What Is Natural Magic?

I use the phrase “natural magic” often, and sometimes people ask me to explain it.

I can’t.

But I’m going to try anyway. Or at least I’ll try circling around it, hoping that you get it too. I’m pretty certain that you will and that you may even already know it, perhaps under another name.

First of all, it’s not like “casting a spell” – it isn’t so much something you do as it is something you are. It might be more like an intention… you see? I’m already lost trying to explain it.

Oookay… let’s take healing, for example. The way I do (and teach) healing is that you open yourself up to healing energy, inviting it to flow through you, grounding and connecting you to both heaven and earth. Then when you are cleansed, filled, and overflowing, you invite it to flow into someone else to cleanse and fill them, and they also become grounded and connected to both heaven and earth.

(I use the word “heaven” loosely, not in a Judeo-Christian sense, although you can use it that way if that’s what works for you – just be careful not to limit it!)(You might prefer to call it “nonlocal consciousness.)

Natural magic is pretty much the same thing. You invite it to fill you – and then you let it flow into… something…

(In fact, I suspect that this kind of healing and natural magic are the same thing, but I’m not quite certain of that.)

You don’t exactly tell it to do this or to make that so. You hold it loosely. One way to do that is to say, “Wouldn’t it be lovely if (thus and such) or something even better comes to pass?”

This freedom allows O Universe to be co-creator with you. It allows something wiser than your conscious mind to choose how to bring you what you truly, deeply, and wisely need and want. It’s much more of a surrender to the magic than it is a conscious choice.

Got that? Questions? Observations?

© Copyright 2019 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.

What If…

What if
the Rapture came
in the middle of the night
and in the morning
we rejects went out to find
tinfoil hats
old zoot suits
worn red spike-heeled shoes
with one spike broken halfway?
Or a pair of red silk thongs
slung across
tinfoil underpants —
all scattered on the pavements?
Would we realize
from this strange detritus
that we are the crazy ones,
the lazy ones,
the ones that didn’t make it,
and that
what god/dess really wanted,
what s/he was growing in this world,
were the trippers, the daily
roller-coaster riders,
the wild-eyed ones
who wear their clothes backward,
the oddities, the ones who
can’t stop laughing,
the ones who walk
through the park, shouting,
“The locusts have stolen my honey!” —
the ones who never say, “Be safe!”
the ones who live
on the very edge of glory?

© 2018 Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.

Creation & Gratitude

The Universe is trying to spiral up and out. Light wishes to expand. It’s what light does. It shines. It spreads. It moves.

The Fae tell me it is important to say ‘thank you’.

When and why did saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ go out of fashion? I notice on the internet, especially Facebook, that people who want to share something someone else has posted like to say that they are ‘stealing’ it — and yet in most cases it was put there to be shared. So what is the big difficulty in using words like ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ‘sharing’ that is so hard that people would rather say they are ‘stealing’ something?

Sometimes others say that they are not going to ‘beg’ for something, meaning that they are not going to say ‘please’. When and why did a small courtesy become a humiliation in their minds?  When did snatching something away from someone become a better thing than saying, ‘May I please have…?’

When I ask people about this, they laugh and say, “I want to be a pirate.” Oh. Or, “I think it’s cute.” Really? (Another of the things the Fae like to say is, “You become what you pretend to be.” But we [perhaps] will talk about that some other time.)

Yet… the Fae keep telling me that saying ‘thank you’ is very important. It gives energy back, keeps that energy from stagnating, dying. To keep it alive, keep it moving. If we say ‘thank you’ and ‘you’re welcome’ appropriately, we keep circulating that kind of energy. We channel energy into words and actions, and if that energy is “plus” (charged), it is re-energized and becomes stronger in each of us. Each time we stop, everyone is drained a bit. People who want to grab it all and hold on are just holding onto something that is dying. The only way to keep it charged, to keep ourselves full and overflowing is to keep passing it on.

Now, every healer knows that when you channel energy it fills you as well as filling the person you’re trying to channel it to — unless, of course, you’re being silly and using your own energy for the healing (more about that some other time). There is a lot of energy in O Universe — more than we can imagine, more than we can use in a sesquillion lifetimes. And, if we handle it right, the energy we use becomes stronger — and it circulates.

