© 2011 by TwoHawk Speaking for White Eagle

Already a pool had formed in his mind.

“I do not understand this,” I said to My Friend

“Is this your alms, your hopes, your sadness, or your joy?”

“It is all of the above.  It is my love for you.

“I want to walk with you again, hand in hand,” said The Oldman.

“Everyone has some kind of a vision about a utopian world.  We often think of a new day as being unique, beyond the now, something yet to be.  What if there really is nothing new under the sun?  Every vision, regardless how futuristic and unfamiliar it may seem, is always conditioned by someone’s version from their past.  This whole process is really more about rebuilding from the past, or re-creating rather than creating by itself.  So here in my “vision”  about Utopia, I will begin in part one an overview.  In part two, I will focus on how to use the current conditions, and the teachings or lessons from the past in suggesting how to re-build what it is I truly envision…..what is a real, rather than a mere imagination of utopian possibilities.”

“I am an Oldman but I still have visions.  No Polyannas, no devisive derision shall retain the on-going chorus of change built into my refrain. I see trees of green, red roses, too, children laughing,  so glorious and wise, all those things without the bang, bang.  In my song, all desert lands flower, all rivers run free.  All swamps remain unaltered, unrestrained, no one dumping into or on them.  No one trying to drain them away, either. You see, in My Utopia only people of good intention shall live.  No greed or grabbing  of someone else’s piece of pie will be allowed. No one will want to because each shall have their need fulfilled.  There is a price attached to all this but there is no bill, deceit, or any receipts thereof included in these transactions on the condition you simply love the one who gave you the goods in the first place, including your enemies.  There’s nothing wrong with my swamp. One shall not stomp on My Ground either, for in My Gardens, My Mountains and My Valleys only soft moist loam will cover the land.  Only slow walking, slow dancing will make the grand entrance abound:  Wondrous sacred space, keeping pace with melodious sounds.You see, in My Utopia everyone will want to give to each other of themselves, not their useless remains. Seeds of newness will be built into my remains.  They’ll recycle themselves!”

PART TWO:  How to Rebuild From The Now.

“Now The Now has several components: the current, the undercurrent and the surface,The Now, The Past and The Future. None of them last very long, but each must be understood while they’re here. Now who would you think they are?  Hah!  I caught you!  Notice I said Who Instead of What.  The What is the  part we must let go of.  Dealing with The Who is essential if we are going to rebuild anything long-lasting. And just who are these components we call current, undercurrent and surface, who are their counterparts?  Well, there’s Buddha and Jesus, Isis and Orpheus, Abraham and Moses.  There’s Ceridwen and Nora, Brigid and Bel.  There’s Venus and Euridice, Aristotle and Plato, There’s even all those Satans and Lucifers, The Bushes and Carlyle’s, the Harriman’s and the Brown’s.  By their momentous grand erroneous madness we can find some useful tools to back them up into a corner, round ‘em up, watch them wrestle with each other in their own circus ring, draw the drapes, close the door and throw away the key while The Utopian Rebuilding of The Real Kinder People’s World goes on.”

“Now, I hired the best architects among them all, those who submitted the best blueprints. I found that Jesus and Buddha’s blueprints had made the most sacred, the easiest and the most effective method of construction come to light with ease.  (Neither of them, by the way, charged me a single penny, though the rest charge you way too much!)”

“Jesus reveled his secrets to The Woman of Samaria, didn’t he?   She was a whore, too. All the madams and pimps from the village, their clients and other wimps, though they say they had all the answers, they didn’t.  They weren’t the ones whom he spoke to, the ones who said they’d keep the shores intact did not have the answers I was looking for.  (Neither did the agents and the agencies that make the rules and forms dealing with the chorus of love they claim they have the right to maintain moral authority over as well.) Their brains contain little  evidence or substance remaining that allows for the reconstruction sustenance and materials still needing to begathered in order to be part of the refrain. They only sing the choruses full of noise no one wants to hear anymore. All their ideas enacted have fallen apart. It ‘twas in the hidden part of a prostitute’s  heart the meanings of love remained. The Master Oldman also revealed himself to fishermen and carpenters, the low-brow types. Not that the wealthy don’t have any answers, they do!  Lots of them, but their blueprints contain so much poo-poo and dodo, I had no use for them.”

