If you are waiting for something some part of your consciousness slips into neutral, that part which anticipates the arrival enters a sort of stasis, twiddles its metaphoric thumbs, stares blankly through the windows to the world we call our eyes, expecting a sign.
Sometimes it can be a long wait.
Sometimes the rest of your consciousness forgets that part which is waiting.
The world spins.
Life goes on.
Hope diminishes, shrinks to a corner, eventually becomes just a subconscious gnawing, a white noise, something you have to remind yourself still lingers, is still alive.
So it must be for those that have lost a loved one, missing in action.
No certainty, just a hope that refuses to finally die.
They can live again, might even find love again, but at their core there is a precious place, the cherished glimmer of a hoped for reunion.
Maybe in the place where death takes us, wherever that is.
We are all of us waiting, we human beings.
Within the dark recesses of our beings, largely unnoticed in the whirling vortex of existence, flickers the tiny flame of a candle that yet burns, waiting to suddenly burst into incandescent joy.
We live with this expectancy. We have always lived with this expectancy. There is something missing from our lives, missing in action, and the glimmer of a hoped for reunion is within us all.
So what is it we wait for?
It has been so long since we have been estranged that we none of us understand what has gone from our existence. We simply carry this sense of loss, this sense that something is missing, this sense of not being whole.
We are incomplete.
Some will say that it is God we have lost and reach for their bastardised books and dig through chapter after chapter of mangled, edited and mistranslated words to prove their point, poor things.
And maybe they’re right……
It’s just that something instinctively tells me that the bigoted, murderous, racist misogynist, petty bastard we read about in their books isn’t what humanity is missing, nor indeed what we need to be made whole.
And if it is, god help us, for he has been nothing but trouble from day one, as have all the other 5,000 or so gods we’ve killed each other over throughout history.
Each and every one of them being the one true god, of course.
But there is, in the god myths, something that connects with the yearning, something that disguises itself as the missing piece well enough to fool billions of us, or at least ease the pain of separation.
It is the success of this disguise that our masters have utilised to such great effect though the ages to sinisterly bring us under their control, and then to use the beliefs they have created within us to cause us to inflict misery upon each other in the name of these false gods.
Do you honestly believe there is a god that looks benignly down on the god-awful mess humanity is making in his name, on the bloodletting and the child murdering and the hatred and say that this is good, that this is love?
Does he fuck.
And so the evidence suggests that the yearning may be for a connection with something that’s close to the idea of a god, something ineffable, something we are an estranged part of, something that cares for us, loves us, is love, is the missing piece of our consciousness.
As the observer looks around so the discerning can see the gradual formation of a new myth being prepared for the new humanity we are becoming.
The new myth will have its saviour, its Messiah, amongst us now according to the United Nations sponsored new age religionists, He or She or It who will save us from the chaos we are in.
The design will be for the new age. No more old books, but the technological miracle worker, the product of a hundred years of psychological understanding and a hundred years of mind control science and the magick they have prepared for us so that he or she will speak to each of us in our own minds, as promised.
You see, we have always fallen for these messiahs in the past.
Simply because we are missing something that they look just like.
We are missing love.
The question remains:
Why is it that our masters have prepared the new world we are edging ever closer towards? Hasn’t the old world worked just fine for them? Why fix it if it ain’t broke?
And the answer must be:
Even if we can’t see its weakness, can’t see the impending threat, they can.
They know it’s broken, they know its time is up.
Because they fear we are about to be reunited with that missing piece, and our inner flames will become incandescent with the joy of it, and their mastery over us will be over.
No other explanation fits the circumstances.
And surely there is not long to wait.
Know there is good out there.
We are allowed to hope.
Love Olive Farmer & Aktina Pempti
Xxx xxx xxx