The Chrysalis Project

Mount Fuji in Red - A NewsBot Special

2011-03-29T09:28:00.014-04:00

Recently, I watched a dream on YouTube. Eight dreams, actually. They were neatly packaged into a thematic film by Akira Kurosawa, among Japan's greatest filmmakers. Indeed, even one of the most important filmmakers in the history of cinema!

Why now; Kurosawa died in 1998? Because he envisioned the future, a future that is now.

Dreams was nominated for a Golden Globe in 1990. Directed by Kurosawa, it includes a segment I stumbled upon rather serendipitously yesterday afternoon, if you believe in the serendipity. Personally, I don't. I believe in synchronicity, patterns and cycles; things that happen for a reason. I stumbled upon Mt. Fuji in Red, one of 8 segments in the feature length film, and was stunned. And then I watched the entire film.

From Dreams, Mt. Fuji in Red.

The film speaks to humankind's relationship with the environment. It's brilliant for many reasons: for its prescience, its beauty and its timely importance. Kurosawa clearly and chillingly presages our world today in this film.

Van Gogh's Wheat field with Crows, inspired another of Dreams eight vignettes. It speaks to the inner soul with subtle symbolism, Kurosawa's second language and one he speaks with eloquent fluency. A good deal of this film is available on YouTube. I hope, like me, you'll be captivated and view it. Dreams is also available on Netflix instant viewing.

In a mad world, only the mad are sane - Akira Kurosawa

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Moments of Clarity

2011-03-24T18:17:00.014-04:00

Moments of Clarity occur when truth previously obstructed is apprehended. That's a rather clumsy philosophical definition. Moments of Clarity occur when the fog lifts and one sees clearly -- like an epiphany. Better. It's when your head gets jerked around.

Such thrilling moments are now being experienced by many, as is always the case when a paradigm shift occurs amidst tumultuous change. Such change is part and parcel of the Grand Scheme, so this change is necessarily meaningful and purposeful. Personal epiphanies therefore naturally follow with austere moments of clarity.

We confidently make this assertion because each one of us is a unique cosmic fractal, like a tiny tear drop in an ever greater universal pond. Physically, emotionally and spiritually, we experience whatever the pond experiences. What happens to the pond happens to each and every tear drop: as above, so below. If you're unfamiliar with such cosmic beauty, here's an illustration of one of my favorite fractals.

Fractals are self-repeating patterns, always different and yet always the same. They are connecting tissues, like synapses, in a universal pond of consciousness.

Two thousand years ago in Rome, the fellow above was known as Sol Invictus, the Unconquered Sun. A temple built by Aurelian in his honor was dedicated on Dec. 25, AD 274. Of his many followers, perhaps the most famous was the Emperor Constantine, who converted to Christianity in 313 after he visioned a cross in the sky on his way to battle, or so the legend goes. He was victorious, hence his conversion.

What happened after 313 is now a matter of historical record, redacted as it may have been and for whatever purposes. Our attention, however, diverts to the false notion that the sun can be conquered, since that is precisely what our modern age has sought to do. They too were converted to a new religion. So welcome brethren to the Church of American Technology (CAT)* and its patron, one Jesus H. Christ.** Hear me out now, please, and don't go all huffy. The H stands for Helios, by the way.

Jesus H. is not the chap we know as Jesus of Nazareth, an itinerant, poor revolutionary Jewish prophet who preached peace and brotherhood and railed against religious hypocrisy in Judea almost two hundred years before Constantine conscripted him. Constantine's Jesus and CAT preach a unique sermon. Truth be told, Constantine never really knew Jesus from Jack, nor do many of the real Jesus' followers even today, it seems. No, Jesus, the real one, likely would be more at ease about Tahrir Square in Cairo or strolling the Egyptian Museum, getting on with his Muslim brothers and sisters, than he would be in any of his dedicated New World churches whose creed is the greedy gospel according to CAT.

What are the tenets of this false gospel? Well, think of the real Jesus and ascribe to CAT the exact opposite: hubris not humility; greed not grace; war not peace; division not unity; servitude not freedom and correct beliefs not correct living. The Church of American Technology believes, and believes very dearly, that not only the sun, but that all of nature can, indeed has been, conquered by technology. The sun should be laughing at them, especially now considering the man-made technological avarice toward Japan, a peaceful, vulnerable country. But, in humility and genuine sadness, the sun regrettably can only shed a fractal tear.

CAT's false gospel teaches that trees do grow to the sky, mankind has harnessed nature, and that truth yearning to be free must first be filtered; the people in the pews, you see, well they can't handle the truth. Ironic, isn't it, that the real Jesus died proclaiming that truth would set us free. Jesus' truth, the real truth, was co-opted long, long ago for self-serving political reasons, power and privilege -- distortions still operative today and brazenly trumpeted by CAT. Certainly, he also would shed a tear.

