Story can come in the form of true story or in fiction. When the author doesn’t tell you, it may be up to you to decide. I always loved how author Snoopy on the Peanuts comic strip used to begin his stories with “it was a dark and stormy night…”
This story is a cartoon with a little science fiction and a whole lot of Shamanism. I hope you enjoy…
It was a dark and stormy night, a stormy time in the evolution of humanity…
First she told them she had changed her mind and that when the spaceship came back ‘round this time—she was getting on it.
They knew she wouldn’t change her mind so they asked if they could come along. One of them offered to pack sandwiches.
“Make mine egg salad,” said the other.
The next time they spoke, she said she was packing her bags.
They said they completely understood. And they couldn’t stand the thought of being left behind.
They said they were packing too.
She told them she would insist on taking coffee. Good coffee. “I have so few vices these days,” she said. “I gave up so many; coffee is the only thing left.”
They laughed but she wasn’t kidding. Starbucks was just around the corner. She could get some beans…
The next time they called she said the ship was here and this was “goodbye.”
They said to ask the driver to wait for them.
“Too late,’ she said, “I’m outta here. Now.”
She had decided she was leaving the planet at the first opportunity. And there would be no turning back.
She had made that same threat once before in her life and her friends replied: “If I know you; when the spaceship lands you will start down the walkway and change your mind and come back to continue your work here.”
Not this time.
She decided she didn’t care for this civilization and she’d also pretty much decided that humanity was no longer worth it. She couldn’t live on a planet that had come to this.
Pleas for dignity and decency were being ignored and the reply that came was arrogant. “We recognize that while not everyone will appreciate it, we believe it has educational value…”
Was she even on the right planet?
Story Flashback: The last few days had seemed like she was living an X-file in a perfect storm. She almost got out the tape to place an “X” in the window. Where were Mulder and Scully when you needed them?
Emergency calls, emergency warnings, IT technicians and virus scanners, all-nighter conferences, hackers taking similarly dedicated websites down, porn links in comment forms, funky computer glitches, emails getting lost in the Ozone, deliberately sent viruses, networks going down, Skype offline due to weather on one side of the world and six hours worth of edits disappearing on that side of the ocean while someone on this side waited and worked ahead. There was e-mail stalking, phone calls coming from everywhere, a 12- hour phone marathon, and then came the blackout—not a light in the city as far as the eye could see. Cell phones substituted for land lines and calls across continents while charging the phone in a vehicle because there was no electricity. Accompanying the blackout was a spring-like thaw with freezing rain and black ice. The next morning there was pea soup fog followed by a drop in temperature and below zero winds. And an eerie silence that can’t be described.
Story Continues: First she felt like a warrior, then with very little sleep she felt like a warrior zombie and as an empath, she just FELT… And there was that gnawing sense of urgency knowing that people were counting on her and the others; she began to question her sanity in signing up for this mission. It felt like she and all the others were on the front in a war for sanity and humanity and human dignity was taking casualties.
If the battle for human dignity was lost, she wanted out. She wanted away from them. No, that’s not quite true. She wanted away from everybody. She didn’t like anybody and they could take their planet and….
After completing the mission, with a few hours sleep, coffee, and a victory against the temporary and constantly changing Darth Leader of the dark side and on the eve of the New Year, she felt battered, fatigued, but relieved. She knows she is not alone.
She knows that every warrior who engaged in this battle in favor of humanity feels shell-shocked, battered and spent.
She looks now at the magnitude of what had happened. She looks at the players and layers in the shell game they all had just witnessed and saw that humanity had won—for now. She was pleased. Not jubilant, but simply and quietly pleased. And it was New Years Eve.
Since she felt an unusual exhaustion, she knew that all of them were feeling it too. She had to get out of there, out of the place where darkness had come and to move among the living; she wanted to speak to and feel real people not virtual ones, so she went to a New Years Eve open house.
She ate for the first time in two days; toasted the New Year and hugged friends. It felt good to hug people, but something inside her was changed. She is not the same now. She doesn’t know what that means yet, she only knows it’s true. She knows too that something she can’t see but feels has changed. The cold is crisper now. The sun is brighter and the night in New Years Eve, was somehow softer. She doesn’t know what that means either.
She has made some interesting discoveries about herself. She found out that she can be fierce when it matters but that her fierceness can become difficult to regulate. And when she feels that empathic fierceness on behalf of others, and humanity while simultaneously feeling repelled by humans she can feel a weariness in the bones of the ancients and she can become the Wolfwoman. She snarls and claws and protects herself when feeling vulnerable—even from those in the same den. Her senses seem to get amplified and in particular, the sense of sound. Something happens to her ears and voices become grating and invasive and too loud. Human voices can hit the ears like an assault. She knows now about that fist in the ears. She understands now.
She was glad when it was over and she could take a breath. But she had trouble sleeping. And she felt as if something that was young and tender inside her was hurt really badly. Something had gone into hiding or it was gone completely. She has experienced that once before—the feeling of a deer when it is injured or scared, it hides in the brush, curls up and shivers—alert and alone until the imprint of the experience is gone from the body.
