Podcast”.

The PATH Station entrance in Hoboken

The PATH Station entrance in Hoboken

After having Dr. Stanley Krippner on “Shattered Reality Podcast” at the end of July speaking about precognitive dreams amongst other things, I have been mulling over dreams I have had recently. A bit over a week ago I had a dream wherein two people I did not recognize, walked out of a woods toward a road in a place I did not recognize, carrying with them a number of rescued kittens, one of whom was a white female kitten. I was intensely interested in the white kitten and the woman carrying it offered it to me to adopt. I accepted the offer but that is where the dream ended. Several days later, I saw a video on my FaceBook feed from “the Dodo”, which was remarkably like my dream, but minus my participation. I was extremely intrigued by this, though it did not materially affect my life. Something that has become apparent to me recently is that often I dream about people I don’t know or know of, that is they are not famous people.

Last night or more precisely in the wee hours of the morning I woke up from my sleep and was thinking about programming a dream. This time I decided to loosely (very loosely, since I was still a bit snoozed) use the technique employed by Dale Graff, a dream researcher and fellow member of IRVA and SSE. I asked for a dream about a future event I might see in the newspaper on the third or fourth page. Sadly in my half snoozed state, I failed to put a date on the newspaper. Sorry Dale, my bad.

As planned, I shortly fell back to sleep with my intention in mind. I dreamed I was at a PATH train station in Hoboken NJ going with my class to NYC to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The PATH (Port Authority Trans-Hudson) trains go from urban New Jersey to several locations on the lower westside of Manhattan. Unfortunately the fare had just been raised to $4.00. It is currently $2.75. My entire class went through the turnstile but I did not have exact change, which in my dream had to be in singles and/or quarters. This is at least partially true, because at the Hoboken station, in order to get a one way ticket to insert into the turnstile, you need to put such a combination into the ticket machine.

A very thin, odd looking woman, with day-glo red and pink hair that stood up on end, tried to help me. I had put most of the fare into the turnstile but was missing some coins. She stood guard as I ran about frantically looking for change. Amazingly I found that my jacket pocket on the left side was stuffed with $20 bills! How had that happened? I was now afraid of losing them. As I raced back to the turnstile the rooster-haired woman was leaving the station. Someone had just gone through the turnstile that had at least $3.50 of my money in it.

9th Street PATH station.

9th Street PATH station.

Not to be thwarted, I fished a bus ticket out of my wallet and got on the bus for Manhattan bound for the Port Authority Building hoping to catch up with my fellow art students going to the museum. When I got to the Port Authority building I ran into my friend, ESJ, who offered me a flattened but tasty cookie filled with a chewy vanilla marshmallow. It was delicious.

Here I will digress. In the past several years I have noticed the ability to smell and taste things in my dreams. I wonder how many people do this? I know studies have been done on who dreams in color versus black and white. For me, it is color, though some dreams have more vivid color than others.

The dream concluded with ESJ going to a bakery counter on the second floor of the PA and purchasing piping hot almond biscotti freshly cut and out of the oven. Yum. Apparently I forgot about my class in my delight.

When I awoke I had vertigo. I also discovered that the night (09/17/2016) before I had dined at an Italian restaurant in Chelsea around the corner from where a small pressure cooker bomb had exploded an hour after I’d left the restaurant. On the corner near the explosion is a PATH train station which is currently closed over the weekend and I now learn, until further notice. I did not learn of the explosion until today (09/18/2016). In my dream I was at a station on the Jersey side, so this may be entirely coincidental.

I will be interested to discover if the PATH train fares increase in the near future.

Note: Pay attention to your dreams and journal them. Precognitive dreams can be had by anyone, but you have to respect and remember your dreams and treat them as valuable.

Postscript: Yesterday September 29, 2016, there was a terrible train crash in Hoboken NJ. My condolences and deepest sympathies go out to the victims of that crash. The train station and the PATH train are located in the same complex, indeed the track on which the train crashed was the one furthest north and nearest to the PATH train and the PATH train was shut down for several hours yesterday.

