On the Wings of the Chariot of Time

February 1, 2022

There are so many things darting around in my mind, poking for my attention, it’s almost impossible to settle on just one.

Should I talk about the cold I’ve felt all the way to the bone this winter, but this morning it seems to have disappeared? Or the sense from yesterday of a sadness so massive it felt like it was crushing me? Or thinking: “Holy cow, I am an empath! The stuff I’m feeling surely isn’t all mine…oh yeah, I can pull my antennae in when it gets to be too much”?

The visual of a questing snail inevitably shows on my mental screen. Those damp, delicate, eyeless sensors that stretch inquisitively from the blind-looking otherworldly face of the gastropod. A gentle finger just brushing those antennae causes it to recoil into itself. If the touch persists, the snail completely encloses itself within its shell, withdrawing into its own protection.

No, I don’t think I’ll talk about any of that.

*****

There’s a jumpiness, a giddiness, to what I perceive of the energy of the world. O Canada! Your light is flaring bright. O Australia! O Brazil! O downtrodden countries of the world! Humanity, let us unite for freedom now, in love and solidarity. 

Flower Power has been rebranded as Truck Power, and why not? Both are essential to my happiness, at any rate. It seems that a fuse on a powder keg, not of destruction and despair but of joy and celebration, has been lit. And it’s not a very long fuse.

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I received an official email from the County of Santa Barbara yesterday, informing the citizenry that the local mask mandate, set to expire today, has been extended at least till March 1.

This was cause for open-mouthed bafflement. Did not these fine folks, this supposed governing body of the health of this county, get the memo from Canada?

Helloooooo! The mandates are disintegrating. Your little electronic blip saying otherwise does not negate the universal energy of what appears to be the entire world rising up and reclaiming the innate rights that we seem to have forgotten were ours.

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We have been widely and systematically coerced and seduced and terrorized into that forgetfulness. Because I have never been a consumer of “the news,“ noticing those who have been ensnared by the mainstream is a bit like observing a parallel but completely separate road, that road over there where people are wearing headphones and goggles that only show the same version of reality everywhere they might tune in.

When those screens shift into portraying what I believe to be the more real reality, perhaps then the next era of human shifting can occur.

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Is it happening yet? Has the mainstream deigned to show real footage from the overwhelmingly peaceful scene in Canada? Or, as I’ve heard, is it trotting out archive footage of riots and chaos that aren’t even in Ottawa, and claiming that a few fringe extremists are wreaking havoc? They certainly won’t display corroboration of the mass demonstration of love and solidarity that looks like it’s unfolding.

When hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of individual citizens train their ubiquitous cell phone cameras upon the reality playing out before them, it seems impossible that a few spiders within a few webs of media can reign as the unquestioned arbiter of what’s really occurring.

I’m not currently on social media, but if I were, wouldn’t I be inclined toward believing what family and friends, and their family and friends, are sending to me? Look at all these videos! Here’s a friend of a friend of a cousin who is in Ottawa! That sure doesn’t look like what I saw on CNN…

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Rumors are circulating that once the Freedom Convoy wraps up in Ottawa, they will head to the US border and then on down to Washington DC, gaining support and momentum like the avalanche they are.

Instead of boulders and chunks of filthy ice, they’re bringing along warm muffins baked by the grandmas. Extra rations for the kids they’ve pulled out of school to come with them in the family big rig or family sedan, for many non-truckers have joined the convoy, their vehicles interlaced within and between the truckers like minnows darting between magnificent whales, all heading unerringly for the new dawn.

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In the coverage that I’m watching of this miraculous and joyful uprising, the theme that keeps recurring is that this is a protest comprised of love. And really, what else could fuel the power of this revolution? (1)

When a freedom convoy comes rumbling through my town, which I’m sure it will, I’m unlikely to be out on the overpass with a banner. But I may bake some fabulous crunchy-topped blueberry muffins and send them over with a friend.

I reckon I’ll also be on hand when the mainstream screens begin showing what’s really going on, and friends who have been wearing goggles and headphones are suddenly treated to a completely new diet of truth, perhaps brought to them by no less than CNN itself.

Will it be “my“ version of truth? Only time will tell. And time, it feels, is speeding on the wings of a magical, airborne chariot, the chariot of inevitability that has been in motion since the inception of time itself.

(1) My favorite Freedom Convoy news source is Tarot by Janine: https://tinyurl.com/5n77nvt2

See also Sending Ravens with Tarot by Janine: https://tinyurl.com/2p8kfhbf