A rather strange anomaly. This glow in Bejing lasted for 20 minutes. Would that happen with the remnants of a satellite?
And just for some perspective, here’s an interesting speech from a former head of the FAA about a sighting in 1986, by a pilot of Japanese Airlines Flight 1628:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P51LmirTJI8&feature=player_embedded
Even though this story is two years old, it was news to us, probably because the American press typically doesn’t cover crop circle stories. The Telegraph of the UK, however, apparently does report on crop circles, grouping them in the category of the odd and unusual. In this story, a police officer decided to investigate some unusual activity inside a crop circle.
The officer, who isn’t named in the article, spotted three men all blond, over six-feet tall and wearing the same white outfits. At first he thought they were forensic officers, stopped his car, and approached the field. As he moved closer to the crop circle, he heard a crackling sound like electric static and saw the crops moving gently back and forth.
According to crop circle researcher Andrew Russell, ”He shouted to the figures who, at first, ignored him, not glancing at him. When he tried to enter the field, they looked up and began running.
He said they ran faster than any man he has ever seen. “I’m no slouch but they were moving so fast. I looked away for a second and when I looked back they were gone.’I then got scared. The noise was still around, but I got an uneasy feeling and headed for the car. For the rest of the day I had a pounding headache I couldn’t shift.”
We found mention of this story in the last chapter of The Source Field Investigations, by David Wilcox. Then we found it on the Internet in the Telegraph’s archives.
The crop circle photo is one we came across when searching for an image. But it probably isn’t the one referred to in the story. We like it, though!
Our editor asked us to start a Sydney Omarr blog, so we’re cross-posting here.
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The full moon this month falls on September 12, in Pisces, a water sign.
The moon symbolizes our inner lives, our emotions, our capacity to nurture others and self, and it usually represents your nurturing parent. Full moons typically signal a culmination point, a harvest, a completion of something. With this moon in Pisces, certain qualities are emphasized: imagination, intuition, dreams, indecision. Your head wants to do one thing, your heart another.
Jupiter, the planet of expansion and luck, forms a wide, beneficial angle to this moon. The indication is that whatever you feel may be greatly exaggerated by the moon’s contact with Jupiter. Instead of waking up feeling good, you wake up feeling ecstatic, so it’s a great time to do some visualization and back it with powerful emotion.
Mars, symbolic of our aggression and ambition, sexuality and physicality, is in water sign Cancer and also forms a beneficial angle to this moon. This angle may indicate a lot of emotional activity that drives you forward during the day. Hmm: drama? There could be plenty of that. You or people around you may be acting out. Shrug it off. This, too, shall pass.
Water signs – Pisces, Cancer, Scorpio – will be most affected by this full moon. However, we all have Pisces somewhere in our natal charts, so be sure to check your chart to see where Pisces falls.If it’s on the cusp of your second house, for instance, then your financial area will feel the impact. Earth signs will be impacted as well – Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn, and in a positive way. However, Pisces is opposed to Virgo, so it could be a bit of a dicey days for Virgos. On the other hand, it may be just what you Virgos need, a dreamy day to kick back and chill.
Some other dates to note for this month:
September 3 could be one of the luckiest days all year. Jupiter and the sun are in cahoots and that means expansion and good things for all of us. Even though Jupiter is retrograde for the entire month, it’s not as big a deal as Mercury retrograde. For Virgos in particular and earth and water signs generally, you’ll enjoy this day immensely.
September 16 features a change in signs for Venus, symbolic of love and romance, money, the finger things in life! It moves from Virgo to Libra, which benefits air signs – Gemini, Libra, Aquarius – and fire signs – Aries, Leo, Sagittarius. It remains there till October 9. So, all you air and fire signs, love the one you’re with and be with the one you love.
On September 17, Pluto turns direct in Capricorn after many months of being retrograde. Pluto rules water sign Scorpio, so for you folks, that’s good news. Well, it’s actually good news for all of us. Things really drag when Pluto isn’t functioning at optimal capacity. Maybe the politicians will finally get their acts together and pass legislation that actually helps, you know, we the people.
