Wednesday, May 5, 2010

The Murder of the Gulf and the Death of the World

1. A Knife in the Planet's Jugular

The blood of the Earth is gushing into the Gulf of Mexico, one of the world's largest deposits draining as fast as it can through one of the biggest holes we're capable of drilling. This is like the Titanic of oil 'spills', much worse than the Exxon Valdez because at least a supertanker only spills once. This wound is pumping out a supertanker every four days or so and it just keeps coming. It's a fair bet that with the amount that's already spewed out, the Gulf of Mexico is already dead. The Caribbean might not be such a hot vacation spot this year, either. I've heard some people speculate that this might completely wreck every ocean on the planet, and given the state they're in - what with the islands of plastic in both the Pacific and Atlantic, the blooming dead zones, the decimation of fish stocks due to overfishing, fertilizer runoff, and heavy metal toxicity - given all that, who knows? Maybe they're right, and this one event will be enough to push the oceans over the edge and if the oceans go down so does everything else. It'll be the end of the Permian or the end of the Cretaceous all over again, and maybe the biosphere will bounce back but it could take a few tens of millions of years and if anything 'intelligent' manages to evolve again it will have no idea we ever existed ... the thin layer of the Anthropocene will have been erased by the compression of geologic time, and all that will be apparent to the avian scientists of the future will be that the mammalian age came to an abrupt end for reasons no doubt controversial.

Coincidentally enough, right around the same time the Deepwater Horizon blew up a water main broke in Boston, rendering the city water supply unsafe to drink. This was a trifling problem in comparison, and in the end inconvenienced the poor people of Boston for only 72 hours as the pipe was repaired in record time (ordinarily it would have taken weeks, apparently.) The concern for some bacteria was almost touching in its childlike earnestness, given that Boston's water is almost undoubtedly contaminated with the same admixture of drugs - both the legal drugs and the good ones - that have accumulated in every other water supply in the Western world, as well no doubt as some measure of heavy metals and of course, everyone's favorite ingestible tooth-balm, fluoride. Whether the decision of nearby Concord, Massachusetts to ban bottled water had anything to do with the fortuitously timed water supply scare remains a matter of speculation.

However disparate in magnitude, the temporal coincidence of these two incidents, both revolving as they do around sudden mechanical failure and massive pollution of the water, are what Jung might have termed a synchronicity. I'm sure others out there have noted it. Such things are said to be messages from ourselves, to ourselves, interpolated back in time through the medium of the cosmos. It's interesting to speculate along the lines of what, exactly, the message is meant to convey, and certainly there's a lot that could be said about water and our relationship with it but I'll leave that for you to think about (as these synchronous messages are meant personally, for all of us) and move on to some other interesting coincidences such as Gold in Sacks apparently shorting not everything Gulf of Mexico (as originally claimed), but TransOcean's stock (the company that owned the Deepwater Horizon) mere days before the event.

Along similar lines it seems Halliburton bought the company that got the contract to complete a crucial step in the drilling process or something just a couple of weeks before the malfunction. I understand there's lots of money for America's signature disaster capitalism corporation in the capping and the cleanup, as well, which is good I suppose as the rent on office space in Dubai is just outrageous I hear. I'd be tempted to congratulate them on their good fortune but as we all know (or are at any rate endlessly told by those with fortunes) a successful man makes his own luck and you know, when companies like Helliburton and Gold in Sacks get lucky like that real close to one big motherfucker of a disaster well, I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

2. Demon Kings and the iZombie Horde

And you will, of course, right or wrong, in accordance or not with all of the observations or, should we say, the more pertinent ones. I have none to share at the moment as relates the Deepwater Horizon incident specifically, nor I think does it much matter. Even if there were a smoking gun somewhere, some proof of deliberate sabotage - and this is highly unlikely, given the ease with which the Deep Horizon could have been sabotaged as it prepared to cap the well and disengage - it would be visible only to those who can bring themselves to entertain the notion that humanity might produce the sort of monster who could do such a thing without blinking. And not just one of them, oh no: a whole horde of demons masquerading as people could be the only possible explanation for an act so foul as to murder an ocean.