“I also hired Gautama Buddha, Hoti and Krishna because their main affirmation, “Be careful what you ask for, ‘cause you’re gonna get it whether you like it or not”, sold me on the idea that made the most common sence of all. Now that I had the right blueprints in line, I went to work.  I discovered that to refurbish the desert of the empty, dried out flower pots, it was love and compassion that brought on the rain for the flowers and grasses in the desert to sprout. It was dedication and that “whistle while you work” kind of energy that allowed the good guys to dismantle the damn dams and let the rivers run free. It was replacing the asphalt and concrete with dust from the memory of the good life that smoothed out the paths to the mounains  and valleys of pride lined with natural rails and fences of humility others called failure that neutralised the chem trails of indifference and greed.”

“My utopian theology says take the nukes, the bombs, and the land mines, remove the pins and the signaling carefully, melt them down. Build monuments of remembering them as fragments of the past, The Now doesn’t need any longer. Leave them on an island one goes to visit now and then as works of useless art, no further living instructions about using them ever to be found.

The Desert’s in bloom,

The Rivers are running free,

Fluffy Clouds proudly circling The Mountains

The Valleys singing loud and clear

The Swamps and the Oceans proud to provide.

Fishermen with fishes, oceans wide

Prostitutes, lovers,whores, wives,

Misters and mistresses none to derride

Cats and Dogs without scratchy needling whiskers

Dishes and doors

To use, pass by or through as they do choose

Fullfilling Creator’s wishes wherewithal.

Condoms of love, no need to wear gloves

All staying in survival mode,

Allowing love to flourish across the land.

In rooms, on walls, ceilings and floors

In whatever form they take, sit or stand.

Pictures inacted like sculptures

Artists have always longed for to wake us up

To an Oldman’s Utropical candor and horn:

As The Old Sea Captain sits on his rocker watching ships enter his harbor, bringing goods so desparately needed for his Utopia to release The Cornicopia of Love spilling out into the cleansing oceanic depths of  new found feelings of renewal and resolve. So there!”

(That’s how Oldman rebuilt his hovel and made his planet The Home Where Real Love and Brotherhood was reborn.)  Aho!

In the late sixties during the hippie revolution hope was everywhere.  Though the generation was shown to be obsessed with individual freedom, the part that excited me was the idea of community (communes and such) was something society in general was about to embrace.  Yes, we now have natural food stores everywhere, natural clothing, natural this and that.  Even these things were taken as ways to subdue, confuse and numb the masses into even further dependence on corporate interests pretending to be “for the people”.

What happened to the cultural revolution?  What happened to the new “Aquarian age?  Yes according to astrology, capitalism, capital structure (Capricorn) would be replaced by creativity, the arts, the natural world of spirit and innovation (Aquarian).  But it hasn’t happened yet.  My “hope chest” was  diminishing, its contents slowly being removed by others instead of being replenished by me, the owner.

This year in my yearly meditation with the IChing oracle I received the sign “The Roof is about to collapse.  Yet the change in the lines was that “soon, rising out of the rubble, couragous noble warriors and/or people of good intentions will begin repairing the damage done.  In meditating, I almost lost my faith entirely, me being an artist/musician who has spent a lifetime (since the late suxties) devoted to persuing the “Path of Beauty”, hoping my work (and other’s art) would bring us into this new age of community spirit, respecting, honoring and promoting True Brotherhood with Mother Earth, Father Sky and the Universal State of Grace and Unconditional Love for all of Creation.  Other star systems/beings seem to have already figured out this is necessary for survival.