That trickster, Mercury, which rules communication, travel, your conscious mind,occupies three signs this month. It’s now moving in direct motion, a relief, and when it changes signs, our communication skills also change. It begins the month in fire sign Leo, so you may be communicating in a more flamboyant fashion. On September 9, Mercury enters Virgo. This transit suggests a more discerning, intellectual approach in your communications. Details are important. You may be more health conscious. On September 25, Mercury enters Libra, a more gregarious, people-oriented sign. Your communications take on a lighter approach, you network more.
Mars enters Leo on September 18, a transit all you fire signs and air signs will enjoy. You’ll feel energized physically, enthusiastic about whatever you’re involved in, and will be ready to strut your stuff.
We’ll cover the new moon in Libra on September 27 in a separate post. That’s going to be a rock ‘n rolling day!
Noah and his karmic buddy Cody
When Rob and Megan left to visit his family in Minneapolis. Noah was feeling down in the dumps because his primary human had left (I’m a distant second in the Noah scheme of things), so I decided that if the weather cooperated, I would take him to the dog park early today. Around five that day, it was cloudy and marginally cooler (93) and the air smelled of rain. I hoped for a synchro and brought along a book, figuring the park would be empty. It wasn’t.
Cody’s human, Karin, had already arrived and set up the doggie tarp pool. Several other women were also there whose names I don’t know. But I could pick their dogs out of a police lineup – Thunder and Bruno, big, gentle boys; Lou and Bru, a pair of Dobermans who are major Frisbee players; Lily, a playful black lab; an Obama pooch (non allergenic) who is on meds for epileptic seizures; and then Mia and Bandit, a Husky and Corgi who belong to Rob’s private yoga student, Diana.
This group typically congregates around the dog pool, in the middle park (there are four adjoining parks for various sizes of dogs). Another group of dogs and their humans occupy a vastly shady area on the far side of the other large dog park. In this group are some lazy collies and a couple of smaller dogs. Of these dogs, I know Mikey – a busy little terrier who enjoys humans, greets the people who know his name, but who generally spends about two hours crisscrossing the park with his nose to the ground. He wants to play with other dogs, enjoys chasing and being chased, but every time he starts doing this, his human – let’s call her Dot – calls him on it, her voice echoing across the park like the shrill cry of a banshee.
“Mikey, Mikey, get over here!”
Several days ago, Mikey trotted over to our group to greet everyone, and suddenly a man came hurrying after him, shouting his name, with Dot hurrying along behind him. Karin remarked, “Mikey likes our side of the park.”
Dot gave Karin the strangest, coldest look, and sniped, “Yeah, he likes hanging out with the lower class.”
Karin and I just looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Did she really say that?” I asked.
It turned out that Karin and Dot had arrived at the park at the same time that day and Dot told Karin that Cody should be banned from the park. “He plays too roughly.”
Karin, a non-confrontational woman, simply shrugged. “That’s how dogs play.”
Dot is odd. She always wears a hat, long sleeved shirts and long pants – even when it’s 101 out – and carries a bag that contains who knows what. Dot never says hello to anyone except the people she sits with on the far side of the park. Even if you greet her, she pretends she hasn’t heard you. She never picks up Mikey’s poop.
It started raining about half an hour after I arrived and we all moved under shelters. The people on the far side of the park moved with their dogs into the area where we were huddled. The rain didn’t last long and we returned to our benches and the dogs went about their business. Suddenly, several of us saw Cody chasing Mikey and saw Dot whip out her insect repellent and spray it into Cody’s eyes.
It’s the kind of abuse that riles people, that riled me, that prompted Karin to shoot to her feet. “That does it,” Karin snapped. “She did this once the other day and I didn’t confront her yesterday, but now I’ve had it.” She headed for Dot, with the Doberman’s human and I hurrying along to support her.