That's a scary thing to contemplate, an army of demons, and really it's much easier to just switch the channel on your big screen plasma TV, settle back into your comfy pleather couch in your echoing McMansion and zone out for a bit before you have to get in the car the next day and drive somewhere crowded so you can stumble around amongst the other bloated iZombies. It's been fun but for how much longer is anyone's guess. Say, do you own that car, that home, that couch, that big plasma TV? You do? Congratulations! You're in a very tiny minority.

I'm betting you're leveraged to the hilt to afford this lifestyle. Most everyone is and no shame there, so's the whole country, damn near every country is it's true but yours (if you're an American iZombie) more than any other. You want to look at it geopolitically, America just ran a scam whereby financial institutions like Gold in Sacks auctioned off your garbage paper to the rest of the world in exchange for vast quantities of their stuff and labor, which they credulously gave thinking they were getting rich. Now the fairy gold has turned into sand and they are pissed, although for now they're keeping their seething displeasure as quiet as they can under the theory that it is best to move cautiously when the object of your disapproval has thousands upon thousands of nukes, and that's just for starters.

Of course once GlobalPop cottons on that their temperance hasn't stopped the Hexagram's Pentagon from unleashing a Foursquare Armageddon of Famine, Pestilence, War and Death, well, I don't think they'll hold their tempers much longer from that point on because they will have nothing to lose.

Even as the real economy is in flames, the Pentagon's unholy war machine grows on, unchecked, and even picks up steam. It's keeping the world's anger in check, for now, but it's starting to run out of fuel: the iZombie lifestyle that makes humans so usefully docile also makes them useless for military service, by and large. The military-industrial complex has sucked the heart and soul of America dry so it could demon-strate demonocracy all over the world, or at least in the shittiest parts of it, parts that might have a 'democracy' now, sure, but sure as shit in an open sewer don't have clean drinking water or sometimes running water for that matter, even where they used to.

You'd hope the Yanks would've been smart enough to spend all the wealth they looted from the world on something useful: infrastructure, for instance. But no. Like every other conqueror drunk on their own indomitable success, everything they didn't spend on military hardware they pissed away on a bunch of big useless homes and a plethora of baubles. The baubles will mostly be broken in a couple of years, by which time you'll be too broke to afford replacements, and as for the homes? Hah! You never even really owned them anyways, remember?

It's a good joke, really, though generally people don't laugh much when they get it. Here's the punchline: you (the collective 'you' of the Western world) unleashed your demons upon the world and gave them your blessing to do what needed to be done to keep you well-fed and entertained. They kept their end of the bargain and in the meantime did what demons do, that is to say, murdered, tortured, subverted, seduced, raped, pillaged, and defiled everything in their path. Now those demons have come home to roost, they're turning their beady little eyes upon you and you can almost see their nictitating membranes flickering in excitement as they imagine what they'll soon be able to do with and to you for fun and profit.

3. Unplugging From the Simulation, Awakening into the Dream

Personally I think it's time to unplug. Take out those earbuds, turn off that TV, put down that cell phone, walk away from the screen and re-engage with the world as it is, rather than as it's projected at us (I'm a hypocrite in this as in many other things (when in Rome, after all) so don't beat yourself up over it.) I know we all have our own little subjective views on the world but you can at least care that there is an objective world, a world that we all share and ultimately, are, and while I understand how comforting it is to populate your particular subjective window primarily with colorful entertainment it is time, my friend, to wake the fuck up.

I could say that's because the world's about to eat you but that would be playing off your fear and also, it's probably not going to happen. Not just yet. Who knows? Maybe it can be averted. I suspect enough people regaining possession of their faculties might be able to accomplish that because in the final analysis there is no force so powerful as the finer human faculties. The likelihood that the timestream can be steered around the various oncoming catastrophes is raised considerably for those who harness those faculties, individually, and en masse? Could be quite the trump card.

But really, it's not fear that should motivate us to re-engage with the world. Fear is what has made us disengage from it: separating ourselves from nature as much as possible, going so far in the end as to almost wholly isolate our minds from any direct and unmediated contact with reality itself.

