Backlash, Whiplash

Posted on August 15, 2017 by Trish and Rob

No doubt we’ve all  heard plenty of opinions about what happened over the weekend in Charlottesville and how the president responded. The tragedy wasn’t personal to him. He knows the young woman who died no doubt didn’t support him. But the perpetrator and his racist, Nazi, KKK, alt.right compatriots are his supporters. So he just read what his staff had written for him, first blaming the ‘many sides,’ then two days later getting more specific about the violence-prone racists. But there was no passion in his words either time, and he didn’t reject their support. After all, he is the one who has emboldened the masses of hate-mongers on the right with his birther conspiracy and his race-baiting campaign.

Monday afternoon I decided to meditate on the question about why, in the year 2017, we are still dealing with hate groups marching in the South with torches, carrying semi-automatic weapons, and baseball bats. Haven’t we progressed past those days of segregation and lynchings? The Nazi slogan ‘blood and soil’ was shouted out right along with ‘take America Back.’ Back where, to white-only bathrooms, poll taxes for blacks? Why not AM radio and black and white TV as well?

I put those thoughts out as I drifted into my meditative state. Finally, I let it go and cleared my mind and waited to see what, if anything, might emerge. Almost immediately an answer came to me in a vision and a voice. I saw a speed boat idling on a body of water. On board was a woman I’ve never seen before. The boat suddenly sped forward and she fell back in her seat.

The woman turned, looked at me and  said: When we move rapidly ahead, there’s a reaction in the opposite direction. That was it. The comment to me referred to those Americans who feel threatened by change and are fighting to hold onto the past, who see the direction of the racial make-up and the growing political power of minorities as a reason to get angry. That fear and anger brought on the election of a completely unqualified buffoon, a man only interested in his own legacy, his own success, his own pride at the expense of anyone who blocked his way.

In the vision, the woman fell back into her seat, but she didn’t fall overboard, and the boat continued on. That to me suggests that we have a rocky path ahead, that there will be more incidents like what happened in Charlottesville. That’s especially true if the perceived leader of the alt.right, D.T., is removed from office – a growing possibility. But the country moves ahead.

 

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SPAM

Posted on August 14, 2017 by Trish and Rob

When I was a kid, spam was the gross stuff that came out of a can. Now it’s the gross stuff that ends up in your email, your blog, your website. I’m not sure what the purpose is. Spammers must be getting paid by someone, somewhere, to advertise something, but c’mon, some of these spams are ridiculous.

First, there’re the spammers who leave long messages in Chinese, Japanese, or Russian. No telling what they’re advertising or advocating.

Then there are the spammers who write about how women can produce breast milk when they aren’t pregnant. This one sounds sort of kinky to me, but honestly, what woman would want to produce breast milk when not pregnant?

Then there’s the usual porn spam announcing live videos of threesomes! Foursomes! And child porn, yes siree, pull up your seats and bring your popcorn.

But one of my favorites – and this guy hasn’t stopped by for awhile – was from a guy who has a serious mental issue about American women, how awful they are – unfaithful, shallow, the pits. One evening, I actually went to his website, clicking onto it from Google, not the blog, and read a couple of his nauseating posts about how many hits he was getting from men fed up with American women. Asian women were the way to go, they were grateful, wonderful, compliant etc. etc.

Several times, we got spams about consulting a particular psychic. I noted the psychic’s name, tracked down his email address, and wrote him and asked him to stop spamming our blog. He emailed me back and claimed he didn’t know anything about it. Yeah, sure. The spams kept appearing.

Then there are the real psychos, the ones who might follow you into a dark alley some night and do unspeakable things to you if they catch you. I think of them as the shadow people, the truly disenfranchised, bitter, sorry souls who have nothing but time on their hands and can’t think of any better way to use that time.

I don’t get any of it. Why would people who speak Chinese or Japanese or Russian spam a blog written in English? Are they paid by how many spams they send out? Do they, on their job resumes, list SPAMMER as their profession?

I used to see spammers as an annoyance. Now I’m beginning to regard them as individuals with such serious mental problems that they belong in padded cells, pumped up on anti-psychotic drugs.

