If “Zion” is a time line (and not a place or state) I am looking for keymakers.
Actually, I am not. That would be pointless. We need mapmakers.
We have opened all the doors (keymakers need to reschool). We are out of temples and Templar churches. The lifts don't close anymore; the telephone booths have been taken away - not that they have keys, but they have been famously used for inter-dimensional travel (resp. Charlie And The Great Glass Elevator by Roald Dahl, and Dr. Who seems to be always associated with a telephonebox, although I am not at all familiar with the latter's spooky travels; and then of course there is the Matrix, with scenes from dreams I'd had as a child, especially that eternal dialing out on lines,...)
The word “map-maker” came to me under the shower, letting the jasmine and sandle froth up into polyhedron of projected fields. It takes a lot of time. I am beginning to see it takes a life-time to decide tiny aspects of the project. I feel strongly that we need maps to aide a smoother progression, with batons being picked up seemlessly. So much power wasted on the years we doubt ourselves, lost in "el quinto pino".
There are many different types of workers for the spiritual world (the one that is, as it is, making lovers love and acorns remember to be acorns). For a long time I was a humble scribe. Now I seem to be a surveyor. This helps the civil-engineers know where to build the platforms or landing stations. You see, we are not looking to escape anymore (Gnostics are très passé), and lift off back up out, heavenwards, but we do better to trust and invite them into our midst. There is no way out anymore. I think we are trapped. We have to live with the enemy, letting it cling like a marsupial fetus to our energy source. Maybe they have an idea. The better voices in our head. The angels and the dead, and whomever else in the skies we call upon.
To make a map you have to see from above. Nazca plain style. In time this translates as looking back for the clues that have been not contaminated by personal preference (only, possibly, properly recorded and stored by it). It took decades to go from, “mi conejillo de los Indios” in Barcelona, to the Swiss franc in front of the gate of the house I was going to live in, to a bad bounce (never use exercise balls) off a weak moment of personal preference, to my only escapade of any significance in the last 16 years - nine years after picking up that coin, five years after writing down Q.'s story - to Sion, Switzerland. Not a choice (somebodyfrom my dad's tennis club had a chalet nearby, it so happened). So Valais really does exist. All coordinated on Google maps, but that's not the Sion I visited. My Sion was there at a certain time, a certain seaon, a certain phase of my life: it became a space-time frequency. Aw, gobbledy-gook. But there is not a lot to defragment for you here. It must remain a pointillist impression.
How to walk in a straight line of upward development?
We could read “Isis Unveiled” (spare yourselves, please!) or the entire works of Steiner (meh) or decode the women in the Old Testament as arch-Mother Matrixes (fun) but it’s all under your own nose if only you look. Saves trees and declutter the net (we’re running out of space, do you realise? and the floor is bowing. If we fall through into some black hole, don't say I haven't warned you.‡
You have figured out, I presume, at least those of you who have allowed yourselves to be bored enough, that life on earth is based on repetition. Reproduction, representaion, return, rebirth, recognition, remember (especially in September), react, regenerate, restore, replace, anything with “re”; in this lies the marrow of “rerum natura”. This boredom serves to extenuate the length of the journey. If you sink into enough boredom you come out of the other end, and half way through the trip, you start to enjoy it. But it is far, and there is farther to go. You thought Jupiter was far, you’re right, that kind of length.
If you don’t see the point of boarding the craft, altogether, you haven't stared out into space long enough to pick up the urgency of a one-off opportunity. From plenty of the same (highlighted by variation), of what we have in common, we build the foundation and out of this we may start to spiral inwards. It’s an organic way of realising who we really could be.
We sleep to remember
It’s been one of those nights, where you wake up, guess it’s five, check it’s 4:57 (another 8) and wonder why you have to remember the name of that actor in “Rouille d’Os”. I spent a while pacing up and down my bedroom, picking up:
- Flemish;
- how he could get lyrical about the Dark Knight,
- and there was also “Disorder” which had appealed especially to my son, not interested in Matthias Schoenaerts but whether his character swept the villa properly and had noted the blind corners the surveillance camera guard wouldn’t be able to watch (my son is obsessed with security).
- oh and he also went nuts in real life (a bit of a method actor) from adopting the military sleep routine of 2.30 hrs sleep and then back on watch 2.30 hrs before getting those 2.30 hrs sleep again. For me 3hr slots work, but it does become gruelling after a while. He ended up in the hospital, carted off set.
I suppose you would have googled it on IMDB and rolled over and gone back to sleep. Now, that would cause only so much extra sleep loss, you know that, too. I’d go pointlessly looking for rusted sculptures and stumble upon so much talent that doesn’t need Steemit. All more jumble to weigh up whether it can go into the timeline or not.
It is a like finding the right frequency on a radio; you have to hear out for one. In my line of living, you only get to know anything on a need to know basis. If you accept such a mission, take my advice, you needn’t buy a bed. A mat will do for Savasana restoration.
It goes to show though, that every single thing you do, consciously, with a purpose, be it minting a coin, or digging a Simplon tunnel, or shooting a film, casting a bronze, making breakfast for the children of tomorrow, dotting a billion points to trick the eye, it all links in to the making of the next portal.
Some of us
My Portuguese friend, at least, got the concept of “downloads” and “coordinates”. But I think she may have slipped off the architect’s stool and slid over to the table where some fantasy land artboard appealed to her more while I was fetching coffee. You’re not going to meet any Celtic waifs with blue pixie ears in medieval bodices and Gandalfs or Conan-like heroes in my planning job. It is mainly doodling in wax crayons, maybe you find a stick of Roché to lift you out of the drudgery, but it is always back to simply walking the loops and finding the right circumference from which to measure the spokes back to the hub (landing pad found).
We can go back to bed. Sleep tight.
Endnotes
‡
Everyone should have one: an organiser tablet. It takes up so much space you won’t be able to fit much other clutter on your table; enjoy the challenge also of keeping only what will fit in those minimalist compartments exactly….. One stubby pencil, a wallet, a phone and a ? comb with a metal handle? Suggestions anyone?
I think it’s Swiss made. Dario Mader
You know how Marie Kondo introduced us to the magic of tidying up? How she made a fortune on books and courses teaching you to put your socks in a drawer and your books on a shelf? How she could revolutionise your life? Well, I’m going to follow suit and write a few books on learning how to find the pulse to a life that is even more clutter free, devoid of the stressors brought to you by the inevitable things and matters and toxins, simply by doing only what you need to do (mantra 5 for those who have signed up already to the course.) Your house may look a tip, but I promise you, your heart will feel so much lighter, Ma’at will be overjoyed and waft you with her feather straight through to the Hygge Afterlife.
Are you also losing sleep? Don't let it cause a bad day. Go to the gym, sweat it off! Get a dog for distraction! Keep laughing your socks off !(Don't forget to put them back in the drawer - after washing - and hanging them up to dry - and rolling them into a neat ball)
Cheer yourself along with:
The Lighter Side of Loops:
Had a bad day
Gym Fails by Ozzyman
Dog Breed Deformities, brought to you by the Sam O'Nella Academy
-The spider sits undisturbed by much climate change yet on the Nazca/Nasca Plains in Peru. How he got there remains a mystery.