So I have to ask myself what am I doing to put energy back into the circuit of kindness? Of courtesy? Of healing? Of compassion? The energy that propels the universe — look at a galaxy — it moves. And all the galaxies together move. They comprise the universe — and all the universes together are the multiverse, which (you guessed it) moves.  We are always doing something. Even doing “nothing” is letting the energy become stagnant, leak out. What puts the “charge” or “plus” or “energy” into the system? What keeps it all from running down? What kind of energy are we moving, you and I?

Shall I tell you what the Fae say? They say that the way we add to the creative, healing, compassionate, joyful energy in the universe is by feeling joy or gratitude or kindness. Can you believe that it’s that simple? Every time you generate a truly good feeling in yourself it puts a stronger positive spin on the energy of the universe. It adds that spin to the non-local consciousness of O Universe. It changes the Multiverse. Every single honest smile changes the Multiverse.

Thank you for your help!

p.s. I just looked up at Marzipan. She smiles. Partly, it’s the markings on her face that give her a smiling look. But it’s also the slight pucker of her mouth that pulls her whiskers forward in true cat’s smile. It’s the way her ears perk up, listening for a friendly word, and her head tilts slightly as she gives that cat’s slow blink of affection as she sits erect, paws neatly together, attentive, waiting for a loving response. Utterly charming. You really can’t not smile back. And the Multiverse grows.

Truthiness, Energy, & Faery Economics 103

I just awakened (it’s 4:45 AM, but who cares about that?) with faery economics in my head again. I don’t, as you must realize by now, fully understand them, so the fae keep trying to explain them to me. This is very basic stuff to them, but full of shifting energies and mystery to me.

This morning’s lesson: It’s all about change and the exchange.

I woke up wondering why the fae want me to write the books I’m working on, because it is my perception that they do want that very much. (I won’t argue with anyone about whether that is objectively “true” or not—my perceptions may or may not be thy perceptions, but—like all of us—mine influence what I do. So I’m working hard on the books and they are coming along well—again, my perception 😉 ). As I think/intuit my way through Marzipan’s story, it is changing my energy/thoughts/behavior in a way that the world could change—if enough of us want it to make it so. And the oracle book is the same, but different.

The thing I’m learning right this moment is that the reason the fae have so much difficulty with the “money thing” (see http://www.jesalog.com/?s=economic for my first two posts on this) is because their perception and methods are so different from humans. Instead of messing around with earning money with which to attempt to buy things that may not even be for sale, they look for a connection of desire-energy with matching desire-energy. For instance, if I want to see the world change in a certain way and if they want to see the same changes, it obviously (to them) behooves us to work together. Their idea of “working together” seems to be about facilitating things in a naturally magical way that will help both of us to do what we can toward that change, resulting in a synergistic effect that neither of us may be able to create by ourselves.

Like writing books. Well, I can write them by myself, but that doesn’t get them out to other people. For publication and distribution I need both help and “luck”—cooperation, synchronicity, things coming together in surprising but wonderful ways. Meeting the right people “by accident”, receiving the right help at the right time “by coincidence”. Of course, my part in this is to exercise serendipity—the ability to recognize good things when they happen and to take advantage of them. And to, ahem, actually write down the inspirations in a coherent and (hopefully) engaging form.

In practical terms, from my own side of the experience, this seems to result in many things, both large and small, “working” for me in a fashion that is convenient and verging on the miraculous. “Coincidence” and synchronicity abound.

Even if it turns out that we humans can’t or don’t do our part “successfully” there is still value in what we do—in the energy/action. It adds to the total of that energy/action in our Universe, in non-local consciousness, in the Void-which-is-fullness. If we make the effort, it adds to the force of change—and the fae understand that even when we don’t. It’s the effort that counts more than any illusory “results”. You change the world, even if the human part of the world doesn’t notice.

It’s kind of like the hundredth monkey thing. You know that story, right? The one where there are two islands, both inhabited by monkeys but the monkeys of one island are not in physical contact with each other. On one island, the monkeys figure something out and develop a new behavior. They wash their some of their food before eating it. The new behavior spreads throughout the island, and when the last ( or the hundredth monkey, depending on the version) has learned to wash the food before eating it, there is a sudden jump (I suppose this is where nonlocal consciousness comes in). Suddenly, monkeys on the neighboring island, without physical contact with the first group, begin washing their food before eating.