I looked back on my 65 years existence in this lifetime and saw that after reaching its height, the spirit of community was being swept under the rug by commercial (capitalist idealogy) interests and “we were literally stomped on and had to slide back into the system just to survive”.  I was in my late teens, early twenties then and I saw everyone from the Kennedys, Gandhi (and his daughter), Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, John Lennon, just about everyone I had my hope in had been assassinated.  Even Uncle Ike (former President Eisenhower) was booed off the stage when he warned us about the Military-Industrial Complex (MIC) during the Nixon campaign.  By the early seventies the senior Bush/Reagan et all  administrations (made up of the MIC, the new “World Order”—some call The New World Odor) had found their niche and one by one took over.  Now in the year 2010 its clear what has happened:.  As in the IChing oracle about the roof ready to collapse (on world order) it goes on to say the pillars have already crumbled and there is nothing left to hold the roof up.  Collapse is imminent.  Science has also warned us about the actual physical parts of major continental plates/subduction zones on both coasts of the North American continent as well as the central Super-mega found underneath the mantle beneath the Missoula Lake/Yellowstone Geyser area of this country could explode at anytime.  (‘course the mega powers in charge (most of them) right now ignore this  completely, thinking the rich and the powerful won’t be affected.  Yeah right!  (if they are hiding out somewhere on some secret underground safety zone).  Well, there isn’t ANY safety zone  for anyone.  When The River floods (big time) both the mansion on the hill and those who live under the bridge can drown—mother river’s daughter doesn’t make distinctions….)   Plus, if the Pacific or the Atlantic subduction zone areas  of the planets major continental plates begin to slip under each other or jolt each other in a single shift happens….(due to what?  One more digging into the mantle?)  where is my hope?  According to the oracle message, however, there’s still hope.

I then did some more thinking.  The despair/fear of now took 40 years to replace the hope of the late sixties.  Those human forces/corporate dynasties (which many call evil) as powerful as they are today took them a whole generation and part of the next generation (38 years-1968-2010) to accomplish their goal. That “rising out of the rubble scenario” of the Oracle then might mean 2010-2011 is the beginning of the new world. ie, the Aquarian Age of Spirit, Community and Innovation and in about 38 more you might see the NEW WORLD OF WORLD-WIDE COMMUNITY SPIRIT be in full swing just the way people like myself have been working on promoting the last 38 years…IN OTHER WORDS, THE HOPE LIES IN THE HUMAN SPIRIT.  WHEN IT SEES ITS DISASTROUS COURSE ABOUT TO CAUSE COLLAPSE, IT PICKS ITSELF UP AND IN ABOUT 30 TO 40 YEARS IT RESETS ITSELF.  THERE IS WHERE THE HOPE IS!!!!

MY CONCLUSION?  MY HOPE?  KEEP THE FAITH.  KEEP WORKING TOWARDS….KEEP THE PROMOTION OF COMMUNITY SPIRIT ALIVE.  IN THE NEXT GENERATION YOU’LL PROBABLY SEE THE RESULTS.  (‘Course by then I’ll be 103….My mom is 97 and still a walkin.  Maybe I will too, the way we seem to technically be able to live that long…..)

There I lay on my bed, Peace had overcome me

I shall sleep, I said,  The Night is long,

The Air is calm.  I was wrong.

Sleep never came.

I saw you standing there naked in the rain.  I wanted to cover you

Thinking you were cold.

But a mist floating in the air came from another sky

Liquid sunshine came from your eye.

Warm and soft, it dripped onto my forehead

And crossed my brow down the creases of unreason

A Bridge of Treason

Then it dripped into my eye,

Soothing the burning, the yearning

I had for you.

Your warm tears kept coming filling my mind with ease

Then I too shed a tear with you.

I mingled mine with yours

And out from the corner of my eye they did fall

Down my cheek and into the corner of my mouth.

I received them with open lips as though

The Drought in my life had turned to Renewing Flood.

Yet they were not salty with sorrow or remorse

They were sweet and soft made of honey and gold.