Dot was already on her cell, talking to 911, rambling on about how a woman half her age (Karin’s 54, which would put Dot at 108 – slight exaggeration) and twice her size was in her face, harassing her. Karin and I and the Doberman human exploded with laughter. Dot rambled on like this for several minutes and then hurried over to her clutch of buddies for “protection.”
Someone washed out Cody’ eyes while this was going on, we stuck around longer than usual so Karin would have witnesses, and the police eventually arrived – two undercover drug cops. Dot hurried out to greet them, to get in her side of the story. The rest of us waited in our area. These two young, tough-looking guys finally made their way to us.
Shift change. That’s why we had armed undercover drug boys instead of, well, dog park boys. They basically said that Dot has some screws loose, they told her to forget the bug spray, and that if it happened again, Karin could call Animal Care and Control and file a complaint. “But the real problem,” says one cop,” is that this dog park is nicer than most kid day care centers. If the cops get too many complaints, the city may just decide to close the park.”
The synchro here is that I’m writing about shape shifters – humans who have been turned into dog/wolf shifters. In this particular story, the species is violent. What I discovered, though, is that the dog part of this equation is willing to live and let live. It’s the humans who go for the jugular.
I may have to alter the particulars of my plot line.
(Picasso seems to fit this post!)
Years ago, an editor remarked that the opening and closing paragraphs of a book told him everything he needed to know about the content between those two points. So here are those two points in a book I’m currently reading – while trying to wrestle it back from Rob, who keeps taking it into his office to read:
The opening: “I was researching my book Fingerprints of the Gods in the early 1990s when I first became aware of the so-called Mayan prophecy that the world will come to an end on December 21, 2012. It’s since become obvious – thanks goodness- that there is more than one way to read the “prophecy.”
The closing: “By moving through the self-hatred and fear to reach that hard-earned place of acceptance and forgiveness – of both self and others – we heal the world:
“I love you. I am sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.”
That ending sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It’s a prayer that Masaru Emoto used during the Gulf oil crisis. We used it in a post on that crisis. Its genesis may be Hawaiian, but when you Google those words, so many links come up that it’s difficult to determine exactly where it originated. Regardless, it’s a powerful mantra and sums up what David Wilcock puts forward in his book, The Source Field Investigations: the Hidden Science and Lost Civilizations behind the 2012 Prophecies.
I didn’t buy this book based on the opening and closing paragraphs. I bought it after reading the title – and the table of contents. It’s one of those books that either speaks to you – or doesn’t. It’s likely that if you’re interested in the nature of consciousness and what reality actually is, then you’re familiar with a lot of the material in this book. But Wilcock brings such a positive and ultimately uplifting spin to the material that every paragraph becomes an adventure, every story leaves you rather breathless about the interconnected of life. All life. Here’s one story:
In 1966, a man named Cleve Backster experienced a “paradigm shift” in his own awareness about the nature of consciousness. At this point, he had been studying the nature of consciousness for 18 years, through research on hypnosis and polygraphs. His secretary had bought a rubber plant and a dracena cane plant that were in the lab where he was working on the night of February 2, 1966. After working through the night, Brackster decided to connect the new dracaena plant to the polygraph to see what happened.
“Much to his surprise, the plant did not have a smooth, flat pattern of electrical activity – it was surprisingly jagged and alive, changing moment to moment.” After a minute or so, the plant’s electrical activity on a graph resembled that of a person who was starting to tell a lie. He tried various types of threats toward the plant, just as he might do when confronting a human subject. Typically, such a confrontation with a human might be, “Did you fire that shot that killed John Doe?” With a plant, it amounted to dipping the leaf in hot coffee, tapping a leaf with his pen. No reaction.,Then he had a thought: “As the ultimate plant threat, I would get a match and burn the plant’s electroded leaf.”
And what occurred shocked him. “The very moment the imagery of burning that leaf entered my mind, the polygraph recording pen moved rapidly to the top of the chart! No words were spoken, no touch the plant, no light of matches, just my clear intention to burn the leaf. The plant recording showed dramatic excitation.”