She didn’t understand why she couldn’t feel the fullness of victory. Was she holding back out of fear that something would disturb the calm after riding that storm— that perfect storm?
Suddenly it hit her—Michael Jackson weathered a perfect storm every day of his life. And he sings posthumously about who brought him through it. Michael may have had people to handle some of the storm for him, but she knows that as a target and an empath, he felt it all. And for him, there was no lasting victory. She knows too, that this is not a clear or lasting victory for those who have stepped up with voices calling for human dignity, but it is a beginning. The mission is clear and it expands… and she knows they will all need to speak of that later. But for now, it’s the New Year. They have stood together in their power. They have spoken as one, and they have been heard.
Later in her dreams she sees them all as deer—who for now, curl up in the bushes, enjoy their own warmth, the light that is brighter, the fresher air and the night that is softer. They shiver now for their own healing and recovery with alert ears and huge eyes toward the future. They have outrun the predator—for now. She learns in her dream that sometimes a single deer will sacrifice itself to save the herd. She thinks she may know such a deer.
She dreams that she knows the herd can shapeshift now—from the gentle deer that they would like to remain to the snarling pack that circles the den protecting the spirit of the deer who has laid down its life so the herd could survive. She knows in her bones that the right wolf was fed. And she knows now that she can trust the pack.
——————————————–
From the authors of the U Message: They thought there would be more time. They thought they could prepare. Instead, they found they had only 24 hours. They crafted fiercely and only to present a powerful statement and united voice.
They had planned to bring in more voices. They had planned to communicate more. They had planned to eat more and sleep more and drink more coffee. And they didn’t allow for a perfect storm. They would like to say thank you for the support and patience. There were no spare breaths and no spare moments. No one was purposely left out or behind. And everyone was in the big room with them while they were working—whether you knew it or not. They want to say thank you to those who helped and especially to those angels… and you know who you are. They will have no public statement for anyone. They are wordsmiths and their words speak for them. And very, very consciously for the herd become the pack.
16 Comments
I have never been HUGGED as lovingly as this. Love you Rev. B.
Beautiful. I can’t think of any other word that comes to mind. That was beautiful.
Thank you for this! If I seem a bit short for adequate words it’s because I, too, am feeling the exhaustion right now. But this beautiful piece really helped to lift me.
For the gentle deer who gave his earth life for the rest of us: be assured that snarling pack will only snarl when necessary; will circle only when wolves threaten and intrude. Growls will come from every corner of the earth that was so loved and make noise louder and more ferocious than a wolf multitude. On guard is a constant and daily state of being; focused and watching eyes hold a spirit as sacred. We have entered a new place, not as warm as a smile and not as loving as a heart. We have triumphed this time; unity and solidarity have a ‘feel’ now and love is the stage we stand on, together. Rest now and be free–we protect, and we do it well.
Beautiful.
Yes, beautiful and precise, and the feeling is recognizable. It reminds me of Annie Lennox singing in a somewhat routine way: “Hey, hey, I saved the world today.” Time to relax now as more is yet to come. After all we are only human. Hugs to the whole pack.
Reverend Barbara, Your words brought such a powerful sense of unity, of pack. We carried a vision of healing the world through peace and love. This experience was a fierce awakening, a shock, that when necessary the warrior must arise in full fighting armour, and we were not prepared to manifest the wolf. The spirit of the deer that gave it’s life is a sacred spirit, and in it’s presence we are standing on holy ground. When necessary we will circle and protect. We have learned a great lesson. Mother wolf. we stand behind and beside you ministering strength to you as we learn from you.