Then there are the hits that come from government agencies – the NSA, DEA, DIA, FBI, the acronym spy agencies. They don’t leave comments, spam or otherwise, and usually appear on posts we write about aliens, abductions, contact, the truly weird stuff. Early on in this blog’s life, those hits were unnerving. I kept expecting to encounter a man in black at our grocery store. Now they’re just puzzling and lead me to believe that the government doesn’t know much more than the rest of us about alien life or things that defy science, that they’re struggling to piece things together.

So, dudes, spammers and spies alike, go feast on these two books and leave us alone, okay?

 

 

 

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What is it?

Posted on August 12, 2017 by Trish and Rob

This is a night-blooming cactus in our backyard. But what’s this:

It’s greater than God and worse than the devil. Rich people want it and poor people have it. If you eat it, you die.

Any guesses? Think about it. Send us your answer. If no one gets it, I’ll provide the answer tomorrow. One clue: the Peaceful Warrior knows the answer!

 

 

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Mercury Retrograde Alert

Posted on August 10, 2017 by Trish and Rob

Advance warning. Buckle up! Mercury – the planet that rules communication and travel – turns retrograde two days from now, on August 12, at 9 p.m. EDT, in earth sign Virgo at 11 degrees. On September 5, it turns direct in Leo. Mercury rules both Virgo and Gemini, so those two signs will feel the impact most strongly. However, everyone feels these retrogrades to some degree.

During Mercury retrogrades, miscommunication is often rampant, electronics and appliances break down, it’s unwise to launch new projects or sign contracts. Instead, follow the rule of the three Rs: revise, review, reconsider. Mercury also rules moving parts, so it’s wise not to buy a car or electronic device during the retro.

If you’re traveling during this period, try to go with the flow because you may experience delays or abrupt changes in your schedule. It’s also probable that you’ll return to the location you’re visiting at some point within the next year or so.

Mercury will still be retrograde on the day of the solar eclipse, August 21. Since this eclipse will be total in some parts of the U.S., solar power grids may go down and cell phone coverage may be spotty. California and North Carolina, the two states that have the largest solar power infrastructure, are preparing natural gas backups.

And just in case you missed the post about what this solar eclipse may portend, here’s a link to it.

And, a shameless plug, in The Biggest Book of Horoscopes Ever, you’ll find all the info you could possibly need for successfully navigating 2017-2019, monthly roundups for all 12 signs.

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An Eerie Trump Synchro

Posted on August 8, 2017 by Trish and Rob

Global synchros may be more common than we realize, and often underscore the idea that the universe actually has a sense of humor! This one involves a series of books written by Ingersoll Lockwood in the late 1800s: Baron Trump’s Marvellous Underground Journey.

 It’s about a wealthy kid, Baron, who lives in Castle Trump. His adventures start with a man named Don, the “Master of all Masters, who convinces him to travel to Russia, where the discovery of a portal enables him to travel to other lands.

Newsweek wrote about the coincidences in the books and noted that with Ingersoll’s final book in the series, The Last President, “the link to Trump are once again abundantly clear. The president’s hometown of New York City is fearing the collapse of the republic in this book, also titled 1900, immediately following the transition of presidential power. Some Americans begin forming a resistance, protesting what was seen as a corrupt and unethical election process.”

What’s especially interesting about this synchro is how it has taken off among internet conspiracy theorists. They believe the portal to other worlds in the books supports a theory that the Trump family has had access to time travel for many years ― through the president’s uncle, engineer John Trump. Apparently John Trump had access to the papers of Nikola Tesla, who was researching time travel, and this knowledge enabled Trump to win the 2016 presidential election.

This synchro is similar to one involving Edgar Allan Poe and his unfinished sea novel, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, where Poe seems to have tapped into the future. The tale includes a scenario about three men and a sixteen-year-old boy who are drifting at sea in a lifeboat after being shipwrecked. Desperate, on the brink of starvation, they decide to draw lots to determine which of them will be killed and eaten. The cabin boy, Richard Parker, picks the dreaded short straw and is promptly stabbed and consumed.