What should motivate you is love. Love for everything that's been, everything that is, everything that is yet to be. The world ends every moment, only to be recreated again, as the whirling vortices of energy and charge called matter oscillate in and out of existence. Each step in time is unique unto itself, and eternal in its way, for it inhabits the only moment of time that is real, the now, and now always is. Every moment is logically dependent on the moment preceding, though the outcome can never be predicted and it is this uncertainty - the knowledge that what happens next is influenced by what we do now, but with wild cards thrown in - that leads to the possibility of a creative influence in events.

4. The Improbable Taste of a Strawberry

Things can happen in a more or less deterministic fashion or not. Kick a rock off a cliff and it will fall to it's smashed doom, but kick a man and maybe he'll manage to grab a branch or a ledge on the way over or down. It's not likely but the possibility remains open, as is shown so often in the final crisis/confrontation scene of so many heroic action movies. Of course a rock can't choose to kick another rock over a cliff, or a human either, but a human can and therein lies the nub of the whole free will, good-and-evil thing that has afflicted our species since its inception.

You can look at the whole development of our species as the ascent of a mountain, an ever-higher peak of improbability as our knowledge, technology, population and resource base have grown to what just a few generations ago would have seemed epic proportions; taking the long view, our species has been engaged in a sweeping epic stretching back into the dim, forgotten epochs of prehistory. So far back as we can look, we see that the narrative is festooned with a wide variety of recurrent themes and dramas, acted out by recurrent historical types or archetypes manifesting in the personalities and behaviour of individual human beings. This is the basic folk wisdom which has been used for prophecy for millenia, embodied in oracles such as tarot or the various astrologies.

The set of archetypal human dramas and personalities is what lends history its self-similar, fractal structure. Self-similarity is likely a property of time itself, expressing itself as it does not just in human history but in the memory of the animal kingdom from whence it came, itself a product of the chemical memory of cells and the photonic memory of matter itself. At all scales, a set of archetypal behaviours and types present themselves, each progressively simplified from the last until ultimately we come to the fundamental on/off oscillatory heartbeat of exists/doesn't exist which underlies the continual happening of every subatomic particle in non/existence. That dichotomy flavors everything that flows out of it, like yin and yang; it expresses itself in new ways at every point in the chain and if you're looking for how some people were able to predict the End of the World with startling accuracy, well there's the mechanism.

And now here we stand, at the top of Mount Improbable or so it seems, and just as some of us are starting to suspect that 'there is more in Heaven and Earth, Horatio....', and that the skies are nothing like the limit, we've been collectively drop-kicked off the edge by an unseen assailant in the dark. Many still think we just tripped and fell (assuming they were sober enough to notice), and just how many will manage to grab on to something on the way over or down? Even if it's just long enough to pick a single strawberry? That's still up in the air. Where there's life there's hope and you're alive yet, aren't you?

I won't lie, it doesn't look good, but remember which mountain peak we're on. Anything can happen up here ... and most of it probably will.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Implicate Astrology

"As long as you still experience the stars as something "above you", you lack the eye of knowledge."

- Friedrich Nietzsche

Have you ever looked up at the stars, so impossibly distant and mysterious, and wondered what it all has to do with you? If anything? If you're of a scientific or, at any rate, materialist bent - and I certainly have been, off and on, for a good fraction of my life, so: no one's judging - then outside of the idea that we're all ultimately made from star-dust (and that connection, tenuous as it is, is only to long-dead stars, gone supernovae billions of years before the Earth formed, let alone you) your answer will no doubt be, "Not a whole hell of a lot." The stars are a long way away, after all: so far that these inconceivably huge, blazing cosmic furnaces are reduced to infinitesimal pinpricks of light. Their gravitational force is far too weak to affect us; their magnetic fields, likewise. Aside from sharing our universe with us, and decorating our night skies, the stars have nothing to do with us.

That's the consensus, and until recently, I would have agreed with it without reservation. The alternative, the notion that there might be some connection between the stars and us, strikes the modern mind as a curious superstition; that so many persist in a belief in a astrology strikes the scientifically educated as one of those regrettable and incomprehensible atavisms ... much like the belief in God, spirits, angels, chakras, what have you. There is, they say, no scientific support for such notions; and so, in rationalist circles, it is impermissible to broach the subject unless one's intent is to make fun of it.