Moment of Clarity.

In our next installment, which I shall write when the sun stops crying, we will examine the peaceful nature of Gaia based spirituality. Examine the tiny, individual tear drops influencing the greater pond and their responsibilities. Examine imbalance on earth directly affecting our sun through a quantum morphic field of pure consciousness more potent than the electromagnetic field, gravitational field, or the weak and strong interactive fields! Examine Gaia; how she has and always must respond to pandemic gross injustice and malevolence. Examine the colors of a rainbow.

* CAT Church of American Technology was imagined in the 80s by my good philosopher friend, PQ Wall, N"Y.

** Jesus H. Christ is a metaphor for false gods worshiped by CAT.

Art by Holly Sierra for Chrysalis.

Holly Sierra

Days of Rage - Kali

2011-02-24T17:46:00.886-05:00

In my previous blog, the Maat archetype or energy, if you will, was all about balance; of tipping the scales of change that will, with some effort, recapture equilibrium. But when the scales of undulating change freeze, a terrible void ensues. This void, which nature deplores, is angrily filled by another type of energy. Its archetype is Kali.

Today I saw Kali. To employ a parenting analogy (Kali is a sacred feminine, great-mother archetype), Kali's children, who have not been listening, have wandered into grave peril either as individuals, or as a society, a civilization, or perhaps even as a species.

The dynamic of change symbolized by Kali at the microcosmic level addresses behavior; on the macrocosmic level, it addresses consciousness. On any level, Kali's anger is manifest in chaos -- a world unto itself. A non-linear world of fractals and endless patterns. When you reach wit's-end, when nothing no longer makes any sense, when order collapses into confusion and despair, that's chaos. It will grab your attention and test the essence of your coping skills.

Recently in the Middle East, I noted several indicators suggesting to me that Maat surrendered her frozen scales and withdrew; re-balance now appears impossible. If that's correct, the archetypal influence of Kali will soon become obvious as a dark, sinister vortex asserts terrifying influence in unimaginable ways.

Kali is chaos personified. She is creative destruction, either when she changes behavior or changes consciousness. It is to the latter we address these remarks. Much has been written about proper parenting; but about changing consciousness, not so much. It does have its metaphors, however. Consciousness changing creative destruction is often called a paradigm shift, enlightenment, 2012, a New Age or, to grab your attention, the Second Coming. In Farsi it's the cycle known as Harj-o-Marj. Whatever it's called, comprehension of it requires a new way of thinking, a new zeitgeist or world view and acceptance of "new truth" -- more importantly, rejection of old truth.

Somewhat off topic, but nevertheless interesting in reference to the 2012 metaphor, is the word Mayan, which is somewhat interchangeable with Maya. When we hear or read this word, an ancient Mesoamerican civilization comes to mind. In Eastern religions, Maya, which is always capitalized, stands for the energy of creation. Maya, coincidentally, is one of the principal attributes of Kali in Eastern religious traditions. If the metaphors are apt and timely, we're in for storms of momentous change that often require painful periods of creative deconstruction.

Modern generations have grown somewhat accustomed to gale force winds of change, to changes inconceivable to our ancestors, whose world views were seldom challenged. However, modern generations grew deaf to the telling, incipient breezes that precede such gales, and to their portents as well. Consequently, they are ill prepared for paroxysmal storms such as those now evinced in the Middle East and North Africa.

The science of morphic fields and depth psychology, still swaddled in infancy and soiled in controversy, do lend a useful understanding of public mood when manifest on a macro scale. These fields are so new and unfamiliar they are despairingly termed pseudosciences. Spontaneous revolutions, emergent paradigms, and sea-changes implied by the 2012 metaphor and such, while seemingly springing up out of nowhere, have been, in fact, anticipated by the more attentive (prescience is symbolized in the painting by Kali's Third Eye).

Examples of "fields" influencing public mood account for the synchronicity of distant and seemingly unrelated phenomena, as we shall see. George Bush, who I quote infrequently, was insightful when he said, "I believe that freedom is the deepest need of every human soul." Kali or any number of other archetypes could have whispered that platitude in his ear. Saying it is one thing, hearing it is another.

The dynamics of change may be illustrated by a pendulum, moving from a given point to an extreme and then returning to equilibrium, something like a scale. At the reversal of the pendulum's swing, where tension snaps, is that moment in space-time where Kali resides. Here, all hell often breaks loose, as the painting of Kali might suggest. Emotionally detached words describing this snap are entropy and enantiodromia, conceptual 'tipping points' as described by Malcolm Gladwell in his best seller of the same name. They imply that disorder will eventually transition to order and restore balance; no tree grows to the sky.

