You Can Lead A Sheeple to Knowledge...

"You can lead a sheeple to Knowledge, but you can't make him think."  (Some random thoughts on the end of the world.)

Some days what I really need is a 6-pack of assholes and a hammer.  (Oh, dear, did you really just say that out loud?)  Not out loud, but I said it on cyberpaper, so take it as you will and run away in terror if you need trigger warnings, because you won't be getting any today (or any other day) on my pages, and this post in particular is not going to adhere to any paradigm of political correctness, appropriate language, or positive thinking.

This post is about telling the truth as I have come to see it, and letting the chips fall where they may.  It's about being authentic as opposed to placating. It's about being who I-Am instead of pretending to be who you might want me to be.

Nowhere to start except somewhere in the middle. So I'll start at the end instead and work my way backwards. Got an email this morning from a well-meaning friend which read, "Della, you are a respected spiritual leader, and I don't think you should be saying a lot of the things you've been saying on your Facebook timeline lately because it comes across as very negative and angry and most people don't want to hear it. I'm only telling you this because I love you and value your friendship, and I don't want to see you lose friends because of your comments about politics and religion."

Wow.  Where to start on that.  Well, to begin with, I don't consider myself any sort of "respected spiritual leader." If anything, I'm just a writer who has produced several books about my journey from imbecile to enlightened crone, and who's to say if enlightenment really exists at all, or if it's only one more step on the ladder of bootstrap evolution? But here's the thing - even if I were a respected spiritual leader, I didn't get there by blowing pink smoke up anyone's ass just to see them giggle while the world was burning right behind them.

I suffer from the dark flaw of being brutally honest with people (usually not with strangers, but anyone who belongs to one of my groups or forums), and sometimes that doesn't end well because far too many "seekers" I know aren't really looking to evolve, or even to practice what they claim to believe. Most are only looking for feel-goodisms in the form of memes on the internet, and for someone to tell them "ever-thaaang's gonna be awright" even though the wolves are at the door and the fat lady has been singing since the first Tuesday in November.

And while some so-called "spiritual leaders" are willing to give you a cyberhug and assure you you're in their thoughts and prayers, I've found that in the big picture, it can be far more useful to actually allow ourselves to experience those so-called "dark emotions" from time to time, because no real change ever came from silence and obedience, but from a willingness to step out of the shadows and say in a loud voice, "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take it anymore!"

From the movie, "Network." Peter Finch as Howard Beale.
Based on Paddy Chayefsky's novel.

Point here is that I don't waste a lot of time with so-called trigger warnings or trying to coddle the overly sensitive special snowflakes who wander onto my Facebook page from time to time, and who seem to think everything must be couched in terms of kittens and free love and unicorns crapping rainbow sherbet, when the reality (especially over the past few months since the election) is that the world appears to be comprised of far more snakes and hatred and corrupt politicians crapping acid - and trying to sugar coat it with sentiments such as "putting America first". And that's about as useful as tits on a bull.

Are you still there?

If you are, good. If not, that's perfectly okay, too.

Anyone who has been on a path toward a personal evolution of consciousness for any length of time knows that the first step is pulling the plug on all those frilly programs that try to protect us or, even worse, try to blind us to the fact that 99% of all those programs are written by politicians and religious leaders and "learned men with letters after their name" - not for any noble purpose, but always and forever for their own agenda. And - now please pay attention here so I don't have to get the flying monkeys - those agendas are not in your best interest, despite what you've been told, and every time you buy into one of them, you set yourself further and further back with regard to your own goals. Not just your goals for your spiritual path, but your goals for your life.

Let's get real here. A lot of people are very angry and afraid right now, and with good reason. Telling them to "suck it up" or "get over it" or "grow a pair" really isn't helpful or at all realistic. The USA hasn't been this divided since the Civil War, even though there have been huge divisions in our people during the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights movement, and other internal conflicts along the way. Maybe a lot of racists, bigots and warmongers told the protesters in these movements to suck it up and get over it, but that only went to demonstrate their own ignorance, intolerance and - frankly - stupidity.