In other words, the plant panicked, based on nothing more than an image in Brackster’s mind. Backster was so deeply affected by this that he never again conducted any experiment that involved burning or threatening plants.
Wilcock then goes on to describe an experiment he conducted in 2006, during the filming of a documentary in which he hoped to dramatize this event. What’s intriguing about his experiment is that nothing happened until everyone stopped acting. “The plant knew it wasn’t in any real danger – so as a result, its graph stayed nice and smooth. I knew I had to do something- and fast. The next time we did the scene, I sent the plant the blackest, darkest thoughts I could possibly conjure up…I absolutely hated that plant. I wanted to tear it to pieces.” In other words, he backed this image with powerful emotion.
And right then, the polygraph needle went berserk. “I saved the shoot and proved, for myself, that the Backster effect really works.” He then apologized to the plant and sent it “genuine feelings of love.”
This story struck me to the core. It resonates with much of what I have read over the years on consciousness. We can visualize and affirm until our collective faces turn blue. But apparently nothing in our lives will change unless we can back what we want with emotion. It seems that emotion is not only a barometer of where we are in our lives, but that it can alter everything, instantly. Think back on your own life. I’m sure you can remember an instance where your emotions were so strong, so all encompassing, that something in your life shifted in a big way.
I remember turning to the index and looking for an entry on synchronicity. Nope. But he mentions a couple of books with synchronicity in the title. Yet, some of the stories describe synchronicity perfectly. You’ll recognize them.
The last chapter is on disclosure and here’s an excerpt of the opening paragraph: “I do believe a formal, open disclosure of the ET/UFO phenomenon is an essential aspect of our movement into a Golden Age….No discussion of the Source Field is complete without an examination of UFOs and their influence on technology, ancient peoples, and the 2012 prophecies.”
With that, I picked up the book and walked to the register and plunked down my thirty bucks, minus the discount. I have not regretted it. Neither will you.
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Megan, on the Hopi reservation
Twenty-two years ago today, you came into the world weighing 6.6 pounds. I had been in labor for about 30 hours and was so exhausted that when the doctor placed you on top of me, I said, “What’s that?”
Your dad laughed and proudly announced, “That’s Megan!”
I remember glancing at the clock on the wall in front of me, to make sure I had an accurate time of birth – you know, for your natal chart. Then the nurses handed you to me, a little thing all bundled up, with a soft pink cap over your head. Your eyes opened and they were the clearest, most perfect blue I had ever seen. They seemed somehow ancient, those eyes, even then, minutes after you have drawn your first breath. Your eyes are still like that and if the eyes are the windows to the soul, then your soul is as lovely and wise as the young woman you are today.
It’s odd, the memories that stick with you over the years. I remember that at seven months, you murmured your first word: kitty. Your second word was Dada– which your dad had been repeating several times an hour since you were born. Impatient even then, you tried to walk before you crawled. Since we lived in a house that was just one story, we bought you one of those walkers. From the moment we put you in it, you were a speedster, zipping around the house, laughing with glee. It strengthened your legs to the point where you were walking around nine or ten months.
We went overboard, no doubt, on the number of puzzles and books of labyrinths we bought you; we’d read that those increased a toddler’s intelligence. Everything you experienced, from books to stuffed animals to walks and that Barney cartoon show you loved, invariably brought out that same beautiful laugh, that same undiluted joy, that is your essence still. Even when doing this, now:
When we started traveling with you, you were utterly fearless in your explorations. In the Southwest, you bopped around the Hopi reservation like an old pro. When we visited Chichen itza, the Mayan ruins in Mexico, you raced up the tallest pyramid – which had no external railings – not just once, but twice. There, you and stood at the very edge and peered out, hands on your hips, some ancient high priestess gazing out over her land, her home. In this picture, your back is to that land, and the expression on your face is, Yeah, so what’s the big deal, parents? I’m sitting at the very edge of this pyramid, no need to freak out, I’m fine.
In the Dominican Republic, Aruba, Margarita, Costa Rica, Ecuador, I always had the sense that you were tying up loose ends from past lives. But none of these journeys explained a dream I’d had when I was pregnant with you.