In just over a month's time, three despots have been either overthrown or placed in checkmate, as is the case with the King of Bahrain. Leading up to these seemingly spontaneous revolutions, each country's protesters designated a Day of Rage -- a date for massive organized peaceful protests to be followed by even more protests for as long as necessary to effect desired change. Word spread via social media and the internet, a phenomenon illustrated in the Kali painting by flashes of lightning proceeding from her tongue -- the omnipotent, creative energy of word and voice (logos). These revolutions were, for the most part, peaceful. Yet one shared characteristic is chronically obsessive State paranoia in its many ugly guises..

A brief word about the painting's crumbling tower. It is symbolic of duality, of matter connecting, or attempting to connect, to spirit. It also symbolizes the fortress of hunkered down, self-delusional ego.

While it may not be widely articulated, these Days of Rage, inspired and driven by morphic fields, not only are changing the world as we watch, but also are changing human consciousness from a paradigm of dualism to one of holism -- a unified Phoenix rising from ashes. In Tahrir Square in Cairo, Green Square in Benghazi and Pearl Square in Bahrain, the words and voices of revolutionaries emphasize the commonalities that unify humankind rather than the ones that divide it, which comprise the rotten stuff of paranoid, self-delusional ego. These words and voices insist we are connected by universal brotherhood. They are secular, fiercely deterministic and, like the wind, unstoppable.

Like the unity of the breezes and the gales.

Art by Holly Sierra for Chrysalis.

Holly Sierra

Behind the Curtain - Maat

2011-02-21T17:58:00.047-05:00

This morning, my mind awakened to thoughts of freedom in a troubled world, a world I've tried to make sense of for weeks with scant success. It's difficult. The pace of change in the Mideast and elsewhere is astounding. Something's up on a grand scale.

In times of sudden change, I've found it helpful to sail beneath the surface of my thoughts in search of deeper meaning. So to peer, if you will, behind the curtain, hoping to observe the playwright's unfolding scenes; to fuse conscious mind with unconscious heart; to enter the realm of ancient archetypes and mysterious symbols of what C.G Jung termed the "collective unconscious" of all humanity. To hear words of wisdom, if you will.

To behold wonderments behind the curtain, the Eye of Horus or mind's eye is my guiding light. I should use it more often. Perhaps we all should. Such journeys also require the silence of mindfulness -- a rarity in our rattled world.

When silence finally falls, voices will arise. The music of the words of wisdom. As I pass by headstones of memories, guided by the Eye of Horus, well wishers whisper their hushed farewells.

From one, "The torch has been passed to a new generation..." I finish his thought, which comes from behind the curtain. "To a new generation of Tunisians. And Egyptians. And Bahranians..." The voice returns to slumber as I add Libya and Yemen and Algeria and Morocco and ... the music subsides. And then, behind the curtain, my Third Eye glimpses a map of the world. And the map is named freedom.

And then silence whispers, "Let freedom ring." This was a voice that knew oppression first hand. It inspires me as I approach a river. A river behind the curtain. Upon a riverbank, I behold the image of another voice. The stage behind the curtain is silent now. The voice looks at me. He nods and then smiles. His half-naked body is frail and yet his spirit shines in the fullness of freedom. My heart assures me this river is the Ganges. I return his nod, smile and continue my journey down the Ganges. My journey toward Heart as the river turns red. As I approach the silent rhythms of Heart, formless thoughts of the playwright shapen. There is no curtain now. Just oneness. No black. No white. No Sunni. No Shia. No divisions at all. Just oneness.

The world, which I see clearly, is less troubled here. Here in Oneness populated with archetypes. Populated with the characters of the play. Of the playwright's play.

Maat emerges and embraces my heart. She tells me of her children. Of the men and women of freedom and justice. Of the well wishers. Of the little man. She shows me a statue named Liberty, and another named Justice and then the stars of Libra. These, she tells me, are her children too. These, she tells me, are the characters of the playwright's play. Somehow, I intuitively perceive the Ganges as the Sacred River of Spirit; the Nile, as the Sacred River of Creation. I also intuit a third river. It is dry. These are the symbols and the archetypes that speak to my heart. That speak to me on my journey down the great river.

A child rests upon Maat's knee. A male child. She tells me his name is Eternal Happiness. That he has a role in the playwright's play. He nods and smiles. She bids me gaze toward the Ganges. To gaze upon the red River of the half-naked man. Wherever I look, in all directions I see women from all nations. These women, she tells me, are strong; they are the Mothers of Eternal Happiness. The third river, she tells me, will flow with the mighty voices of these strong women. And the river is named freedom.

Ma'at speaks in her native tongue. In the silence of universal archetypes. The archetypes that symbolize freedom and justice. In the ink of the playwright's play. A pleasing voice, the voice of the lady Maat, of the River Nile.