And yet ... here's the thing. When you take a closer look at science, at the real bleeding edge of it, the truly scientific mind - open and unclouded by dogma - starts to see something quite different.

Since the 1950s physics has been grappling with quantum non-locality, the so-called Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox, which Einstein referred to as 'spooky action at a distance'. Amusingly, EPR began as an effort to discredit quantum mechanics: Einstein and his collaborators had hoped to point out a reductio-ad-absurdum in quantum theory, by showing that the equations implied that two particles (electrons, say, or photons), once 'entangled' or connected by means of their wavefunctions, would mutually affect one another over arbitrary distances: a measurement of one would instantly determine the state of the other, seemingly violating the speed-of-light limit on the transfer of information.

A more careful analysis later revealed that general relativity and its iron-clad speed of light remained safe: no information could be transmitted through this mechanism. Nevertheless quantum non-locality itself remained very much a fact, as has been verified time and again in the laboratory. This has led some to speculate that, given that all particles must have been co-located at the time of the Big Bang, all particles may in fact be mutually entangled with one another, sharing a sort of 'universal wave function'.

There are now many variations on this idea. David Bohm, a physicist who ran so close to the bleeding edge he went right off it (in the view of many of his colleagues) postulated what he called the 'implicate order': that the universe might in fact be analagous to a hologram, with each element within it in a sense containing the whole. This idea has been expanded on by others, with some physicists even suggesting that the universe of space and time that we (seem to) inhabit isn't just like a hologram, it is a hologram, projected inwards from the boundaries of the cosmos: just as a holographic image is a 3-dimensional illusion encoded into every segment of a 2-dimensional photographic plate, so the universe is a 4-dimensional illusion encoded into a a 3-dimensional surface. Interestingly, there are observational consequences to this idea: a year ago, those predictions were borne out at a gravitational wave observatory in Germany. If this discovery turns out to be genuine - and I expect it will - those involved will most certainly win the Nobel Prize, while the rest of us (and science especially) will have to turn our conception of reality inside out.

Of course, science moves very slowly: it will likely take years for the results of this experiment to be verified, and years more for it to be accepted. As a scientist I would have it no other way; as a mystic, I could care less.

Now, in my day-job - when I'm not moonlighting here at Moon Food - I am a scientist, or at least a scientist-in-training. My field is astrophysics, stellar astronomy in particular; in fact at this very moment I am sitting in the control room of a hulking beast of a telescope, a scientific instrument the size of a bus with a giant mirror polished to a precision that staggers the mind, an impressive and expensive piece of engineering meant for measuring the spectra of giant stars. As an astrophysicist I find it endlessly puzzling that although we have known of quantum non-locality for over half a century, our discipline has failed entirely to assimilate this idea. But then, to truly tease out the implications of the implicate order would obligate them to admit that, these past several hundred years, they might have been very wrong indeed and ... how embarrassing would that be?

Several months ago, at the beginning of my astrophysical career, I came across a very interesting and quite scholarly volume: Cosmos and Psyche, by Richard Tarnas of the Integral Institute. Anyone who's ever had their sense of reality, mind, and self exploded by Ken Wilbur will recognize the Integral Institute; for me, that affiliation alone was enough for me to give Tarnas' book a second look. In it, he lays out the reasoning and methodology behind astrology in a very logical fashion, examining the last several hundred years of history through the lens of the transpersonal planets Uranus, Neptune and Pluto (while touching also on Jupiter and Saturn, the more slow-moving - and thus more easily analyzed - of the personal planets.)

It was a fascinating and compelling read, but the scientist in me felt the need to put the theory to the test. "If there's anything to this," I said, "Then I will have Neptune in prominent aspect." Tarnas compared Neptune to Orpheus: it is the planet of dreamers and poets, of high ideals and head-in-the-clouds illusions, of mystical dissolution of the ego in the sea of consciousness and dissipation of the spirit at the bottom of a bottle of spirits. All of these have been powerful forces in my life; ergo, I reasoned, Neptune should be somewhere in my chart.

