We got the announcement this week at work – the one where the manager nervously calls everyone into his office and gulps before launching into a rehearsed spiel about the layoffs being made in other groups as we speak (QA virtually wiped out) and about how now the consultants are turning their attention to our group for “reorg” and consolidation — and there WILL be “job impacts” among us in the next 30 days.

No numbers at this time.  Might as well be a number and names drawn from a hat because that’s how firmly based in reality these decisions are.  That’s how much the people making them know.

We co-workers looked at each other in silence.  Although we have been through round after round of company layoffs over the last few years, this was the first time our small group heard the announcement directed at us in particular.  Up until now, the impact on us has been friends lost and crazier working conditions because key people in sister groups were let go and their work was outsourced to offshore vendors who have no clue about our products and customers.

Now it is our turn on the block.

We have been working together for years now.  The core group of us has been together in one capacity or another for over ten years.  We have been through a lot of changes in the company and seen many CEOs and top executives come and go.  This one now – the one who brought in the current crew of consultants to radically “reorg” us yet again – he has been with the company for a few months.  He has very little understanding of the actual business.  He specializes in coming into a company, ‘shaking things up’ and leaving.  He specializes in not dealing with consequences.

He is a former jock and has the blithe unblinking confidence of a dolt.  He sends us a lot of email communiqués using acronyms we never heard of to describe our organization.  He has the facilities guys busy putting up posters and distributing desk drops with slogans and goals that are hard to decipher because of all the unfamiliar acronyms.  He expects us to attend forced social events involving football jerseys and fake beer.  This while the work piles up on our desks because they’ve already laid off too many people for there to be time to spare.

The current CEO was brought in after the previous CEO was let go.  The old one was let go by the next bigger CEO in our company’s convoluted global structure, which is like a contraption Dr. Seuss might have dreamed up in a nightmare.  There is at least one other CEO above the bigger CEO’s head, not counting any of the sideways CEOs and assorted bigwigs with “dotted line” authority over us.

The old local CEO was smarter than this one, but he was meaner.  He liked to summon us randomly by personal invitation to attend lunch with him in small groups.  You were not allowed to decline and woe to those who showed late.  At these lunches, after staring us down for a while to stir up anxiety, he would pontificate about his grand plan for the company, quiz us on matters we did not have access to and then tell us testily that if we wanted to keep our jobs we had better jump to attention and take ownership.

Not literally, of course.  Just work AS IF we had ownership.  AS IF we were making millions like him.

He lasted a little over a year.  He had his own crazy acronyms, posters and desk drops.  All went into the dumpster when the new guy came.

So we – long-time co-workers and in most cases friends – looked at each other in silence while our manager nervously delivered this speech.  There was a curl of a smirk on more than one of our faces.

Not because we don’t need our paychecks and medical coverage.  We do.  Not because we feel invulnerable to the axe.  We don’t.  Just because of the sheer absurdity of our company, the global economy and the leaders of all of the above.

The day had started out with a thought-provoking weekly horoscope from Risa D’Angeles at Night Light News.  She is a fellow Pisces and her esoteric horoscopes are uncanny.  The last line of the current one is quoted at the start of this post.  I was mulling it over at my desk while I worked that morning.

It has taken years to come to this place?

I didn’t feel I was any place yet.  I was feeling more or less like I always feel – like I am trying to get to that place.

So, yes, my personality was resisting.

All my life I’ve longed to do meaningful creative work that serves humanity, in alignment with what I feel within.  This desire has translated into me on a perpetual quest to earn my Right Livelihood.  For a number of reasons too complicated to go into here, what I have done instead is back myself into the corner of a crappy job in a crappy company, so that most of my time is engaged in empty work that is beneath my abilities.

Meanwhile, the contradictions in the world are coming to a head, and we seem to be arriving at a crossroads.  The hour seems to call for heroic works to realize the Brotherhood of Man – not soulless busy work to enrich The Man.

This contradiction has been bothering me for a long time.  But as the morning wore on, I was thinking that I’ve had it backwards by focusing on my outer work as a precondition to my inner peace.

Maybe the most heroic thing any of us can do is to take up the reins of our lives wherever we are now and set out to master ourselves from the inside out – without feeling ground down by external conditions, without feeling like we’re on an amusement park ride that is not amusing.  Maybe the most heroic thing we can do is to go within, face the darkness and redeem it.  If enough of us do it, we redeem the world.

I can’t say I’m not afraid of losing my job within the next few weeks, but I can see it’s time to face this monster head on.

*      *       *

P.S. I have haven’t been posting because I am studying and, to a lesser degree, working on a novel, but for what it’s worth, I do want to clean up this blog and make it a place for emerging thoughts.  Just not exactly sure of the shape of it yet…I hope to get rolling soon.

If anyone reading this is also facing a layoff or is already out of a job, I wish you the strength and vision you need to face this crisis and turn it into an opportunity to become more true to who you are.

Namaste

7/3/10 UPDATE: After tiptoeing through the month of June, we were told there’s been a delay and now we won’t hear until “mid July” by one account, “after the holiday” by another. We all wish they would just get it over with. If they lay me off, I will use it as an opportunity…part of me hopes they do.

The teenaged daughter of a good friend was texting her way through a hike in the woods and literally walked off a cliff.  Thankfully, she tumbled less than twenty feet down to the next ledge.  It would have been around seventy feet more if she had gone all the way over.  As it was, she survived without major injury.

All this noise around us – our lives are built on distraction – just at a time when the contradictions in the world are coming to a head.  Perhaps a time when attention is more important than ever before. 