Morsels of Joy caught momentarily

Quenching my thirst of Olde.

Then I heard a flute say to me,

“All Hell has passed away, Orpheus.

I, your Eurydice

Am here beside you forever now.”

Then I heard a harp sing and Epona flew by.

Perfume filled the air

The smell of Daphne, Vanilla and Carnation was everywhere.

In her mane were garlands of Gardenia and Daffodil

Butterflies dancing through every strand of her hair and strain.

“Come fly with me, dear Arthur,

Climb upon my back.  To The Meadow we shall go.”

“Your Gueniviere is waiting for you in another sky.

Don’t ask me why.  The horses have left The Stable, The Carousel Round.

The children have gone with them, too,

Leaving their nannies dumbfounded, trying to

Hang on to The Brass Ring they could not reach.”

“Where did they all go?” they cried.

“To The Meadow of Lovliness, of Calm and Delightful Peace,” She replied,

As Her steed continued pawing her feet on The Ground waiting impatiently

For me to take that ride with Her.

So I did what was asked of me.

Off we went from meadow to meadow, from sky to sky.

Plunging our way down to the ground,

Spiraling our way back into yet another sky.

Soon we came to you again.

This time the softness in your eyes, the silky skin,

The tender hands caressing my face

Unguent sweet dripping from your breast like

Masseuse Blessed, a Warrior’s sweet rest.

“I knew you’d come back, Arthur  I knew that you would re-awaken.

You weren’t really sleeping, were you?

I have waited so long.  Glastonbury remains strong

Tor is still standing

Glistening while The Morighan weaves your gown

Burial clothes, bloodied linens,

Now they have been woven into silken finery only she can sew.

Its magic!  She can do that.

Your men are here, too.  Many of their wounds have healed.

Here they stand with their brides by their side.

The table is reset, The Grail is here to receive you all.

Drink ye of it, soft amber wine of roses

Silver-tongued, elixer and brew.

The Land is now at peace with itself, and so are we

Because you have returned to me.

It is so!”

“Am I not dreaming?  Is it true?

I lay myself down but for a nap.  It was night then

Many a day has passed since, noon has come and gone many times over,

Yet The Moon is still dancing on The Horizon

Though The Sun has risen from her bed and shone above the clouds.”

“She will follow her lover forever, dear Brother,

Though he has flown away to reign through future days forever

They never leave each other’s side.  The Sun takes his bride wherever he goes.  Didn’t you know that?

Just like you and I,” She replied.

“But you are thousands of miles away,”  I cried.

I am lying here in this bed alone

This apartment so dingy, so small and forlorn.

How is this so?”

But there was no answer.

Then The Flute reminded me of recent melody

That mortal life is but a chorus, a house, an apartment, a hut

A place to hang your hat.

None of them are a home if you don’t see them as such.

Nary a speck of distance lies between The Chorus and The Refrain.”

“Besides you are the author, the musician and singer of both.

We are The Hidden Choir,” sang The Reeds

As they joined in with The Flute.

“When you pass The Threshold of Need and Desire

Accept the road and The Journey before you,

You become immortal

YOU become The Song!”

“When you pass The Threshold of Need and Desire and become immortal,

We all become The Song….

We all become The Song….

We all become The Song!”

“Oh, Thank you, thank you all,

Dear Orpheus, Eurydice, Arthur, Gueniviere and The Morighan

Thank you Epona for taking me with you to The Summerlands”

“You’re welcome, Arthur.  Just remember

That Song, the one we created together is emblazoned on your chest.

Dreamtime is never far away.

After all, you and I passed through a million bars of The Song

While you thought you were taking but a nap!

Wake fully, dear Brother.  Keep singing that song!

Forget the map.  You found your homeland all by yourself.”

And with a twinkle in her eye, she lifted her golden mane

And tore through The Skies again

In search of yet another Warrior.

Standing naked in The Rain

Ready to be held in the arms of his Beloved

Lying in yet another

Meadow of  Love for One Another

In The Cloudless Sky on The Other Side, in The Cloudless Sky…

When She comes for you again, do not swerve for a single instant

Just to avoid her beauty brother.