I was about four months into what turned out to be an easy pregnancy and asked specifically for a dream that would explain the past life we had shared with you that was connected to this life. I dreamed I was inside a large, empty warehouse, and went into labor. I delivered you myself and picked you up and your eyes opened and you said, “Iceland.”
For years, that puzzled me. Then, when you were in college, you became friends with a young woman who was a medium. So at the end of your sophomore year, we all went to visit her and she did a kind of family reading. When she was very deep in trance, I told her about the Iceland dream and said I didn’t understand it and did she have any insights? For moments, her eyes moved rapidly back and forth beneath her lids, as if she was looking for the information. Then she said that “Iceland” referred to a northern European country two or three hundred years ago. Rob and I were siblings, our parents had died, and Megan was an aunt who took us in. You “had a lot of mouths to feed” and did the best you could, often at great sacrifice to yourself. “It was a bleak life where hunger was always present.”
As she spoke, everything she said resonated intuitively. It explained a lot of stuff, but primarily three things come to mind: that life is why the three of us now live in a warm climate, why I hate the sight of a nearly empty fridge, and why you’re an only child. We MacGregors may be a small clan, but we’re there for each other in the best and worst of times.
So happy 22nd, Megger. May the next phase of your journey be as joyful and adventurous!
The passing of Budd Hopkins on Aug. 21 was ignored by the mass media. Most commentators probably wouldn’t recognize the name. Yet, Budd Hopkins was a pioneer, who boldly ventured into the strange borderland realm of alien abductions. An artist by profession, Budd took an interest in people who witnessed UFOs and subsequently found they had somehow moved ahead in time, often by a couple of hours.
His first book, Missing Time, explored those missing hours through hypnotic regression, which revealed alien abduction experiences. We read that book when it first came out and were reminded of the earlier abduction experience of Betty and Barney Hill. But Hopkins revealed that such abductions were now widespread, yet virtually unknown to the world.
In early 1986, OMNI Magazine assigned us to cover a UFO convention in South Florida, where we met Budd and accompanied him on an abductee investigation. (We’ve previously written in detail about that experience .)
We remember Hopkins commenting that he had recently met with a famous novelist, who was abductee. He wouldn’t tell us the writer’s name, but it wasn’t long before we found out it was Whitley Strieber. At the time, Strieber was best known for his novels, including The Hunger, The Wolfen, and Warday.
It would be Strieber who became the face of the alien abduction scenario – for better or worse – when he wrote Communion, and Hopkins became a secondary figure in the eyes of the mass media.
Meanwhile, Budd continued his work with abductees and went on to write Intruders, Witnessed, and other books. He also pursued his career as an artist, and became a nationally known abstract expressionist painter with works in the collections of the Guggenheim, Whitney, and Metropolitan Museums, as well as Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts and New York’s Museum of Modern Art.
I remember asking Budd if he thought his work in the UFO field was affecting his art. He answered simply: “I hope not.” He also maintained that he was not an abductee himself, but when pressed by Trish he conceded that he had a scar on the back on his left calf and didn’t know how it had gotten there. He looked uncomfortable and didn’t want to say any more about it.
Budd’s last book, published in 2009, was a memoir that brought it all together. It’s called: BUDD HOPKINS: Art, Life, and UFOs. We wish Budd well on his new adventure in the afterlife. And we hope he has found the answers to his many questions.
A couple of days ago we pointed out the global synchronicity related to the earthquake that cracked the Washington Monument and toppled an angel from atop the National Cathedral.
In the aftermath of the quake, Hurricane Irene followed a path that swiped the capital. So there were two natural disasters in one week. Both events were disruptive, but fortunately neither caused loss of life in D.C. or major damage. Flooding from Irene postponed the dedication of the Martin Luther King Memorial that had been planned Sunday, Aug. 28.
It was forty years ago Sunday that King gave his famed ‘I Have a Dream’ speech on the Mall in the capital. That was fitting and intentional -so not a synchronicity.