This story has its problems—like whether or not it is “true” in an objective view of truth as factual information. (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hundredth_monkey_effect ) However, it has a certain value of “truthiness” for many people. It’s based on something that many feel intuitively is true—that the world can be changed by intangible means—even that behavior can be changed in a widespread group when enough beings adopt the new behavior. It may be objectively true, it may not—we haven’t proved it scientifically either way and we’ve only our internal, intuitive, gut-feeling to go on. It’s about the reality or unreality of nonlocal consciousness, which we’ve talked about before here.

I guess what I’m saying is that it works for me. Does it work for you? (The comments link is at the bottom of the page below the sharing buttons—and your comments would be most welcome!)

When God/dess Grins At You…

I dreamt…

I was trying to understand…

I was in a large, open, airy room with many other people. Around the edges of the room (and randomly placed within it) there were shelves, cupboards, and bookcases — all crammed full of things. At a glance I could see hundreds of books (of course!), jars of various powders and liquids, rolled scrolls, piles of art supplies, whatever we might need to learn by creating.

It felt like a school but we were our own teachers. We were all sitting in little groups at small tables, but we were not working together. Each one was studying on his or her own. Some were writing in notebooks, others making drawings, diagrams, paintings, or sculpting. Some were reading, and a few were doing combinations of these things. There was an intense silence except for the rustling of pages, the skritch of pens upon paper, and the soft sound of brushes. I had a large pad of paper in front of me together with pens of many colors — bright and subtle, clear and muddy, translucent and opaque, scintillating and dull, through and beyond the rainbow.

I urgently, achingly wanted to understand something about God/dess so I began by drawing the three circles of a Venn diagram. Venn diagrams are fun and sometimes they bring great clarity to things. These didn’t. Each circle became more complex as I wrote within it and studied it. The things within the circles multiplied, as if they were spawning other circles randomly. Things that seemed simple on the surface were full of complicated concepts that often I couldn’t comprehend at all. The harder I tried to understand, the more confusing it was. I got hot and sweaty and frustrated and felt like a failure. My beautiful colored pencil broke because I was pushing so hard. This wasn’t working! I felt driven to do this but was getting nowhere.

A gong rang. Everyone gathered their things up quickly and streamed out into the bright day, chattering . The area we emerged into was mostly paved, but there were occasional benches on little areas of grass with flowers, bushes, and an occasional a lone tree. There were huge numbers of people there, all coming from different buildings and streaming toward … something — I didn’t know what. The people were different ages, nationalities, colors. Some seemed happy, some sad, many perplexed, even some frustrated and overheated like me. We were like the pens I had been working with — no permutation was missing. We were gradually funnelling into a single walkway, with light-colored (kind of tan, kind of gold) walls on both sides. The sun shone brightly on the wall to the right.

As we passed a stylized metal sculpture of god/dess (it was impossible to tell which) hanging on the wall, some people were pausing to pray aloud or to discuss it. I paused too, but didn’t do either of those things. I held out my cupped, upward-turned hands to the god/dess, not knowing if I was offering something or begging. It felt like both. The god/dess’s eyes sparkled as she/he looked at me and he/she grinned.

In that moment…


I understood.

I got it fully.

No, I can’t explain it. Some things (quite a lot of them, in fact) don’t fit into words. The only way you can put them into words is to chop bits off — which is not something one should (or can) do with god/dess. To do so simply lessens understanding rather than enhancing it.

The people around me fell silent as they saw the god/dess grinning gleefully at me from that formerly neutral, stylized face. I turned away from the pressure of their intent but unspoken demands for explanations that it was not possible to give.

A small, brown, round-faced child suddenly grinned up at me with exactly the same look of glee and joy that god/dess had. He had it! I woke up suddenly and jumped out of bed. Then I just stood there, smiling and smiling for no reason at all. It was like everything that had been jangled inside me was suddenly humming smoothly.

It’s feeling, but it’s much more than feeling. It’s much more than words. It’s that moment of total connections — and something more.

It is what it is.

Who's a mycelium then?

Mushrooms under Fir

I wonder some things…
For instance… my grandmother,
my granddaughter. Some might say,
if they saw what I’ve seen,
that this child is Gran’ma’s dharma heir,
and neither of them know the word “dharma”.
And some would say that one
is the reincarnation of the other,
if they saw what I’ve seen.

I had an odd little experience a couple of evenings ago. I was on an inner journey to talk to the goddess in her aspect of the crone. (I often refer to the crone as “grandmother” and have great affection for her.) On this night, when I addressed her as Grandmother, my own Gran’ma Susie (mother’s mother) was suddenly there beside the goddess, just to the right of her.