Stay on course.  Don’t spiral towards her.  Run straight into Her arms!

The path isn’t that wide, you know…..what’s stopping you?

Aho!

by Wildove

Erase those unspoken words

Remove the pages of those unopened books

Stop looking at things you cannot see

Do just the reverse

Sing the chorus first

Adding yet another verse to

The Refrain

The Universe made for us to sing

Makes for a pretty long song

When every life on earth Is a different verse

But we’re not expected to sing all the other verses

Just the one we created ourselves

Terse with gusto perhaps

But not with bitterness and hate

Sweet but not sappy

Soft allegro in parts

Loud and rambunctious in others

Just singing it from hearts in unison

Keeps the crowds happy

That’s Art!

What about all these complex harmonies

We’re supposed to master

These strains on the corded instruments

Accompanying all The Master Musicians and Singers

Faster and faster

More than the Stage can uphold

The Orchestration in need of adjustments

When singers who’re still stuck on sentences

With the words still clinging to the page

Are willing to stand-up

And sing their hearts out anyway

Regardless if they can’t remember

Where they should start and end

Who said we’re

Supposed to finish pause or stop?

Or whether our small little part fits in harmoniously or not?

Who said we have to memorize even one single bit of The Song?

Who said we have to wait until our part comes along?

Just keep on Singing The Song Sacred Living creates

The Angels told me to say to you The Chorus is still in the background

Always singing with the same words

Always the same chords

Never running behind never late

The Master Choreographer of Fate tells me

The Chorus gets repeated for us every time

By The Angels in The Morning Light

Throughout the whole day and night long

The True Chorus Line-up implores

The Meaning of Life-words

Whether they rhyme or not You see

The Harmonies of The Dance we call Life are already in place

They’re built into every Race

Sung on every rung

Of every Ladder in

Every Space Climbing up to

Every Heaven

The Choreographer, The Librettist, The Dancer, All the members of The Orchestra

Simply have to put down the librettas and compositions written on

Trails of a dedicated life instead of on paper

If we want to get to the place where we can

Erase our addiction to the memorization process of doctrine and verse

Of The Heavenly Song of Our Own Creation-ness

Stepping up to The Divine Plate

Stepping up to The Microphone

And start singing!

Get back on stage and start dancing!

Sharing The Rulership of Earth together

In a kingdom where there’s no sibling rivalry among its children

Where no one sits alone! Guess what?

WE are their children

Why don’t we stop squabbling and just start singing the same song

Sitting tight in the same room the angels of the sky do.

Its called The Changing Room. (Some call it home; Our Dear Mother Earth)

Help is embedded in The Dancer, and all the people behind the scenes.

Its not his or her costume, the scene changes, the Stand-ins needed at times.

Even the props must change. It’s always The Master Choreographer who keeps the words, the song and the dancers in line….

Aho!

by Me

One day I said to The Future, “How are you doing today?”

She replied,  “Better than yesterday!”

Aho!

“Although we have said this before, we remind you that all the seeds for today’s events to come, are found inside this Gift, and if you open it up upon waking and plant them before you do anything else: In any shape or form these daily events occur, they will then unravel before you in the very sublime, ordered, peaceful and harmonious fashion they were intended to, simply because you opened up your heart and mind and were willing to plant the seeds He gave you.”

-end of transmission-

White Eagle and The Sacred Brotherhood:

“It seems at times the things you cherish most are at the mercy of the things you cherish least. The conflict which arises must be linked together. The animal nature must live by the rules of the human nature. Can they both be one and the same? We believe so, in the regard of true love and companionship, the link between one’s pet and oneself is certainly an example of this. Those who claim to be concerned often use a lay-in-the-sun approach, it’ll all work itself out, for example. It won’t my friend. Do not let yourself be tempted with the excuse, ‘my little effort won’t work’, or, ‘this little opportunity isn’t “up to” great accomplishment’.