I should return now from my silence. From the silence of the rivers. I pass by the little man. I pass by the gravestones of memories. The memories of the voices of freedom. I close the curtain. The curtain that covers the playwright's play.

The playwright passes a pen. She bids us write of the boy and of his legacy. Of the child on her knee. The child behind the curtain.

And the child was named Khaled Said. He was from Alexandria. He was 28 when he died a martyrs death, igniting a revolution of consciousness and a thirst for freedom and justice sweeping like the desert wind across Egypt, throughout the Arab world and beyond. Khaled was brutally beaten to death by corrupt Egyptian police because he had videotaped them stealing drugs and cash.

Five days following his death, an anonymous Facebook page was created. It quickly gathered thousands of followers. The word was written; the revolution was born. The Facebook page as an expression of unity was titled, "We are all Khaled Said." His story is told and retold in his native land. And it is forever written on the headstones of humanity's collective memory. In Arabic, Khaled's name translates as Eternal Happiness. We are all Khaled Said. We are all the Mothers of Khaled Said. We are all one.

Let freedom ring.

Let it be, let it be.

Khaled Said

Art by Holly Sierra for Chrysalis.
Holly Sierra

Ladies of Ephesus

2009-09-24T16:14:00.088-04:00

Not much remains of Ephesus, a ancient city in western Turkey (Anatolia) near the Aegean Sea. From the tourist guest houses on the hillsides of present-day Selcuk, it's a pleasant stroll down to what remains of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, the great Temple of Artemis (Diana). Not much: one column and most of the temple floor are all that's left. But pilgrims still come to Ephesus to brush shoulders with the sacred past.

Paul of Tarsus visited Ephesus twice and addressed one of his letters to the local Christian church. Centuries later, the city hosted a historic Church council. The Council of Ephesus in 431 proclaimed Mary the Mother of God, clearing up a raucous theological debate. Christian tradition today holds that Mary spent her final days living in Ephesus. If true, it's fitting. Truthfully, it's fitting regardless. Pilgrims visit what purportedly is her old stone house and gardens on the sunny side of Nightingale Mountain. Diana and Artemis, who preceded Mary, being long forgotten or dismissed deities.

Artemis (the statue of her pictured above was the Temple eye catcher) evolved from a Great Mother goddess known to the Phrygians of antiquity as Cybele. The Phrygians inhabited this area of Anatolia. Cybele was called the Mother of the Gods; Artemis was known as Queen of Heaven and Star of the Sea. These same titles were also bestowed upon Mary, with reference to a singular god, of course. Relics of a Great Mother in Anatolia extend as far back as 7,500 BCE!

What, if anything, makes this history relevant for us today? After all, what's past is past and Artemis never existed anyway, according to modern theological hubris and certainty. The answer, interestingly, depends upon how you think about time.

Western civilization is an anomaly in world history. It's the only civilization to reckon time solely as a linear construct. All other civilizations reckoned time either cyclically, or as linear progressions within a greater cycle, e.g. the Mayan culture. No wonder we Westerners hold ancient wisdom, its myths and metaphors, in such low regard. We see the distant horizon as a straight line knowing full well it looks different from outer space. This blog seeks to widen such horizons by invoking ancient wisdom; seeks to capture a snapshot of time, and of truth, using a wide angle not a zoom lens. To go where not much Christian thought has gone before.

Experts proffer various explanations of why the western world bid adieu to cyclical perceptions of time. This departure, however, is rather easily traced to the covenant between Yahweh and Israel that marked a unique and unrepeatable event in human history. In Sacred Canopy, Peter Berger writes: "At the heart of the religion of ancient Israel is a break with the entire universe..." In other words, only in the monotheistic Judaeo-Christian tradition were things set in motion once and for all time by the one, personal god.

That notion can lead to all manner of microcosmic, irrational conclusions. For instance, Sam Harris points out in The End of Faith that: "Most people in the world believe the creator of the universe has written a book." Or three no less. Such a credulous worldview guarantees religious intolerance and bigotry as believers cling to limited, linear horizons; to narrow, correct beliefs and notions of Absolute truth, and then too often kill those who dare disagree with this worldview. History confirms this, as do today's newspapers.

Returning to Ephesus with pure, refreshing thoughts, we're invited to reflect upon a patriarchal world run amuck in straight-line, historical linear progression; a world where past is regarded as the mere prologue to future progressions until the world ends (another foolish thought). With cyclical thought, the past is viewed more respectfully as prophecy for today, something to be learned from. Ergo, we would do well to remember the future, as someone once said. We certainly have the capability to do so, but will we take the time?

Could the sacred past at Ephesus possibly serve as a signpost to the future? Do the ladies of Ephesus have secrets to share? Yes, I believe they do.