The global synchro here involves action taken by the state of Arizona on Friday, Aug. 26 to file suit in federal court to overturn parts of the 1965 Civil Right Act. In other words, while the nation prepared to honor King, who fought to remove barriers keeping blacks and other minorities from voting, Arizona decided to tinker with those rules. Keep in mind that at one time there was a poll tax in the South, which had been instigated to keep poor blacks from voting.
Responding to the law suit, Attorney General Eric Holder said: “The Voting Rights Act plays a vital role in our society by ensuring that every American has the right to vote and to have that vote counted. The provisions challenged in this case, including the pre-clearance requirement, were reauthorized by Congress in 2006 with overwhelming and bipartisan support.”
The timing of the law suit, coming just two days before the dedication of the King Memorial, could be synchronicity. But it’s probably not. The action by Arizona was probably planned to coincide with the dedication. A sorry statement about politics in Arizona and across this country, which is as divided politically now as it was prior to the Civil War.
So the global synchro blew in with Irene. The flooding in Washington caused the postponement of the dedication, which is reflective of where things stand in U.S. politics. In fact, efforts are widespread to undercut or ‘postpone’ voting rights for the poor and minorities. This is being done through changed in rules about what identification is required to vote and when and where you can register to vote. There are also efforts underway to draw new lines for voting districts which would make some districts more white and affluent and favor Republicans in congressional races.
Of course, it’s a backlash, all happening in the aftermath of the election of the first black president. It’s also savvy politics. Republicans, who traditionally fail to get more than a small percentage of votes from blacks and other minorities, know the population trend is moving away from their base. Unless these actions are taken to deter minorities from voting, the Republican Party will become a minor party. In a way, that would be justice served. White Republicans, in particular, would find out what it’s like to be a minority.
Of course, they could avoid the problem another way. They could change their politics. After all, Lincoln was a Republican.
On Tuesday, August 23, a 5.8 earthquake occurred in Mineral, Virginia, at a depth of 3.7 miles, and was felt from Atlanta to Canada. On August 27-28, Hurricane Irene put nine states under emergency status, resulted in the evacuation of more than a million people, and as of this writing, at 12:28 AM on August 28, has left several million people on the northeast coast without power. That number is sure to rise.
There seem to be a lot of firsts with Irene. The lower part of Manhattan – now referred to as Zone A – was evacuated for the first time in the city’s history. The Manhattan Transportation Authority – MTA – has been shut down for the first time in the city’s history. That means bridges, tunnels, subways, trains, are all shut down.
In Philadelphia, the Schuykill River is rising to levels not seen in 140 years – since 1869. The governor of Pennsylvania declared a state of emergency for the first time since 1986 and says this could be the worst storm to hit the Philly area in 50 years. The Philly area got 13 inches of rain in the month of August, so the ground is already saturated and the rain that accompanies Irene means flooding is a given.
Irene, however, is not Katrina, the category 4-5 hurricane that devastated New Orleans in 2005. But it’s a huge, sloppy monster the size of Europe, and has affected all of the eastern seaboard except for the states of Florida, Georgia, and South Carolina. In a sense, it’s the storm equivalent of the quake on August 23 – impacting a vast area. The hurricane, like that quake, isn’t impressive on the intensity scale – but it IS impressive in terms of the number of people who are affected.
This storm also addresses the question of global warming, as discussed in this excellent New York Times piece.
In my particular belief system, weather is a product of collective consciousness. The fact that in 2011 we have had such severe natural disasters worldwide suggests that we, as a worldwide community of individuals, may be at a crossroads. It may be that the planet – Gaia – can no longer sustain the damage humanity has perpetrated through war, greed, and the destruction of the environment.
This crossroad seems to be reflected in just about every facet of our lives – from the polarization in politics, to the rebellions in the Mideast, to the economic policies that have resulted in such dire circumstances for at least two thirds of the world who live in abject poverty. Naomi Klein’s The Shock Doctrine spells it out in terms even non-economists can grasp.
So what synchronistic messages can we decipher from these events?