On July 25, 1884, forty-seven years after Poe stopped working on the novel, a 17-year-old cabin boy named Richard Parker was killed and eaten in a similar incident. Young Richard Parker was on his first voyage on the high seas, boarding the Mignonette in Southampton, England bound for Australia. But when the ship reached the South Atlantic, it was pummeled by a hurricane and sank. The survivors, who had boarded a lifeboat, had few provisions and after 19 days became desperate. The men discussed drawing lots to choose a victim who would be eaten by the others, but settled on Parker, who had become delirious from drinking seawater. The remaining crew survived on Richard’s carcass for another thirty-five days until they were rescued by the S.S. Montezuma, aptly named after the cannibal king of the Aztecs.

Both of these stories illustrate how creativity enables us to tap into the future. We talk about this in a chapter of our book on precognition, where we cover writers, artists, and musicians who tapped into the future through their work.

But the Baron Trump synchro is one of the eeriest we’ve come across!

 

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#137, again

Posted on August 6, 2017 by Trish and Rob

Today as I left the dentist’s office, I got on the elevator on the second floor and glanced at my watch. It was 1:37. As soon as the doors opened on the first floor, the first thing I saw through the glass doors were the numbers on the building directly across the road: 1037. I haven’t had a 137 synchro since 2012 and immediately wondered what it meant.

But first, a recap on this number.

Wolfgang Pauli, a physicist and Nobel laureate, was an early supporter of Jung’s theory on synchronicity and investigated the phenomenon as well. He had a rather striking experience with a set of numbers. Pauli was confounded by one of the unsolved mysteries of modern physics, the value of the fine structure constant, which involves the number 137.

A prime number can be divided by 1 and by itself. Or, put another way, a prime number is a positive integer that cannot equal the product of two smaller integers. That makes 137 a prime number and a particularly baffling one. In Deciphering the Cosmic Number: the Strange Friendship of Wolfgang Pauli and Carl Jung, Arthur I. Miller provides a brief, but fascinating history about the number 137 in the world of quantum physics.

The number became so baffling to physicists that the great Richard Feynman, who won the Nobel Prize in 1965 for his contributions to the development of quantum electrodynamics, said that physicists should put a sign in their offices to remind themselves of how much they don’t know. The sign would be simple: 137.

Not only is 137 “the DNA of light,” as Miller puts it, but also is the number associated with the Kabbalah. In a system that sounds very much like numerology, Miller explains that in ancient Hebrew, numbers were written with letters, and each letter has a number associated with it. “Adepts of the philosophical system known as the Gematria add the numbers in Hebrew words and thus find hidden meanings in them.” In Hebrew, the word Kabbalah has four letters that add up to 137. Not surprisingly, physicists began referring to 137 as a mystical number.

Pauli certainly found this to be the case. He wrestled with its implications most of his life. When he was admitted to the hospital at the age of 58 and learned he would be in room 137, he supposedly said, “I will never get out of here.” And he was right. He died shortly afterward.

The last time I experienced a cluster of 137s was when Rob and I were in Toronto, where I was interviewed for William Shatner’s show,   Weird or What?  I was supposed to talk about the Pauli effect –  i.e., the spontaneous breakdown of laboratory equipment in his presence. This psychokinetic effect was to be presented as a possible theory for what was happening to a woman who believed she was the victim of government mind control. And since we were there to talk about Pauli, it seemed fitting that we experienced a clusters of 137. It was as if Pauli welcomed us to Toronto, then showed us around, and waved good-bye as we left. That photo at the top of the post is from Toronto.

But back to today’s 137s. When I got in the elevator and looked at the time, then exited the elevator and saw my second 137, I wasn’t thinking about Pauli. However, I associate this number with the DNA of light and with synchronicity, and suddenly remembered we have a proposal circulating on creativity and synchronicity. The rapid succession with which the two “sightings” occurred (the 15 or 20 seconds it took the elevator to reach the first floor) bodes well, I think, for this proposal “seeing the light” – getting sold.

 

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The Singing Stone

Posted on August 4, 2017 by Trish and Rob

Occasionally, we put up blog posts that have previously appeared. This is one of them, and it was old enough that at first I didn’t remember it. It’s a good one and worth bringing back for an encore. Here it is.