Wolves are essentially monogamous; they hear so sharply they register the falling of autumn leaves. Wolves can react aggressively in SELF-DEFENSE. When howling together wolves harmonize to create the illusion that there are more wolves than there actually are. Some people think wolves howl at the moon. Obviously some wolves have howled for a Moonwalker. When the news came down of the Filthamentary's cancellation, I felt no relaxation, no relief, no exultation and zero renewed trust. Especiaily in those who had been rabid enough to even consider the horror in the first place. I sat and listened to my insides and they said "we are in a war-- a real one." You'd better not close your eyes and you better keep your wolf-ears peeled. My mother long ago told me how my uncle came home from World War II with amnesia from shell-shock. He'd been blown out of his fox hole and he no longer knew who he was or recognized his loved ones. The family doctor told him, to get his memory back, just go out and get a little drunk any time you feel like it. My uncle did and my mother said as a result, you could here him singing like a sweet boy when he was walking up the street at night to their home, and he started to remember. He was a deer who sacrificed himself for the other deer (dears.) I feel raw. But I'm grateful to have been made a Wolf. Better not violate my Deer Moonwalker. This time it was only my barred teeth. Sorry to have to say this-- but the stakes in this war seems to nothing less than the human soul; so yes, that was a warning. Thank-you Barbara - again, again, again.When I was writing my protest emails to the people in charge of Discovery Channel, I had the feeling that I was uniting my voice to thousands of others voices, fighting for LOVE and HUMANITY. I hoped that all our voices would stop this insanity and “make a change.” But I was not sure. Now, the change has been made! I think that I never realised that Love could be so powerful. I am profoundly happy and grateful. I think that Michael would be proud and grateful too. And a big “Thank you” to the authors of the Universal Message. Barbara, as Heidi said, I do feel too that you are a Mother Wolf. Thank you for this beautiful shamanic story. Nicole P-H (France)
Dear Rev B- I remember you said once that our lights all together could defeat the darkness in this world. That darkness could not defeat darkness, only light can. I am paraphrasing your words, but the essense of your meaning is there. This experience has proved that together we can gather our light to shine brightly to destroy the darkness in this world. Michael was absolutely prophetic when he said- “There is nothing that can’t be done, if we raise our voice as one.” This experience that we have shared together, all of us all around the world, is proof that his words are so very true. I feel blessed to be able to add my little light to all of yours.’ Shine On! LYM- Cat
I remember when watching the movie this is it, I rewound the section where Michaels talking about the fist in the ears. Like you, I knew it was not just the present sound he was talking about. I saw the gulp in the throat and the will to fight back tears. I knew why at that moment and began to cry for him. I still do. I understood. I know I am in the right place, with the right people, the right pack and doing the right things for the right reasons. The uncovering of Michaels name on a school so children could see a true gift, the shut down of a foul book meant to do harm, and the most recent Discovery channels planned program postponed. I too feel, rested, yet not finished. There is much more ahead. I too know it is time to prepare, and gain strength. Thank you so much for seeing with more than your eyes, hearing with more than your ears, feeling with all of your heart.
This storm is relentless. Sometimes, amazingly, we have some control over what happens and that feels good, then the next wave hits and sometimes we can only be observers. The next storm is brewing now so fast on the heels of the last one that you can hardly draw breath. As I believe you said before Rev. Barbara, it will not only be Dr. Murray who will be on trial, but Michael too (again.) I am not sure that I can think of one other person in my lifetime who has been so relentlessly hunted as Michael Jackson. His spirit and strength remain a constant inspiration and the force field of love surrounding him is surely growing stronger.
Janet — I love your comment — “the force field of love surrounding him . . .” After years and years of feeling so helpless as he was continually hunted, it is good for our souls to see a little bit of a crack in all the ugligness. I like being part of the force field. Thanks for that analogy. Love and peace all, Sue.
I’ve heard that is common when someone dies and you still remembering again and again: “let him rest in peace” I heard that for 19 months. But do not understand that extraordinary people can never be forgotten. People who leave their mark, the great geniuses left his legacy which transcends their own lives. Michael Jackson’s legacy goes far beyond his art, it is based on humanitarian and philanthropic work. That is so for the fans is the most important: humanitarian thinking, the brotherhood of all living things, peaceful coexistence between nations, respect, care and preservation of nature as a system, are values that should talk and work. What many do not know is this sense in which we are here talking about Michael. It is not just the dancer, the gifted singer songwriter that fascinates us all, it is difficult to understand for those not familiar with the inner Michael. Geniuses never rest in peace and when someone wants to know about them, admire their work, there is their essence captured for eternity. Thanks Barbara for sharing the pain. Thank you for your time with this task of giving hope and encouragement.
Michael must be such a MASSIVE threat to darkness. Why? Does darkness grasp the power of Light much more than Light grasps its own power? Is that why Light has not yet vanquished darkness here and why darkness can snuff out light? Is this our mission should we choose to accept it? To alert to the power of light despite blinded to it by darkness and to understand that power is ours to use? Why have we been blinded to it? I know Im not the only one dumfounded by this. Maybe I’m the only one posting HERE who is so IN THE DARK. Has anyone else felt like Michael grabbed them by the scruff of their neck when he left the body? That he is dragging them somewhere they would suffer something crushing for not reaching? Did his dying start to save us? Right now, I don’t understand anything.
It was a dark and stormy night, I do believe, in the childhood and throughout the adult life of Michael Jackson. I have been reading and watching and listening over these last 19 months since Michael went away, and in so doing, I find myself wondering if that perhaps sometimes we can love someone to death. Not intentionally, but in loving them so unconditionally that we stagnate them and render them unable to handle the world around them. I happened upon a video of Michael being prepared to go onstage for one of his concerts. He was being dressed by Karen Faye and some other people. He stood there as they put his clothes on him, fussed with his hair, his makeup. They were actually dressing him as if he were “a child”. And it hit me, that all of his life this had been his reality. Michael had a mother who loved him fiercely. He was her baby, her world, her special child. What the adult Michael needed was a strong, loving woman to say to him sometimes, you can do it. And then let him. He needed reassurance that should he stumble, she would still be there, waiting to hold him and give him a soft place to fall. No more darkness. No more storms.