Everything is local. What affects you, affects me. The world is now so interconnected that the Butterfly Affect seems to be our MO as a species.
We, as a collective of humanity, are a powerful force – if we unite for the changes we want. Sometimes, the only way we can do this is to experience a weather phenomena or other natural disaster that is usually associated with some other part of the country – the quake, Hurricane Irene.
Rob and I were watching some of the coverage of Irene this evening and he remarked how weird it was to be watching the coverage of this hurricane while our skies were clear, the temp hot, the winds at a balmy five miles an hour. But that’s precisely the point. The Northeast is now experiencing what Floridians face every year between June 1 and November 30.
At the dog park this evening, Karin remarked that her sister had called a NYC friend, an attorney, to check on her in terms of the hurricane. “You know you’re going to lose power during this hurricane, right?” she asked
“That’s fine. I’ll order Chinese.”
Really? Chinese in the middle of a hurricane when the power has gone out?
Even though Florida isn’t earthquake prone, we may one day experience what California does during an earthquake. Or they may be hit by a hurricane. Malibu’s fire storms of several summers ago could hit you in Kansas, you in Texas, you in Belgium or Somalia or Turkey. Who knows? We do not exist in perfect isolation. Whether we like it or not, we’re the inhabitants of Indra’s Net: what affects one, affects all. It always come back to that. Your community, your kids, your family, your ex, your blogger friends, your immediate and your larger family.
When you bleed, so do I.
Just ask the planetary empaths. They know.
We think their ability may be the evolving talent of a species perched at this crossroads.
On August 23, when we first saw the news about a 5.8 quake in Mineral, Virginia that was felt from Atlanta to Canada, we figured there had to be some synchros involved. Sure enough, the damage in Washington, D.C. was revealing.
The Washington monument, built to commemorate President George Washington, was completed in 1884, and according to Wikipedia, is the world’s tallest stone structure and tallest obelisk. Its height is a shade over 555 feet- 169.294 meters – and the monument is made of marble, granite, and bluestone gneis. During the quake, it sustained a four foot crack on the West side near the pyramid top of the monument, which has since been closed to the public until repairs can be made.
Since the monument was built to commemorate George Washington, the first president of what was then, in 1789 – and is now – a fragile democracy, this damage may reflect the fractured congress that can’t seem to get anything accomplished and which nearly brought the country to its knees during the crisis about raising the debt ceiling.
The other significant damage was to the National Cathedral in Washington. This Episcopal church considers itself to be the “spiritual home of the nation.” Not only were three of its four spires damaged, but the head of an angel fell off. There were other monuments and buildings in D.C. that were damaged, but these two seem to be addressing democracy and spirituality.
On the democracy front, the damage to the Washington Monument may be a warning about what’s going to be happening – or not happening – when Congress returns from their long vacation. Cracks, fractures, closed door negotiations ( monument closed to the public.) Could this be a possible reference to the so-called Super Committee of 12 – 6 Dems, 6 Repubs – who will decide (or not) how the debt issue will be handled?
With the National Cathedral, the possible message becomes even more intriguing. Since the cathedral considers itself the spiritual home of the country, the fallen head of the angel is sort of alarming. Is the U.S. becoming a fallen angel?
The division between church and states has blurred so much that candidates like Texas governor Rick Perry can hold a prayer vigil where most of the seats in the stadium are vacant, and yet he rises by double digits in the polls. Michelle Bachman, a Tea Party favorite, peppers all her speeches with references to God – God told her to run, God told her this, that, and is whispering in her ear 24/7. The fallen angel may be synchronistically symbolic of where religious divisions and schisms here in the U.S. and worldwide, will take us.
The world in which we’re now living seems to be riddled with clues about where we’re headed – and why. Our interpretations may be wrong. But the beauty of global synchros – of all synchronicities – is that we each have our own interpretations, our own takes on what they mean, and can plan our lives and act accordingly.
Animals at the National Zoo in D.C. apparently knew what was coming. And so did some of the planetary empaths.