Be that as it may, we live in a time of great conflict at the moment, where both "sides" believe they are right, and neither side has even the most remote possibility of winning. In short, no matter what the outcome of this current situation, none of it will make one iota of difference in a million years. Agent Orange will either blow up the world or he won't. We will either be taken over by corporate greed or we won't. We will either survive... or we won't. Either way, if there are future humans still in existence to look back on our foibles, they will probably laugh at us and wonder how in all the collective worlds we didn't see this coming.

Truth is... some of us did.  And yet... No single voice is loud enough to be heard around the world unless it is amplified by the corruption of politics or the fairy tale beliefs of religion.

Long before the election, those of us who might be termed *seers* (or simply not bigots, racists, homophobes or misogynists) were shouting as loud as anyone can on social media and in the streets and wherever anyone might be listening; and yet despite the outright crimes of the man who eventually became president, those voices fell on the deaf ears of people who were afraid of losing their guns or afraid that gay marriage somehow threatened their outdated prejudices, or afraid that they would no longer be able to harass women or shoot doctors at abortion clinics, or just plain afraid that their bigotry and racism were about to be a thing of the past.

One of Donald Trump's sons, having just killed a buffalo
just for sport. Such a great example for "the first family."

Those are the people who voted for your current president. (He certainly ain't mine.)  And those are the very people who will probably be the most affected in a negative way as this administration proceeds down the road to hell. After all, it is affordable insurance that is being threatened, along with women's rights, LGBTQ rights, simple human rights, and even animal rights. (Never forget: Trump's son killing anything that moves in Africa.)  Must make a father proud.

Don't get me started. (Too late.)
_____

During an online discussion I expressed the opinion (and it was only an opinion) that perhaps the electoral college is outdated and should be abolished, in light of the fact that the world we live in now is not the same world we were living in when that same electoral college was created. And it was created by the founding fathers, just FYI, which will give you an idea of just how old it really is. Originally created "as a compromise between election of the President by a vote in Congress and election of the President by a popular vote of qualified citizens," it also served the purpose way-back-when of representing voters who were not able to get to whatever polling places existed due to extreme distances to travel or extreme weather conditions or whatever might have prevented someone from voting. In other words, the electoral college was originally designed to represent the people, but clearly that is no longer the case - particularly when a candidate actually wins the popular vote by a million or more votes, and yet still never takes office.

It was during a discussion about these facts that some know-it-all privileged white male in a steampunk get-up suggested, "You should take a civics class and pay better attention next time." At first, I could only laugh at the arrogant aggressiveness of someone who knows nothing about me or my education. But as the conversation progressed, I could only determine that he really didn't know any better, because this is how life has always been for him. Aside from being a geek (and not an endearing one like Sheldon Cooper), he also seemed to hold the opinion that his perception was right only because it followed certain "party lines" and because it was being expressed by a card-carrying member of someone who is a True Believer in the existing programs that govern the thinking and actions of anyone not ready, willing or able to step outside that box which is comprised of adherence to pre-existing belief systems that are - in many if not most cases - outdated and outrageous in the extreme.

My point was simply this:  If we're going to pretend that "the people" have a voice in their government, then having an electoral college in today's world is like having a telephone system that consists of two cans tied together with a string. With technology as it exists today, the whole voting process is outdated, but the electoral college is actually an insult to the American people, in that it has twice now flown in the face of the popular vote, and installed what amounts to a dictator into the highest office in the country, and perhaps even in the world. Point being - the electoral college clearly does not represent the people, or the candidate who won the election would actually be in office. In this day and age, almost anyone can get to the polls, or if they can't, they can easily vote by mail. So trying to pretend the EC represents anyone other than its own agenda (and the candidate most willing to line the pockets of the electors and foreign powers) is just a travesty on the highest scale.