She was smiling a contained little smile with such a twinkle behind it — you could just tell she was trying not to burst out laughing. That expression is so well-remembered, and I’ve seen that same smile on my granddaughter’s face. It was there a lot when Megan was a small merry person full of jokes. Gran’ma liked to deliver her jokes and outrageous puns with a straight face — or nearly straight — and Megan does the same. Anyway, Gran’ma was standing there, atwinkle and beaming, and I was just plain startled to see her.

I used to see or hear her often before Megan was born, but I had, we had reasons to think that perhaps my grandmother had reincarnated as my granddaughter — keeping herself in the family, as it were. A whole range of psychics, channels, mediums, clairvoyants, shamans and what not have told us over the years, first, that Gran’ma would be coming back as my son’s child, then later on that she was then taking the first steps to manifest that, and then after Megan’s birth, over and over that Megan was strongly connected to her. This information was always volunteered, never asked for by one of us.

In her turn, even as a very small child, Megan had that half-teasing smile, along with the strength, courage, wry sense of humor, and lovingness that one would expect if she were indeed Gran’ma come back. But here Gran’ma stood, feet planted firmly on the earth of my inner world, “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” as we say in my family and very much herself.

“You’re surprised to see me, aren’t you?”

I nodded and hesitantly admitted that I thought she had reincarnated.

“Well, I won’t say I haven’t, exactly. But I won’t say that I have, either.”

To say I was puzzled would be understating the matter. I was even more baffled when Megan abruptly appeared to the left of the goddess. She is ten years old now. Gran’ma looked to be in her 50s — about the age she was when I had the years that Megan has now. It was easy to see the resemblance: the eyes, the way the hair curls, their hands, the feel of them both — a fierce and deep compassionate love they both hold for others, leavened by humor and a charm that I suspect comes from just loving people and the world in general.

(I remember that when Gran’ma was dying and I was sitting with her in the hospital, one of the very last things she did was to look up at me and with an obvious effort breathlessly said, “I love you all. I love each of each of you.” She struggled to say more and couldn’t, so I tried to help. “Do you want me to tell everyone that for you?” She immediately relaxed, smiled, and a tiny nod said all I needed to know. Then her eyes shut. After that, she slipped into a coma and was soon gone. And when she was gone, I spent a couple of days calling each of her children, her grandchildren, and her great-grand children and telling every one of them, “Gran’ma Susie said to tell you she loves you.” It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing I’ve ever done, but it was one of the most rewarding. And educational.)

But to come back to the present… here Gran’ma is, and there Megan is. Alike as two peas, but in different pods — or the same pod, strung out over time. Or something. Are they the same person or not? Is there linearity here or not? I just don’t know.

The Crone Goddess steps back and somehow reaches around all three of us, pulling us into a tight hug — so tight that we all melted together for a timeless time. It was indescribable.

Then we separated again and looked at each other for one of those forever moments. And Megan and Gran’ma both faded away. The Crone, whose eyes were both Gran’ma’s and Megan’s eyes, asked. “Did you understand that?”

“With my heart, perhaps, but not with my head!”

She nodded and said, “That’s all that’s needed. But here is a picture for you to play with.” An image blossomed in my mind — tiny mushrooms in a faery ring. For a moment I was puzzled. I’ve been learning about fungi recently and they are truly fascinating. What we see above the ground are not individuals. Under the earth, they connect with each other, sharing their roots and underground structure in one much larger being. The things we see are just the fruit of that being, deeply rooted in their living self. Although the mushrooms we see are separate in appearance, in reality there is just one, and we do not see much of it at all.

That larger underground being does vital things to support the life of trees and other plants. The network of the mycelium, the living body of the fungus underground, is really just beginning to be scientifically studied and faintly understood. Scientists have ideas about how mycelium helps the trees, may even be a communication network between them, how it makes the soil fertile and nourishing for all plants — and how it does some other quite magical-sounding things. And did you know, that there is more biomass (living material) under the surface of the earth than there is on top of it? Much more! I didn’t, and am still stunned by that.

However, to come back to what happened in my lunar cycling meditation, this explains a lot about the relationship between Gran’ma and Megan, and yes, even me, without me being able to quite articulate it. I had been thinking of us as being something like pearls on a string with other beads or gems between us. But…

…from the online Urban Dictionary: chronosynclastic infundibulum ~ n. A point in space where, upon a person entering it, that person’s existence in space-time ceases to be linear, becoming discrete. This means that a person that has entered a chronosynclastic infundibulum exists at multiple points and lines in space-time. For example, such a person could exist at all points in time in one place and also appear at another point for five minutes.

