“Reach within you, and fight with tools.” —the Flobots.
Belief is a tool, perhaps the most effective one in our soul battle, in the landscape of consciousness, where paradigm shifts occur. How do we make this consciousness real without losing ourselves? How do we enact a story we’ve never been told? How do we reclaim our birthrights of mental and physical health, freedom from bureaucratic oppression, a membership in the reciprocal divine trust, and countless others we’ve forgotten? How do we begin to envision this story, knowing that our wildest dreams of freedom are mere seeds of this next beautiful paradigm?
I get the feeling the word paradise and the visions of the garden of Eden are concepts we can’t yet fully take in, even if we think we’re ready for it. But still. Belief is a tool, and quite an effective one at that. We say “abracadabrazomba”, flap our butterfly wings, and find ourselves taking the form of chaos magicians, with change springing up in our footsteps, akin to the fruitful oases springing up in the wake of the Green Man, Khadir. We endow ourselves with magic spells, super powers—whatever it takes to make us powerful, full of energy and spirit. We radiate the golden cords, illuminating the way in front of us, the untrodden path.
Somehow, we make it together. We figure it out—all of us. If there is a human story a few thousand years from now, this will be a part of it. There are no slaves in the landscape of consciousness. War is confusion, trickster friends and allies; we must remember our heritage. Hermes, divine thief, is poised to steal this current absurd reality of civilization. For a chaos magician, presto change-o reality is easy. Our consciousness manifests as reality. They make believe they are still in charge. We make believe we are in charge—of our own selves, to be sure!
The ties that bind us to the old ways are slipping away. We have only to create new ways of living, to participate in a new kind of economy. We create rituals and myths around things that are actually important, not merely advertised as sacred. The relationship between city and citizen is practically nonexistent, but the relationships in our communities are born of love and are getting stronger with each day. These things are real. If you’ve ever lived through a natural disaster or (gods forbid!) encountered FEMa, you have learned that our government cannot take care of us and does not look out for our welfare. You remember that we have only each other. We are our strength, courage, and love. If you’ve never lived through a natural disaster, there’s no reason to wait. Community, yep. All that.
Nature practices fecundity. It is organized to create abundance; we are nourished by it, in vivid contrast to the stark neglect we experience from those to whom we pay taxes. Pavement and poison are effed up, tentacles of the destruction empire machine. We extend our own tentacles, aiming for the blind spots of civilization, filling them up with love, beauty life—manifesting the reality of this as-of-yet unveiled paradise.
The landscape of consciousness, this divine boundary between worlds, is where trickster warriors play. It is where “do what thou wilt” becomes the whole of the law. I shall meet you there. Who knows what we may create with our many allies, with our minds fully engaged in the task before us? Adventure to those who seek it!