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Since we often write about our books here, we like to plug other people’s books from time to time. This one, Synchronicity, Science & Soul-Making, by Victor Mansfield, has been around awhile, published in 1995. In fact, when we wrote our first synchro book, The 7 Secrets of Synchronicity, Mansfield’s tome on meaningful coincidence was one of our reference sources. The writing is somewhat academic in tone, as might be expected from a physics professor, but the pages are filled with an abundance of interesting stories.

Here’s one from a young woman who was preoccupied with a question that repeated itself over and over again in her head: Who am I? “I have carried it for years through studies in psychology and philosophy and it has been the foundation for many hours of meditation.”

Her story began with a friend telling her that the Havdensvanee (or Iroquois) name for Seneca Lake was Ganadasege ti karneo dei. He told her the spirits of the lake love to hear the old name as no one says it much any more. And they respond, he added.

“I am a person who believes in the living nature of our surroundings and so, without much hesitation, decided it was a friendly gesture to go to the lake and chant the name. I frequent a particular beach, so I grabbed my coat, hat, and my mother, who was visiting me, and headed to the beach one cold blustery October morning.”

She and her mother walked along the shore, both chanting the ancient name for the lake. At one point, she felt warmth. She continued on and it was cold again. She backed and found the place of warmth. For some reason, she thought, she was being called to this particular place on the lake’s edge. She looked down and scanned the small rocks until her gaze fell on a peculiar stone. It was smooth and black and had several hollows in the surface that seemed to form eyes, two nostril holes, and a gaping mouth.

She stopped chanting and picked up the stone. She felt it was important for her to take the stone home. She kept it by her bed and at night before turning off the light she would pick it up and ask: What song am I to hear? The stone offered no response.

One day her brother-in-law came to her house and picked up the stone. He blew into one of the holes. Suddenly, a sharp whistling emanated from the stone. He kept blowing until he discovered eight distinct tones. They named it the ‘Singing Stone.’

She continued asking the stone what song she would hear, and one night she got an answer. She came home late one night from a philosophy class, stood outside and gazed at the stars awhile. When she went inside, she had an impression that she should look at her bookshelves. She was drawn to two books, one of Native American stories, the other by Ramana Maharshi, a Hindu sage.

Opening it, she was stunned to see: The Story of the Singing Stone. Her spine tingling, as she read about the story of a girl’s long search for the Singing Stone, a stone that would be magical for the one who found it. She searched in the four directions, but was unable to find the stone. One day, she stood on a bluff and looked down to see her family below, their arms open, beckoning her. “Welcome home Singing Stone!”

The book went on to interpret the tale as addressing the question: ‘Who am I?’ The young seeker was the Singing Stone.

The woman picked up the second book, and opened it to a chapter entitled, ‘Who am I?’ She realized the stone had answered her through the story. She was the Singing Stone. This was her song.

As if that story within a story was not strange enough, I should add that I’m in the midst of writing a meditation book, based on the meditation classes I teach, and recently I was working on a new meditation. It’s called: ‘Who am I?’

Postscript: 2008 was a significant year in Victor Mansfield’s life. His last book, Tibetan Buddhism and Modern Physics: Toward a Union of Love and Knowledge, was published and included an introduction written by His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Victor gave a copy of the book to him during a visit to Colgate University, where he taught for 35 years as a professor of physics and astronomy. Also in April, he was the co-recipient of the Sidney J. and Florence Felten French Prize for inspirational teaching. He died of lymphoma June 3, 2008.

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That meditation book mentioned  that I was writing at the time is called Jewel in the Lotus: Meditation for Busy Minds. It was published in 2015 and includes a meditation called “Who Am I?”

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Democracy & the Dodo Bird

Posted on August 2, 2017 by Trish and Rob

 

I was born and raised in Venezuela. I grew up under the dictatorship of Perez Jimenez who, in 1958, fled to the U.S. after embezzling an estimated $200 million from the Venezuelan oil coffers. I remember standing on the balcony of the apartment where my sister and I lived with our parents, watching Jimenez’s motorcade racing down the mountain roads toward the airport.

I remember my dad saying, “There’s going to be a revolution in this country. We’re going to have to leave.”

And in 1963, when the government nationalized the oil companies, we left.