And Verbotomy.com says: ~n. A place, or a moment, where all the different kinds of truths fit together, and where there are many different ways to be absolutely right about everything.

It has been so many years since I read the book — it seems that perhaps chronosyclastic infundibulum was both of those things and more, just as the ideas of reincarnation and dharma heirs and mycelium are all true of this and all other relationships, but not even the three together tell the whole story.

What if we are all chronosynclastically infundibulated all the time, and only our indecision (or something) keeps us from realizing it? What if all this is related to the ideas on non-local consciousness and natural magic? (This may be too much thinking for a Libra…)

Footprints in the Sand

The sole of the matter.

I’ve been thinking that this blog has been rather serious lately and I’d like to put something more faery frivolous in it, and this at least starts out that way.

I dreamed that I went to a town meeting. There were a couple of thousand people there. It was being held on the machair, a broad sandy beach with tufts of tough but richly nourishing grass on it. The tide was out, and between the low and high tide marks, the beach was very stony and harsh, unlike the firm sand of the machair higher up. The sea was restless. I was wearing my sandals with flowers on the soles, leaving lovely footprints in the sand, and was walking backward to watch the footprints. They made me feel blithe and whimsical. And happy.

A very old, large, ruined stone building stood on a dune nearby. It was scheduled to be demolished, although most of us wanted it to be restored instead — restored or rebuilt somehow. People were volunteering to help in various ways and offering to work on the building or to help reuse bits from it, saving the best parts. As they considered these things, some small groups sang or danced, some sat in circles, holding hands, while others wandered around looking thoughtful.

Somehow, I accidentally became responsible for all the wine racks from the building (house? castle? stronghold?). The racks were beautifully made of aged black walnut, and there were enough of them to fully furnish all the wine cellars of all the castles in Germany and have enough left over to fill the cellars of the Vatican and every monastic order in Italy. There were probably even more racks than that. Beautiful, strong wood for making furniture and — O, and wouldn’t it be lovely for making doll houses and faery houses and birdhouses? There seemed to be acres of the racks — they stretched as far as I could see.

There was a large, bulbous man who seemed to think he was in charge, though no one I knew seemed to know or like him or to care for his disapproval of all the suggestions offered. He demanded, “Young lady, what are you going to do with those wine racks?” There was a world or two of condescension in that “young lady” — he was many years younger than I. And somehow, I didn’t think he would appreciate the idea of doll and faery houses.

It was irresistible. I became very fluttery. “O, sir! I’m going to carve tiny figures out of them. You know — little humans and animals and other extinct creatures!”

“You cannot possibly use all that wood for that!” He actually stomped his foot in temper. Suddenly he became a judge, wearing robes and seated in one of those high, lectern things that judges use, towering over us all.

“O,” I waved my hands airily, “Do you think not? Then I’ll just have to find other people who’d like to do the same thing. I’m sure there are very many who would enjoy it, and then I’d only need to bring those people” (I gestured toward the imaginary crowd with one hand) “together with these wine racks,” (gesturing toward the racks with the other hand) “and poof! Problem solved! Voila!” I clapped my hands together happily.

“Young lady! You are not making this easy for me!” He pounded his gavel so hard he damaged the beautiful wood of his desktop.

I thought about this and his sarcasm and condescension in calling me “young lady” yet again, and smiled at him as if I were the small Shirley Temple showing off my dimples. I don’t have dimples and am of an elderly persuasion, and then said slowly, “Nooooooo… but I could if I wanted to. You just haven’t given me any reason to want to.”

His entire shiny head turned a brilliant scarlet, like a Christmas ornament, and he began to swell up, bobbing upward in his chair. It would make a terrible mess if he exploded.

So I woke up. And then I laughed and laughed.

There are lots of ways to think about dreams. They can be ways in which the unconscious (or subconscious) mind can tap into that non-local consciousness. Or they can be so simple as a chance to view everything in the dream as a part of yourself. Viewing yourself this way gives an opportunity look at the disparate parts, considering the symbolism, the interactions, the conflicts and resolutions, the ways in which the central “I” of the dream is being helped or harmed — or transformed.