Fact is... I did take a Civics class. More than one. And I recall my professor saying the following in response to the dismay some class members expressed when discovering that this "process" actually could usurp the popular vote. "While that's always been a possibility, it's only happened twice in the history of the country and it's highly doubtful it will happen again in any of our lifetimes." Well, since that day in a hot and stuffy classroom, it's happened twice more - once in 2000 when Dubya lost the popular election but nonetheless became president, and again in 2016 when the Trumpkin lost the popular vote by a huge margin, but nonetheless bluffed and huffed his way into the White House.

Yes, I'm angry. Not because I voted for Hillary - I'm not a fan of her either, but I wasn't about to vote for a third-party candidate, which is tantamount to voting for Trump. In an ideal world, Bernie Sanders would have been the Democratic candidate, but as we all know, this ain't an ideal world. Certainly not anymore, if ever it was.
____

The real problem a lot of Americans now face (aside from the threat of thermonuclear war) is losing our insurance, losing our basic human rights, and being dragged into the dark ages by a regime that is far more "god-fearing" than rational. Last time I checked in that Civics class, there was supposed to be a separation of church and state, but I think it's fair to say that some of these current turkeys actually believe God is some guy with a long white beard sitting on a golden throne. And, oh, by the way, he's on "our side", and just as clearly none of those religious fanatics who now hold office ever read Mark Twain's "The War Prayer."

But no matter.

I could go on. I could cite the warning signs that clearly existed long before the election, and I could even point out more than a dozen incidents in the Trumpkin's recent history that would curl the toenails of any sane human being, but... You can lead the sheeple to Knowledge, but you can't make them think.  

There's a lot more that needs to be said. And rest assured, I will eventually say it. But for now, it's time for some R&R while that's still an option.

To anyone I might have offended... sorry. (Not really.) Here's the thing about that: when someone accuses me of being "disrespectful" because of some words or ideas I have expressed, keep in mind that I respect people enough to treat them as adults and not as special snowflakes. I figure anyone who is truly interested in moving beyond their programs and pre-existing belief systems probably isn't going to be offended by an authentic and heartfelt rant (even if it doesn't agree with their philosophies). Personally, I'm much more likely to get uppity when someone insults my intelligence as opposed to if they bruise my ego. So next time, instead of telling me to go take a Civics class, why not just ask me outright if I already have. Don't assume. Don't be a passive-aggressive privileged white male just because you can.

And maybe - just maybe - listen to the voices on the wind and read the writing on the wall and think before you vote.

Then the rest of the world won't have to clean up your mess.
__________

To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:

Quantum Shaman™
Eye Scry Publications
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Many thanks and infinite blessings...

                          

          

Long and Winding Road Trip

November 17, 2002 (Florida)
The south is a vista of tall oaks, Spanish moss and shadows that blow along the ground like curious inhabitants from another world – a far cry from the desert to which I have grown accustomed. Voodoo shops in New Orleans seem familiar somehow, and one of the handmade dolls created to snare tourists into a frenzy of souvenir buying winks up at me from a basket of otherwise lifeless brothers & sisters. Of course I purchased the little fellow, stuffed him in a bag of other items collected along the way, and will undoubtedly place him on a shelf somewhere to be forgotten, just one more haunted relic, a macabre curiosity to be commented upon long after I have faced the eagle. Folly manifested.

The odd thing about New Orleans was that as I walked down Canal Street with Wendy at my side, on our way to one of those touristy tours to all the famous haunted sites in the French Quarter, I found myself suddenly overwhelmed by the presence of an ally. And as I stood looking in a storefront replete with thousands of strands of Mardi Gras beads, tiny figurines in the shapes of jazz musicians and alligators, an androgynous voice whispered in my mind, “So… you’ve finally come home.” Interesting, since I had never been to New Orleans before that day.