In addition, money for fixing the trains has been discussed heavily in the local news today. Seems as though the transportation experts had been warning NJ that they needed to make safety changes at the Hoboken station.

Did my dream have significant elements in it regarding this tragedy or was it a coincidence? I make no claims and indeed this event is very saddening and sobering. Although I work as an intuitive, I am not an expert in using dreams to forecast things. It is a discipline with which I am working and trying to learn from. If I were remote viewing, I would not have hit a bull’s eye, but probably have been told I went to the right location. But I put this forth; I don’t ever remember dreaming about going to the Hoboken PATH station before. I have lived most of my life not very far away from it, whether in lower Manhattan or nearby NJ, and in my recollection, nothing anywhere near this significant has happened there or so close by.  I do not regularly ride the NJ Transit trains and can’t remember having ever rode on the line that crashed. I now would not be at all surprised if all these fares go up.

In a situation like this it is abundantly clear why in remote viewing protocol there are a number of viewers tasked with a target, because different viewers can bring different pieces of the target together.

Again, deepest respectful sympathies to all killed, hurt or traumatized by this tragedy.

Fahrusha is an intuitive reader and the co-host of “Shattered Reality Podcast”.

J.S. shortly after arrival.

J.S. shortly after arrival.

J.S. was born a feral cat in a colony of feral cats fed by a kind cat lover. He is all black, except for a few white hairs where one might imagine a belly button, and very soft. One day when he was a kitten I am told he was hit by a car but survived. The kind cat lady took him into her home, thought “he” was a “she”, nurtured him back to health and gave him up for adoption at a PetSmart store. There he was discovered to be a boy and neutered.

One day when J.S. was about four months old I entered his life. I had come back to PetSmart a number of times to see a strikingly handsome tiger boy cat who was about 8 months old. Two sisters were manning (or womanning) the adoption area. These two volunteers are great cat lovers, I was to find out. They introduced me to the tiger boy cat who was rather too pugnacious to adapt easily to my home and the big ginger tom that already owned the space. But they wanted me to meet J.S. who was very shy and huddled in his enclosure.

I petted him and he trembled a bit, and I said to myself “why not?” and paid the adoption fee and took him to meet the big ginger tom (herein after referred to as BGT). J.S. lived in the bathroom for a couple of days so the cats could take in each other’s scent. After releasing J.S. he hid a lot for the first few weeks, but it was clear he was enamored with BGT. BGT did not attack J.S. and allowed him to eat, but hissed and batted him if he came too close.

Big Ginger Tomcat

Big Ginger Tomcat

Flash forward a bit over two years: situation mostly unchanged. J.S. is aloof towards most people and hides when company comes. BGT still hisses and bats. J.S. still exhibits devotion to BGT and follows him around. BGT spends the night close to me on my bed. I’m sure he thinks it is his bed. J.S. often waits until BGT is sound asleep and sneaks in next to him on the bed. If he is lucky BGT doesn’t notice him and J.S. is very happy and purring, but more often he sleeps on the windowsill near the bed. J.S. is now nearly as big as BGT and frankly a bit chubby.

J.S. sneaking up on BGT

J.S. sneaking up on BGT

I woke up one morning a couple of days ago and surveyed my surroundings, seeing J.S. on the windowsill looking in my direction and BGT sleeping against my hip. Then I thought my thoughts. J.S. is probably hoping I’ll get up and feed him, little fatty. I wonder if he likes me at all? He is probably only in my room because this is where BGT sleeps. I wonder if he will ever be loving towards me.

I hadn’t moved yet at all except for opening my eyes. At that moment J.S. walked over to the head of my bed and jumped on board settling himself under my armpit and kissing my nose. He stayed there for ten minutes until I had to get up and begin my day.  He had never done that before. Who says cats aren’t telepathic?