For example, buildings in dreams may sometimes represent the body of the dreamer. Here the ruined building could be my body and the state of my health (which concerns me) or it could be my ‘body of work’ — the various (and often scattered) things that I’ve done, which I’m trying to organize and clarify so I can best work out what is important to focus on now. I suspect that it is both of these things, and in the dream we see this ruin that is maybe, perhaps, conceivably, feasibly, imaginably repairable. Or for all one knows, it might just be trash and scraps, some of which might be salvageable. In either case, body or body of work, it will take the cooperation of many aspects of myself to do anything worthwhile with the current mess. (I’m actually working on both things — O, and a third — trying to create order in my home, in my body, and in my work, but I’m not being very orderly about it. Being disorderly about creating order seems like a contradiction in terms.)

Many parts of myself seem easily distracted, but good-natured, while others seem cooperative and willing to help if only some agreement can be reached. One part, the bossy judge, seems only interested putting down the ideas of others. He offers no constructive suggestions and gets angry with the ideas offered. He wants to be in control and can always (or almost always) find a reason to disapprove of any action. One way of dealing with him is to make fun of him, but… that doesn’t seems to be working well and he is about to explode and make a big mess. This is a recognizable part of me, an internalization of a lesson learned wrongly, but early, that things must be kept under tight control, that action is not safe, that I can’t trust myself or my intuition to make plans and decisions, so I just create more muddle. I thought I’d long since overcome that attitude, and I know that it is not true, but obviously a trouble-making part of me still thinks it is — and I need to find a much better way to deal with it, hopefully a final cure.

I draw a Faeries’ Oracle card to represent the judge and get the Bodacious Bodach, a perfect fit — interfering, bossy, wrong-headed, but meaning to be helpful. I’m wondering what I can do to give him a way to actually be helpful. Perhaps that part of me might like to make lists and put thoughts into categories where they can be looked at in a more orderly way. Lists, plans, and maps can be very comforting, but are a bit boring to make. This suggests that the tediousness of it might well be worthwhile.

Later on, I pull a Medicine Card, asking what I can best do to help the judge be more comfortable. Grandmother Spider, sitting in the center of her own web, tells me that I need not only to be centered about my work, but also about all the other aspects of my life. I need to understand how they all relate to each other: gardening, house, meditation, writing and art, health, and everything. How do these different things cooperate and how do they conflict or get in the way of each other? I may need to draw a lot of Venn diagrams before I understand this.

I’ve no idea what the wine racks represent. Ideas and/or possessions that could best be repurposed (perhaps radically so) now? They are well-crafted, but not useful in their present form. The beautiful raw materials I have for making and writing?

“Footprints in the Sand” — why did I intuitively choose that for the title to this? Is that a part of the solution or of the question? Do I, in my heart, feel that none of it matters and it will all soon be washed away by wind and storm and tide? And where did the thought about “humans and animals and other extinct creatures” come from? I can guess — and have already decided that the only sensible way to live is to act as if there will be a tomorrow while focusing on the value of today. With courage and compassion, and, yes, hope.

What to do? What to do? What to do?


Foundations of the Universe, Part II. The Mystic, the Witch, and Weird Things that Happen

This is what the mystics say (and it makes sense to me):

There is an experience many humans have had called the mystical experience. It cannot be described but only experienced. If you can describe it, that ain’t it. In a clumsy attempt to talk about it, people say things like “All Is One” and “Love Is All There Is.” But it remains indescribable, ineffable, inexpressible. A dictionary defines “mystical” as meaning “having a divine meaning that transcends human understanding”, which isn’t really much of a definition at all. The interesting thing is that, while we cannot apprehend it intellectually, humans can experience it as a feeling perception.

Almost every culture and most religions have a name for the mystical experience, and there are records of people experiencing it from early recorded times to the present. Some talk of it as emptiness, some as fullness, the void or the god-who-cannot-be-named (and that doesn’t fit into a book). The Hindus, as I understand it, have the concept of an indescribable and infinite Presence in the universe, and they regard all of humanity’s gods and goddesses as faces (or facets) of that infinite being. The faces exist so that we humans may more easily relate to the god-being, but they are just small aspect-faces of something infinitely more vast and unknowable by our conscious minds.

