People around Abiquiu claim descent from the Pleiadians and their beloved animals.
We’ve always known relatives from other places, Andromedans, Orionites, Zeta-reticulans, Sirians.
Cosmic relations are expressed by our plaza, also in new homes we align with winter and summer light.
All around are invisible realities where contact may occur.
Some hear coyotes speaking in computer beeps; some entertain guests unaware.
Owls, for example, have one song beyond the range of our hearing, interleaved with multi-dimensional information.
A 4-D projection of this song generates a star.
I invite you to stand close tonight looking up, while our heart frequencies entrain, and we experience heart cognition, a kind of analytic thought oriented around images with feeling.
Associating memories attract light.
Your memory becomes an informational flow accessed through pathways or stories others share with others, that seem simple in daylight, though you may be traveling backward in time or forward by resonance into space.
That may be the only way to communicate with some others.
Where are you going? Where are you coming from?
I’m going to the stone circle at the end of my land; I’m going to collect seeds from primroses on the road, to look at some land to buy, to visit my friend, to visit my mother.
Crossing and re-crossing arroyos and mesas create a dense web between beings and home.
In the same way, the neural grid of an ecosystem continually adjusts to maintain, as light between the hearts of mother and daughter or light back and forth from stars maintains homeodynamics in space.
Our desire for light, for consciousness, is pulled from the transcendent domain of potentia by the needs of environment, herself.
When you were a baby, my friend painted the star beings who visited her as angels, Kachinas, very beautiful snakes.
She taught us to hold our connection with each other in a new geography that weaves stars with the ground.
Milky Way courses overhead; dark patches show against its foam, like divinations.
Earth is a node of intersections in our galaxy and beyond; she receives millions of tons of extra-terrestrial material a year as cosmic dust, meteorites, asteroids breaking up to scatter their bacteria and splashing ours back out.
All life forms are in potential genetic exchange; viruses transpose DNA between mosquitoes and humans, for example, or between plants and micro-organisms from space.
We symbiotically merge into more complex new species to stabilize earth’s self-organizing ecosystem, as a whole.
I describe consciousness as mother, earth, and the intelligence that shapes it.
It’s like an image of the moon on two different television sets.
The real moon exists in different space than our living room.
When we go outside at night, I’m nervous; I’m afraid for the animals; I mix consciousness with time, confuse time with what could happen.
I struggle for understanding beyond environmental fears and grief.
Consciousness is like the live-feed of a jaguar on two different video screens.
The real jaguar’s filmed in the rainforest, preparing her energies.
Before, I knew what to look for at night; I no longer know.
My fear offers new possibility, the way awareness can create.
Two birds perch in a constellation tree with the same name; one eats starfruit; the other looks on.
They’re together, which we recognize, like the sun and moon; one shines out; one waits for light.
Observing and observed universe are complementary aspects of their love.