And so I asked my bemused mother the time of my birth, calculated my natal chart and, lo and behold, there was Neptune: in almost perfect conjunction with the Sun (go to the bottom of this page, where my chart is on display for all to see, and you can verify this for yourself.) The hair practically stood up on the back of my neck.

I was convinced.

Not that I'd ever admit that to my colleagues, of course. They'd think I'd lost it! And maybe I have but ... over the past several months and especially with the help of the fantastic text Astrologik by Antero Alli I've given the subject a deeper study, at the expense (I freely admit) of my formal studies and I have yet to be disappointed. Analyzing not just my own natal chart, but those of friends and family members, has consistently revealed an endless series of correspondences between the messages written in the sky at the time of birth and the personalities I know them (and myself) to have.

As a postscript, not so long ago I was adding some of the asteroids to my natal chart, and discovered that Eros - goddess of eroticism - was also in perfect conjunct with Neptune and the Sun. This made sense: I've always been a very good lover, practically by instinct (for no other reason than that selfish loving strikes me as not just rude but dull). Mere days after discovering this, on a whim I googled 'quantum astrology' for the very first time, wondering if others had made the same connections between Bohm, the implicate order, and astrology, and was led directly to the website of the fascinating and beautiful Kim Falconer: martial artist, mystic, fantasy author, and astrologer. Her speciality? None other than Eros.

I don't know where this new doorway into synchronicity will ultimately lead. To enlightenment? To madness? One thing is for sure, however: my conception of the world has been radically expanded, yet again, and if scientists scoff?

A fig for their narrow ideology. This is fun!

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Stacking up the Pieces

So it's just edged past the witching hour and for a variety of reasons I've slept little these past few days. Around 10:00 or so, after a day busier with the cognitive busy-work of academia than I've been in a while I finally had a chance, in my bleary, bug-eyed state to check up on the headlines at which point, of course, I saw that some crazy retard had just flown a small plane into an IRS building in Texas.

Only a couple of people were killed in the resulting fire, out of the 200 or so who were inside at the time, which good fortune we can attribute perhaps to the building somehow failing to fall despite the aerial impact event. You may argue that a Piper Dakota is no 747 but neither is a little IRS office block the World Trade Center. Physics is physics, people: if a big plane can take down a big building, a small plane can cause the collapse of a small building. QED.

But hallelujah we're beyond the realm of physics and dealing with miracles here. Emergency services were there in minutes, preceded only by a fully tricked out hazmat unit that was fortuitously there in advance, having deployed to the city the previous night and, with even greater luck, just happened to be setting up - oh for an exercise no doubt - right near the IRS building the very morning of the event. It's nice when things just sort of work out like that, don't you think? When all the pieces are in place.

Oh, and did you hear yet (I'm sure you did) that the pilot was a disgruntled software engineer who - having been tossed aside by Corporate America and facing the prospect of his financial carcass being picked over by their government - apparently went off the deep end of Tea Party-dom, posting a suicide note cum rambling anti-government rant that (I'm sure) will be full of conspiracy theories. Those conspiracy theorists, I tell ya: dangerous lunatics they are. No telling what they might do and some of them might, just might be terrorists. Right?


And that's scary, isn't it? I mean it's one thing if it's just a buncha sand-niggers and we can bring the fight to their heathen haji asses over in their medieval moonscape countries but ... white Americans turning to terrorism against their own kind? Why that might lead to open martial law by the by. Only way to keep things together in such a situation is to bring the fight to them, you know, and this time that'll mean bringing the fight right to your doorstep.

And this will justify and maybe even encourage just a bit more of that nonsense. You can almost hear the law-goblins skittering around in the great machinery of our legal code, getting ready to set the cyclopean gears grinding that will result in Firewall America. All sorts of petty, silly new restrictions will be put in place as a result of this: the police state will clamp down a little more tightly, the propaganda will get yet more shrill, and for now the majority of the population will shrug and figure it's all for their own safety. Like frogs who think that nice man's turning up the temperature in the pot because he's concerned about their comfort.