What if god/dess is in a stranger’s smile? What if god/dess is in your hand when you touch a sorrowing friend? What if god/dess is in the blue bell — bell, leaf, stem, and root? What if god/dess — the real thing — isn’t an old man with a flowing beard or a curvy woman with fabulous hair or a hairy creature with horns? But… what if god/dess is them as well? What if god/dess has no location in space, no one moment in time, no limits or boundaries? Are you big enough to be yourself and god/dess? To allow everyone and everything to be itself and god/dess? What if all of O Universe is just… faces of god/dess, the unknowable?

We humans try for control and find it very difficult to accept that we really don’t have a lot of control in this universe. Largely, the universe goes on with or without our approval, and the most we usually manage is a modicum of self-control in the present moment. As I write these words, I’m very aware that my own life is, at this moment, insufficiently trusting of the process — and that the trust needed isn’t about people or control but simply in the ability of O Universe to unroll the future properly, whether it suits my fancy or not. I’ve been getting lessons about this, and now I need to apply them. (And I wouldn’t have recognized any of that if I hadn’t been trying to explain all this — I thank you for being present so that I was moved to write this “for you”!)

So. What if our radiant, rainbowed, soap-bubble Universe is self-aware? If you do a search on “non-local consciousness” or “nonlocal consciousness” or “non local consciousness” (different sets of results!), a plethora of astonishing things comes up, ranging from modern more-or-less scientific thinking to the most ancient mystics and magicians — and in non-local consciousness there is room for it all. People who have had a full-blown mystical experience of infinite Oneness don’t feel a need to believe in it. It’s there, like the sun rising in the morning everyday. People who haven’t experienced it tend to range from denial to disbelief to “don’t know” to belief without full understanding.

Unfortunately, the experience strikes like lightning, wherever and whenever it will, sometimes triggered by a small or large event but as often as not just out of the wild blue. Fortunately, again like lightning, it strikes where there is the least resistance. So it’s about surrender — and you cannot force surrender. But meditation can help openness. Letting go of adamant opinions and self-imposed rules can help us to let go into just being present. Trust in the process is what it is all about. This is not easy — which may be why more people don’t have the experience.

All I can personally add to this is that the mystical experience feels (to me) a lot like love, but love without limits, bounds, or conditions, without pain or sorrow or transient happiness, without subject or object. It has no I-thou, not even an I but it only and infinitely IS. You can see that trying to explain it by describing what it is not is not very satisfactory either. And yet no one knows any more if I say, “It is an ultimate experience of empathy with the Universe, wrapt in unconditional, unbounded love.” In fact, I’m not satisfied with that definition either. It is both more and different from that. It’s a feeling, and you have to feel it to know. Indescribable.

Okay, most of what I wanted to say was about the mystic’s perception of the universe, which fits so well with the concept of non-local consciousness, but I do want to add a bit about mediums, channels, witches, magicians, tarot readers, healers, and others of that ilk. These things all work, to varying degrees (which depend on things we don’t understand very well at all). Weird stuff happens. It happens often, and whether you call it co-incidence or synchronicity or serendipity or something else, it has probably happened to you. In recent times most scientists have been in total denial about these happenings. There are always a few, even in the Western World, who have begun to catch up. The process is well on the way, and in the next blog here, we’ll talk about the awakening of the scientific mind. It should be fun.

There will be two more of my bletherings on this non-local consciousness subject after this — I hope. I thought it was just one, but another has turned up:
III. The Physicist, the Neurologist, and the Argument
IV. The Storytelling Universe.

Photo © Copyright 2013 by Tara Larsen Chang. All rights reserved.
Text © Copyright 2013 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.

Foundations of the Universe, Part I: The Faery Version

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about nonlocal consciousness and how it ties in with the Faery version of the creation of the Universe, with what mystics and various magical people (like healers and psychics and all those) experience, and some considerations about consciousness as propounded by neurologists and psychologists. But, as I wrote, it got too long for a blog, so I’m going to give it to you in three parts over the next few days.

This is what the faeries say (not me, this is all their knackerty knotion):

In the beginning there were uncountable bits of faery consciousness floating, undifferentiated, through Space/Time. In fact, that consciousness is what Space/Time is. Just that. Nothing else.

When Time began gathering momentum in it’s spin (because it was conscious and consciousness moves) the bits of faery consciousness began swirling around faster. Bits and bytes bumped into each other. They bounced off each other. Sometimes they came together so gently that they rested against each other and stayed together. O Universe became like a 33+ dimension billiard table with infinitesimal balls of faery consciousness bouncing, rolling, hurtling through Space and Time. Knowing the fae, I’d guess they were all making a sound like, “WHEEEEE!” Lumps of consciousness formed, and the bigger the lumps became, the more consciousness they had.