But immediately upon hearing that voice, I knew the city as intimately as if I’d lived there all my life. Shops that had seemed alien and perhaps even foreboding moments before suddenly became familiar, and as we walked through the city that night, I somehow knew I was walking in my own footsteps, retracing a route I’d taken dozens of times before… in a life I never lived, in a parallel reality or alternate dimension. Or through the eyes of a ubiquitous Whole Self. Whatever the explanation, if it is even possible for such an explanation to exist in ordinary awareness, it was truly a remarkable experience, walking through this city as if it were my home, knowing intimately the texture of every stone and brick in St. Louis Cathedral, “remembering” a time not so long ago when I had walked these same streets in a different mortal guise, looking out through the eyes of some other self entirely, yet clearly the same self at an energetic level, at the level of awareness, consciousness.

I have no belief in past lives as the concept is commonly understood. Instead, what I have come to see is that at that level of ubiquitous consciousness, where there is the interconnectedness of all energy, some element of Now connected strongly and deeply to some element of Then, and a door opened between the two worlds. It would be possible, of course, to say this is simply the way things are everywhere… and yet I’ve never had an ally welcome me home to Albuquerque or El Paso or Atlanta. Why New Orleans? Who’s to say?

Courtyard of our haunted hotel in the French Quarter.

That night, back in our hotel room on Canal Street, I dreamt of a ghost in the mirror, a young man who was trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying. So he just smiled warmly and gave an elegant bow, blowing me a kiss through the looking glass.

In Florida, the rains come as soon as we cross the state line, like someone throwing a switch. Windshield wipers rattle an irregular yet monotonous rhythm as we drive through the night, sandwiched between 18-wheelers pushed along by grinning phantom drivers and a produce truck bearing the badly worn hand-painted lettering: “Bubba’s Auto Repair. Cars Fixed Cheap.”

My mother, well into her 80s, insists there is a devil. Not “a” devil, but The Devil. She tells me this as she fills out her tithe envelope to take to church in the morning – a tithe she cannot afford, given to an inanimate entity, a building, a mere mortal man who claims to be a messenger from heaven. Perhaps there is a devil after all. Perhaps, as Orlando has often said, the devil’s greatest trick was convincing the world he is God.

The property as it appeared in 1961... now little more
than a shadowy, vine-covered bit of isolation,
existing only in memory, at the edge of
The Twilight Zone.

This afternoon, I drove with Wendy to the property where I grew up. Once a tiny town not even on any reputable map, now a six lane highway runs through the center of this thriving suburb. At first, I cannot even locate the property we once owned, for everything has become modernized, giant-sized, phantomized. Finally, after two passes, I realize that where our 10-unit motel once stood is now literally a small pond, complete with cattails and bullfrogs and aggressively creeping vines. Nature has taken the place back entirely. A tall chain link fence surrounds the property, and where the lake was once visible, trees have grown so thick and tall that only shadows know the location of land’s end. For all intents and purposes, what should have been a prime piece of real estate has been abandoned by time, reclaimed by the wild.

A little shiver passed through me, and for a moment I was 17 again. Knowing I would be leaving the following morning for Miami, probably never to live on that ground where I had grown up ever again, I sat at dusk with the spirit of the lake, listening to the water lapping at the side of a rowboat that was half-filled with stagnant water, a relic sinking back into the earth. My back was pressed against the rough bark of my favorite tree, and somewhere in the distance, somebody was playing an old guitar. Nothing ever seemed to change in that place, and so I closed my eyes and promised the spirit of the lake that no harm would ever come to her. No rich socialite would build a mock-plantation on her shore. No McDonald’s would spring up next to her. No one would ever despoil her beauty, I told her.

And at that time, in my 17-year-old teen-angst of moving away from home for the first time, I meant it.