Well, my reaction to this isn't so much one of fear. I'm certainly not terrified of the Tea Party-errorists nor (as one of the erstwhile conspiracy nuts who gets lumped in with them by the lumpen proles and those in 'control') am I particularly frightened of a clamp-down on my civil liberties. I long ago decided that no matter what laws they pass, I do not have liberty. Liberty is what you're allowed to have. No, I am free simply because I am me and they aren't, more or less. Everyone else is just as free for the same reason, but figuring that out, that's the trick. I wish people would and ... I think they will.

No, what I'm getting off this right now is more annoyance (for whatever small hassle I will no doubt indirectly incur along the way as a result actions justified by this), as well as amusement: that those who did it believe they will get away with it.

They pulled this stunt in Austin, Texas. Let's pause over that: they had the colossal hubris and gall to try and put something like this over on a city with more tinfoil hat-cases than probably any other part of U.S. (except maybe the Texas back-country). What most people think is, "Yeah, Texans are crazy retards," but no, this isn't going to be like that. Think about it: I bet you the Texas police, emergency services, government, not to mention the general population, they're so shot through with exposure movement sympathizers that not a single step in this drama was taken, that was not observed. Such people keep their eyes open, they keep notes, and they keep in touch. This small army of swarming info-warriors will collate their numerous observations on the blogs and the forums of the Free Internet, they will throw a blinding spotlight on this story, and whatever the shape of the truth that takes form in that light it will devastate the plans of those who planned this.

This is going to be fast and brutal, but not in the way it was meant to be. Brace yourselves. And remember "First they ignore you, then they mock you, then they fight you, then you win."

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Haiti: You Did This

Oh, those poor Haitians, so unfortunate, their city destroyed, tens or hundreds of thousands dead and now the survivors are dying one by one from injuries, thirst and starvation ... or by the hands of their maddened machete-wielding countrymen, desperate to stave off that fate for themselves. Road blocks made of dead bodies, constructed, we're told, by enraged Haitians protesting the lack of aid are littering the streets, which doesn't make sense except in the sick sort of way in which everything Haitian must be understood. About the only doctors on the scene are either from Cuba or sans frontiers, but never fear for the US military has already secured the airport and a carrier group is en route.

I bet you feel so, so sorry for those poor blighted bastards down on that smashed cesspool of an island. Yeah, I'm sure you do, and you can take your self-righteous preening pity and swallow it like the poison it is. Truth is this is your fault. This happened because you let it happen. I don't care whether your name is John D. Rockefeller or Joe S. Shmoe, I don't care if your name is spelled with Chinese characters or printed in CAPITA DIMINUTIA MAXIMA on your birth certificate, I don't care who precisely it is that you are: this is your fault.

It is all our fault, but don't let that distract you from the very personal and immediate responsibility that you have for it. Sure, some are more responsible than others: the reason Haiti's an open sore on the planet is that it suits certain, ah, international entities that it remain so. The cheap labor is a nice bonus but I think it's a fair guess that the main thing is to have a nice, hollow, corrupt failed state as a way-point for the drug trade. If keeping things that way has meant enforcing the most desperate of conditions on an entire country full of people, well I guess that serves them right for making that voodoo pact with the devil way back when in exchange for helping them cast of the chains of the blancos and their bloodthirsty God. Can't let those heathen niggers get ideas, understand: an example must be made, pour encourager les autres.

Ever wonder why it is that Liberia's so fucked up? But I digress.

So, sure, some have been more responsible than others, but even if you were never on a UN peacekeeping mission in Port au Prince, never worked for the CIA or the IMF, or never even bought a Haitian baseball sewn in a sweatshop by a scrawny slum-rat whose dead-at-30 peasant father moved to the slum looking for non-existent work because he couldn't survive by farming anymore, even if you are completely clean on all these levels you still turned a blind eye. Don't be coy, now. You could have made more of an issue over the way Haiti was being systematically raped by the global order but, hey, it's a tough world and it's just one, small country, right?
Just a few people, and they're black, and besides, look at the Dominican: they're fine and it's the same island, so it's gotta be the Haitian's own fault for being a bunch of savages, after all.