One of the things that consciousness does is to spontaneously generate concepts and ideas — this is its natural function. Its other natural functions are to store and to play with those concepts. At first, they were fairly simple: bits of consciousness gathered into elementary particles. Humans have named some of them things like quarks (up, down, bottom, top, strange, and charm), leptons (electron, electron neutrino, muon, muon neutrino, tau, tau neutrino), bosons (the photon of electromagnetism, the three W and Z bosons of the weak force, and the eight gluons of the strong force) and others. Many more are hypothesized by humans, including the fabled graviton and, of course, all the realm of antiparticles and dark matter. The ones that human have named correctly so far are Strange, Charm, and Tau, who are all kindly folk.

(It is a natural principle that knowing the proper names of things gives one a certain power over them — not much, but some — so it behooves humans to get better at discovering the real and proper names as quickly as they can.)

From the elementary particles came the ideas of composite particles, and suitable weddings were arranged, forming the composite particles and the elegant atoms, and then — the great triumph of the scintillating dance of molecules! Fast and faster, more conscious concepts were generated — and in a stroke of genius, the transcendent idea of Fire — of expansion, of radiation, of light. Then the newly conceived particles, atoms, and molecules discovered how to dawdle slowly enough to be gases, to become slower still and be liquids, and even to become so ponderous as to be solids. And all of this happened in the sea of faery consciousness for far longer than consciousness had expected.

Balls of fiery faery consciousness grew into stars, which lived and died, leaving behind the idea of ash — dust. The dust gathered to become stone, and stone gathered to become large masses, which gathered the lighter dust like hydrogen and oxygen, nitrogen and other things, from heavy to light, from least radiant to most luminous. There seems to be no end to the possibilities — and all of it is one consciousness, dancing at many levels of awareness — loving, holy, erotic, passionate, and reverential. That is what the fae tell me, and they seem quite pleased about it all — mostly.

(Next in this series is The Foundations of the Universe, II: The Mystic, the Medium, and Weird Things that Happen)

Photo © Copyright 2005 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.
Text © Copyright 2013 by Jessica Macbeth. All rights reserved.

Pouring Forth Sacredness into the World

Someone asked me what I mean when I talk about living in sacredness or the sacredness of life or opening ourselves to sacredness—or best of all, to pour forth sacredness into our lives and this was my response:

One way to think of sacredness is our awareness of that still hypothetical nonlocal consciousness—which I’m working on writing about for a web page. Nonlocal consciousness is also called subtle energy and has many names in different cultures and religions: chi, ki, prana, the holy ghost, and many others are all versions or derivatives of this concept. We each have our own individual way of recognizing or perceiving or denying it. What comes to my mind when I let myself relax into that perception are feelings of openness, of endlessness, of … well… love.

I don’t know if you meditate, but that is something that greatly facilitates being open to that energy because we need a calm mind, open and relaxed rather then tense and self-protective.

As far as pouring sacredness forth, I know this is going to sound simplistic, but the truth is that it is simple. One way to do this is to visualize a source of that energy in some way, It can be god/dess or the glory of the stars in some of the photographs we see or any other image that suits your view of the universe. Alternatively, if visualization doesn’t work for you, remembering and connecting with the feeling of receiving love works even better.

Some people find that, in the beginning, music that evokes that kind of connected feeling can sometimes be helpful—just letting the feeling of the music flow through you, relaxing into it. The feeling of being blessed by anything is part of the same thing as well. Once you connect with the feeling, think of that feeling/energy flowing through you to your heart, and then flowing to your voice, your hands, whatever part of you is acting upon the world.

You could be talking to a friend, cooking a meal, carving a sculpture, singing, cleaning house, doing your work, making love, opening a door and holding it for the person ahead of or behind you. Most people find it easiest in the beginning to practice this when they are sitting quietly alone and can just focus on the feeling of the energy flowing through. Then they can begin extending that into their daily lives. With enough practice, it becomes like breathing—a part of life.

And that’s really all there is to it. Practice improves the perception of the energy, the sense of it flowing through you, and the strength with which it affects the world around you.

Thank you for asking—it’s a question I like trying to answer. If anyone has further questions about this, I’d be pleased to try to discuss them. It’s good for me to think about this, even though I don’t have any definitive answers—just experiences and knackerty knotions and occasionally some creative ideas.