So today when we pulled into what was once our driveway, I could only gaze in wonder at what had become of that promise, that secret, silent intent. Only a peaceful pond exists where buildings once stood, the very property itself permanently and irrevocably flooded. I smiled quietly to myself, then as the full implications of what I was witnessing hit me, I broke into laughter which was answered by an echo from deep in the sheltering shadows of the trees. The spirit of the lake seemed to share my amusement, and for a single moment, that door between Then and Now opened wide and there was no difference between that young girl and the laughing woman and the infinite.

Allies and phantoms and devils, oh my! What a long, strange trip it’s been.

_____

To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:

Quantum Shaman™
Eye Scry Publications
Quantum Shaman's™ Blog
Della Van Hise on Amazon
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Many thanks and infinite blessings...

                          

          

Observations From the Edge of Time

An Excerpt from "Questions Along the Way"

A seeker wrote:
It's easy enough to be a warrior and practice the right way to live in the serenity of my own home, but what about at work or when I'm forced to engage with my family and friends? Can we really be cohesive and whole and walk the path through the real world?

To me, that's what the path is - because, as Orlando pointed out years ago: "There is only one world, divided infinitely by perception." If we're one person at work and another at home and another at grandma's house for the holidays, we are fragmented and unwhole. And yet, as another seeker said...

It's easy enough to be a monk in a monastery, but how does that same monk fare in a whorehouse? 

As I awoke from a nap one afternoon, it was to the sound of fierce winds hammering at the house, rushing through the trees with such force that even a huge desert pine was threatening to snap, and slamming sand and debris against the window with such fury that it seemed the glass would surely shatter. It occurred to me that I should be worried, or I should be unhappy that a storm was blowing in, or I should get up and go see what needed to be secured. It was deep into dusk, and if I didn't act quickly, darkness would soon obscure my way.

"Be alarmed!" the voice of reason seemed to shout.

Instead, I simply lay there feeling exhilarated by the whole thing, listening to the voice of gnosis which whispered, Eternity is in that wind. It is not the wind nor the objects blown by the wind. It is the force behind the wind that is both calm and fierce, dark and light, life and death and everything in between. Yet it is none of those things - and therein lies its nature and its power.

Impossible to describe the mindset I had awakened into - but suffice to say it was where I most want to be in life - a state of ecstasy and detachment all at once. In that manifestation of the crack between the worlds - the perpetual dusk that must certainly reside at the end of all things - there were no worries, no concerns, no agendas. Dinner would wait. There were no wars to be fought, no disasters to divert, no immediate demands. My weenie dog was sleeping soundly at my side. Orlando was with me in a way that is impossible to describe - a tangible presence in the room, an essence of Spirit blown in on that magical wind.

For several minutes, I simply lay there absorbing it all - the actuality of silent knowing, the visceral reality of the crack between the worlds, and the serenity that came with simply Being a being who could perceive and experience the magnificence of it all - the violence of the wind, the eerie gold-grey light that hangs in the air after a sandstorm, the perfection of a single moment in all of time.

But eventually time drags us forward again, and even though a warrior takes those perfected moments with her into the world, there is nonetheless an undeniable speed bump that delineates the passage from one world to the other.

As I got up and peered out the window toward the west, it was easy to see the damage. A large lantern in our yard was blown over and shattered; trash littered the Joshua trees; and one of the light-up Christmas trees had been dislodged from its stakes and was rolling down the driveway like some runaway toy afraid of being shoved back in the closet to endure a long season of darkness before it would be in good favor with the human consensus again.

Minor inconveniences, of course. Just things I noted during this passage between the worlds on a New Year's Eve of no particular significance.

So I cooked dinner, brought in some firewood, picked up the shattered lantern, and generally began going through the machinations of real life - and even though I was still pondering that profound state of mind, I was left with a sense of wanting to return to the monastery of my silence rather than putting myself through these strange actions which have no meaning whatsoever.