Every little act of devotion is part of the expansion of The Brotherhood of Man. Like a great cloak that warms you, the little threads weave their way in and out of your life, tightening the spaces that separate you from us. And the love-blanket you are making for yourselves will warm you even more. The long winter of humankind is soon approaching Spring. “

“So what, you say? How long do you think it will allow you those rules? Don’t you know that observance of them are made for all to observe relentlessly, unconditionally. If your rules don’t begin here they will destroy you later on, harsh at times, but like all good nurses and doctors, they will watch over you and see that the work you need to do will continue until your entire healing gets done. Be vigilent and seek out those spaces in the weave that need tightening.
Peace to you, my dear brother.”

-end of transmission-

Portland 9Moon9
“This is not That”

Grandmother Turtle has shown me that our home is where we’re at. Our “possessions” may be in several places, so how can we secure them? By carrying only that which we can carry. She then told me to go back to one of my files “Abraham” channeled to me about possessions. Here it is:

“Secure your belongings by enabling them to travel with you. Go to phase 46 of Dane Rudhyar’s book of transformations. Read it and come back to me. I’ll wait.”

( I did so. In phase 46 the key phrase is that one must repeat as often as it takes to say, not this, not that, until one reaches the void. I began to understand and said to abraham, OK, how do I simply carry only that which I need?)

He then responded:

“Now that you have organized your thoughts about your “belongings” listen to this: Possessions are not for children. Playthings are! You are a child. Play with your “things”. Do not think of any of them as possessions. They are toys. Play with them, one at a time. You can be the organized adult and arrange them for storage, but you are also a child. Let the adult in you take them out, just enough for you as a child to play with in your playground, your life situation, ie., the one you are in right now. It, too is just a sandbox in front of the great Spirit who is the true “adult” in these situations. The child, though rarely expressed, not only is enthusiastic when the toys are the ones he or she wants, but also is thankful to the one who provided the toys and the relationship that developes. So go ahead, have a wonderful relationship with yourself. Simply change the words, belongings, possessions, baggage, things, etc. to the word TOYS and above all, stop labeling your storage boxes Miscellaneous! None are miscellaneous in the world of Spirit. Aho!”
-end of transmission-

08/31/2002 Portland 7Saturne5

Legal paper work, government, agencies, welfare, in writing and on the phone. How may I perform well?
Thoth speaks:

“Alternatives are clear-cut: No turning back. Pierce the inevitable and you may win…..Perform well and you may gain immortality and become a possible source of inspiration yourself. Potency, is acheived when it is first ritualized and then applied, in turn ritualizing the relationships, (between) You and (your) God, you and your work (creative), you and society (with its own ethics). Which one (relationship) do you want to pursue first?
(My answer was Creator God’s plan and purpose regarding my work on this computer.) He then continued:
Turn away from your society’s ethics if it is in conflict with your god/ethics or resolve it by ending it honorably SO THAT you may truely ritualize your new relationship with God-Goddess by being the passive child and accepting the inner you as a stronghold, trusting him-her AND yourself from the feelings inside to the outside, not the other way around. From the inside, what do you really want to accomplish? Answer this honestly, right now.”

(I want success with my creative work, I want my work to reflect the conscious activities of Mother Nature and the harmonics that are so hidden from society’s idea of this relationship’s worthiness and the way it unfolds. I also want to help us all to know more about where it will lead us.)

“Continue, then, in doing what you are doing and stop thinking about what it will accomplish. The indestructable forces of divine nature preserve everyhing. Every accomplishment is on record. Its not your concern. Blessings to you, my brother. Aho!”
-end of transmission-
_________________
“We are All Giving Birth to Each Other” -Anais Nin
“Not all of us are eagles, yet we all are sky dancers” -Dancing Dog to Willy TwoHawk.
“At night there are millions of galaxies. During the day there is the beauty of friends dancing at their wedding to each other.” -Rumi