Yeah, you thought it. Admit it. I did, many times over the years. It's the sum of such thoughts, over many moments, over many people, that enables the sordid behaviour of those who claim to act for us (and if we do not stop them, they do act for us) to continue all the way to its inevitable denoument: a land sucked dry by vampires where the daybreakers bring catastrophe with the dawn.

So that's how we got here. The question that now confronts us is where do we go from here?

You know the script the Obamanoids will unleash: the same one used in Katrina. Private disaster relief firms will descend on Port au Prince like vultures. The survivors will be warehoused in toxic, controlled pens, with the streets patrolled by foreign mercenaries enforcing curfews and no-go zones while the US military and the UN hover nearby, ready to cruise missile any objections that get too organized. Of course the country's broke, so to pay for all this their shell of a government will be armlocked into selling off what's left of its country's soul in perpetuity. In practice this means the people will be put to work as slaves rebuilding their island not for themselves but for corporations, and this time the slave collars (now made of silicon rather than iron) will never. Ever. Come off.

This is all symbolism, see. Haiti was the first slave country to free itself; its brutal history since then has corresponded to the fact that while slavery per se might have ended, the oppression of the colored races never really did. The planned (and you know it's planned) re-enslavement of Haiti by the disaster capitalists will similarly symbolize the re-enslavement of the whole rest of the planet. More disasters, natural and not, are sure to come this year, perhaps in staggering quantities. Each one of these emergencies will present an opportunity to reconfigure the local order into the New World Order and ... I'm sure you know where that ends.

Well, that's the script.

It's not what's going to happen. I'll get to that.

I imagine things are well in hand. I mean 'imagine' literally, in the sense of 'this is what I'm creating within my holographic reality projector'. For the past few days, ever since Haiti got Acted by God, I've been putting Haiti into my meditations: seeing the people, the land, reaching out to them with my soul and becoming them, becoming all of them, feeling their hearts as they chose to cooperate and help one another rather than turn on one another like wolves, to face the fear the world has thrown at them with courage and clarity rather than cowardice. Last night I called down a loa for a chat, offering it some sex magick in exchange for its help in helping the people who now call on its kind with a fevered desperation they haven't projected since perhaps they summoned the strength to fight off the French. This time, I asked it, help them for free. If you must have payment take it from us. From me.

So, I've been visualizing Haiti's recovery. I expect a lot of other people have been doing the same thing; I expect, in fact, that
as I write these words, all over the world there are thousands of people doing exactly that. If there's any truth to the notion of intention having an appreciable effect on outcomes within unfolding reality, well, this is all to the good. For all the stumbling and shame I have a feeling the aftermath of this will turn out a whole lot better than now looks possible.

Yes, well, nice thoughts are all very good but they'll do no good at all without actual action.

Here is how it is going to go down.

Soon, probably within a couple of weeks, there's going to begin a Haitian diaspora. The fact is Port of Prince was marginally inhabitable as it was: now, it's a death trap. Rebuilding will take generations, and in the meantime there is absolutely nothing left for those people but rubble. They have to get out.

I don't much want to wait for our governments to volunteer to take in a massive influx of shell-shocked, unskilled, uneducated immigrants from a deeply troubled culture whose idea of religion strikes the more conventionally minded as a particularly queasy form of black magic ... just doesn't seem the sort of thing the Harperites here in Canada are likely to latch onto. This means that, much in the way my grandparents sponsored Vietnamese boat people into the country back in the seventies, there has to be a volunteer immigration sponsorship movement of some kind.

Yeah, those boat people lived in their floating hell for years, though. We don't have years. We don't even have weeks, although weeks is what it will take. We have to get on top of this thing now.

It's not enough just to send nice thoughts, any more than it's enough this time to send money. We have to let them into our countries, all over the world, because their country isn't there any more.

And we will. I've seen it.

It won't be nearly enough to make up for what we've done. It never is. History can't be atoned for: it can only be acknowledged, learned from and moved past, into the past where it belongs, so that we can point the Now at a better When. One where, maybe, we don't let countries like Haiti happen.