The world is a nuthouse and the lunatics are running the asylum, Orlando reminded me as I stood looking out the kitchen window to where the winds were causing even the stalwart Joshua trees to shiver like cold, brittle children.

I sighed softly, for even though I have uttered those words countless times as a source of amusement, I cannot deny that they are also terribly true. As I stood there in my silence, I could literally feel the other humans gearing up en masse for drunken parties, excursions to various clubs where they would engage in The Mating Dance, and all manner of debauchery assigned the label of "fun", and all of it occurring only because it was the night on which we throw away last year's "Puppies" calendar and replace it with this year's "Kittens".

Arbitrary demarcations of time.

Some of those humans would even die as a result of their revelries - and though some might argue that it is better to have been puking drunk than never to have partied at all, I'm not the least bit sure that is a sentiment with which I could agree.

It is madness when viewed from outside the container of its own agreement.

The winds have gone still on the first day of the new year, and as I gaze out my window toward the west, it is to see a new snowfall on the top of Mt. San Gorgonio. The silence there must be phenomenal.

_____

To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:

Quantum Shaman™
Eye Scry Publications
Quantum Shaman's™ Blog
Della Van Hise on Amazon
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Many thanks and infinite blessings...

                          

          

Deep Inner Meaning

Excerpted from "Questions Along the Way"
A Quantum Shaman book by Della Van Hise
_____
A seeker once asked...
I realized recently that so much of what we believe is just the byproduct of what we've been told to believe. That being the case, how do we know what's real beyond all the lies?

As one advances on the path of knowledge, one resists assigning meaning to most things entirely - because it becomes clear over time that it's the conclusions we draw that are often in error, while the experience itself remains just what it is, whether it can be understood or not. For example, I'm always amused by websites offering to sell certain crystals with this or that "special properties." Quartz for clarity! Amethyst for healing! Aventurine for fertility!

They're just rocks. All of these meanings are only random assignations by humans, but the thing-itself is just the thing-itself. We might decide that quartz resonates and pulsates at the vibrational frequency of clarity, but that’s just a lot of yada – words wrapped around the rock to make it more appealing and, let's face it, more saleable. Words meaning nothing.

With that said, a seeker might decide to assign meaning to a stone as a tool of "fake it till you make it”, but ultimately a woman of Knowledge sees the underlying truth: it's still just a rock. The fact that it is a pretty rock or a different kind of rock doesn't alter the fact that it's still a rock. And, of course, "pretty" and "different" are also just random assignations.

The only thing that makes gold so valuable is our belief. The only thing that has kept the economy functioning for so long is our belief that there is gold behind all that paper. As the mass beliefs start to disintegrate, as the conclusions we have drawn cease to have meaning, the thing itself reverts to just what-it-is...

No-thing. 

In the human world, it seems there is virtually no way to have a society that doesn't depend on conclusions and illusions, agreements and consensuses. If our economy weren't based on gold and paper, it would be based on beans and bones, or trains and taters. Point being: it seems our survival as organic beings depends on certain assignations of meaning, but at the same time our inorganic freedom depends on seeing beyond those things upon which our organic survival depends.  

It's no coincidence that this is somewhat of a flawless trap - a basic construct of the consensual agreement which some have referred to as the foreign installation - a set of beliefs which amount to a false program that permeates the entire human race.

Now more than ever - think for yourself, see with the third eye... question everything, your beliefs and conclusions most of all.

All Rights Reserved
To read more question & answer dialogues, please purchase "Questions Along the Way." 
Many thanks and blessings,
Della Van Hise

To download my free e-book, click here: The Things That Do Matter

 If you'd like to know more about Quantum Shamanism™
and my work in general, please visit my websites at:

Quantum Shaman™
Eye Scry Publications
Quantum Shaman's™ Blog
Della Van Hise on Amazon
Follow Me On Facebook

Join our discussions on Facebook

Or buy my books on Amazon or EyeScryPublications.com

Many thanks and infinite blessings...