Venezuela always has been rich in oil. It’s why my dad went there in 1937, an accountant for Creole, a subsidiary of Exxon. During the turmoil of Jimenez’s reign and afterward, we experienced bombings in the city, turmoil, chaos. I remember walking into our local supermarket during these tense times and finding the shelves bare because a strike was underway. Or a revolution had started. Maybe it was training for what happens South Florida when a hurricane is on the way.

In the 1980s, wealthy Venezuelans arrived in South Florida for lunch, pedicures, shopping sprees. Now many of them are refugees fleeing to the U.S. and to Colombia.   Now, thanks to the regime of Nicholas Maduro, the people don’t have the basics – food, clean water, jobs. After more than 100 days of street protests, in which hundreds of Venezuelans have been killed, Maduro has tossed out the Venezuelan congress and intends to rewrite the constitution so that the executive – Maduro – has more power.

Sound familiar?

Maduro is like Trump, a congenital liar, a guy who promises much and never delivers. Now that sanctions have been imposed by the trump administration, it means the locals are hurt, the ones who lack food, clean water, medical services.  But it’s not clear that trump understands what that means. It’s not clear that trump understands anything about how the world works.

These sanctions, like those the U.S. imposed against Cuba for nearly 60 years, won’t change Maduro or his authoritarian rule. Nothing changed in Cuba until Castro died and his brother took over, and Obama re-opened diplomatic relations. Trump has now scaled back travel to Cuba for Americans – even though we can still fly freely to China, Saudi Arabia, even North Korea, countries whose dictatorships and human rights violations are appalling.

Here’s an excellent article from The Guardian about the parallels around the world to what trump is doing to the U.S., a hollowing out of Democracy. From Maduro in Venezuela, to Putin in Russia to Turkey’s president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (and that’s just for starters, Democracy may go the way of the dodo bird.

From The Guardian:

Let’s be brutal: democracy is dying. And the most startling thing is how few ordinary people are worried about it. Instead we compartmentalise the problem. Americans worried about the present situation typically worry about Trump – not the pliability of the most fetishised constitution in the world to kleptocratic rule. EU politicians express polite diplomatic displeasure, as Erdoğan’s AK party machine attempts to degrade their own democracies. As in the early 1930s, the death of democracy always seems to be happening somewhere else.

 In the U.S., it’s happening right in front of us.

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What the August Solar Eclipse May Portend

Posted on August 1, 2017 by Trish and Rob

Alex Miller is a master of asteroid astrology and his recent post on the August 21 eclipse and what it may portend from trump – and the rest of us, in a collective sense, is fascinating.

The American Eclipse

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The Bat that Visited Jane

Posted on July 30, 2017 by Trish and Rob

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tdulo5sNa2M

Our friend, Jane Clifford , a psychic healer who lives in Wales, has had several experiences with bats.

In her first experience, she’d been talking by phone with a fellow psychic who told her a bat would be visiting her and that it portended something important. While they were talking, a bat flew into her home. Several days later, her close friend – a soul sister – passed away.

Most recently, she had another bat experience. Her dog had noticed something in her closet and although Jane looked inside she didn’t see anything, and turned out the lights to go to sleep. But suddenly, something was tangled in her hair and she got it out and turned on the light. It was a bat.

In the UK, these creatures are protected, so she called the bat rescue number. Busy. She tried to give it water and some food, then moved the little critter to a box and set it outside, hoping it would fly away. It didn’t. It died.

Esoterically, bats are symbols of many things and their meaning depends on who you read. Ted Andrews, the guru of this stuff, says that according to the Native American tribes in the northwestern U.S., bats are symbols of diligence. In the Great Plains, they imparted wisdom on their people.  In the southwest and Mexico, they are representative of death and rebirth, because they go underground in the early morning, and then appear again each night in a noisy hoard.  So they are reborn every night, flooding out from their caves.

Bats often represent death in the sense of letting go of the old, and bringing in the new.  They are symbols of transition, of initiation, and the start of a new beginning.

 So what’s the message here for Jane? What does its appearance portend? The death of a loved one? Some sort of profound personal transformation? I’ve never experienced a bat as a messenger, so I don’t know. But this little guy sure was cute. And the fact that he got entangled in her hair indicates that he tried hard to communicate something.

 

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