The wheels have come off the global economy.  Our news is all hype.  Our culture is in a freefall of decay, catering to lowest common denominators and worst impulses.  A storm looms ahead, and we seem to be barreling straight into it, too busy with all our multitasking, twittering and frittering to look up from our various handheld devices – metaphorical and literal – and step mindfully.

Honestly, I can’t take the noise for granted because it is overwhelming to me.  I can easily lose myself in it and float rudderlessly out to sea.

So in the midst of the din, I find myself returning, after years of exile, to memories from early childhood.  They are my most vivid memories – before the trauma, before the socialization, before the build up of desensitizing sludge. 

I perceived small things with such clarity back then.  The crackling of ice-cloaked walnut trees swaying in a biting wind.  Crocuses poking through the snow in the rock garden outside the kitchen door around my birthday.  The fragrant bed of long soft needles under the bows in the enchanted pine grove beyond the fields.  The velvet brown ooze of the river bottom, with minnows darting from my feet.  The orange glow of the late afternoon sun flooding the kitchen before dinner.

I find myself returning to these memories for their innocence.  Their delicate focus and understated beauty.  Their quiet perfection.  No noise to spoil them.  No worries or impending deadlines to take them away.

They are perfect imprints. 

I am trying to reconnect with the mindset that created them.  That mindset opens a quiet, clear space within.

Attention is one of our most important faculties.  We forfeit our creative power when our attention is diluted or handed over to external sources in exchange for shallow entertainment.  We need to stop being restless adolescents forever in search of diversion.  We need to take up this powerful faculty and direct it with conscious intent. 

Namaste

The conscious mind reasons, worries, rationalizes and speculates.  It fears and desires.  The subconscious, on the other hand, is connected to something deeper than ego and personality.  It might actually have a clue.  I don’t think my subconscious was speaking up about coming earth changes in these dreams.  I see something else at work. 

Here are some thoughts on the three dreams, in reverse order:

Third Dream

I had this dream right before the Fourth of July.  I had been reading about North Korea’s plan to fire test missiles in Hawaii’s direction on America’s ‘big day.’  Clearly this dream picked up and dramatized those conscious concerns.  The beach = Hawaii.  A tailgating atmosphere and mindless cheering = Fourth of July.  The unacknowledged shadow crossing us = the crisis of global capitalism while the mainstream is still looking for signs of “recovery.”  

To me the most interesting detail is looking in the mirror and seeing another person as my reflection.  You could say that I saw myself as an Asian woman as a loose connection to the North Korean situation.  Maybe that’s all there is to it.  But as far as I can remember, this is a new phenomenon in my dreams – looking into a mirror and seeing someone else – a stranger – looking back at me and matching my every move. 

Another interesting detail is having too many bags.  The bags are attachments.  They slow me down and make me less nimble in a crisis, represented by the fiery wound in the sky.

Second Dream

A pale blue mountain turns molten red.  A volcano eruption, right?  Maybe, but I see that dream mountain as standing for something other than an actual mountain.   As I mentioned in Book of Tokens, I have been meditating upon the Tarot Keys every day.  The craggy mountain is right out of the Tarot. 

Free associating, I connect Atlantis with lost civilizations and thus with lost wisdom and ultimately with ancient Ageless Wisdom.  Therefore, “Atlantis rising in a surprising location” represents attaining higher consciousness within the mundane world.  So then it is not surprising I painted a long ridge leading up a craggy mountain.  The long ridge is the Path and the mountain is the Great Work.

First Dream

This dream is the least rooted in my conscious mind.  I can’t say that I’ve ever dreamed of beetles before or thought much about them, metaphorically or literally. They have not been a meaningful part of my experience or symbolic vocabulary to this point.  But they are indeed most important in ancient Egyptian iconography.  In that system, they are associated with resurrection or rebirth. 

And since colors are emphasized in these dreams, I will take it a step further: blue is related to Memory in the Tarot.  Memory beyond the boundaries of the current personality.  In my dream, however, the blue beetle has something in its eyes, like a spider web.  It is trying to wipe it away, presumably so it could see   So I wonder — maybe the blue beetle represents Memory of lives beyond this one – Memory that for me is currently obscured by the veil across my eyes.   I sort of helped shoo the veil from the beetle’s eyes, just like I sort of want to Remember.  But when the beetle came at me blinking, I screamed. 

Ultimately, Memory is blocked by my own fear of seeing.

Dreamt I was in a kitchen with a giant cobalt blue beetle.  It was the size of a small dog.  It had something stuck in its eyes or across its face that it was trying to pull away with its front legs.  Suddenly it flew straight up in the air and swan dove backward, crashing onto the floor, where it quickly resumed its efforts to clear its eyes. 

It seemed frustrated, so I blew in its direction.  That seemed to help.  It stopped rubbing its face and looked at me, glossy black eyes blinking.  They were not insect eyes.  They looked like the eyes of a dog or maybe even a person.  There was a creepy intelligence in them. 

The beetle started scuttling at me.  I got scared and screamed, breaking up the dream.

Second Night

Dreamt I was in a classroom where the assignment was to paint a picture illustrating something or other, I forget what but something very mundane.  Instead of illustrating what I was supposed to illustrate, I was painting a picture of (get this) Atlantis rising in a surprising location.  I forget the location now, but wherever it was, it was the equivalent of Bayonne or Staten Island — someplace completely un-exotic and thoroughly paved over.

So I was trying to paint Atlantis rising, but I ended up painting an icy blue mountain with a long ridge sweeping down to the foreground of the picture.  Or more appropriately, you could say a long ridge sweeping up to a craggy snow-topped peak in the distance.

It was a painting composed entirely of pale blue and white.  But when the paint dried, the icy blue turned molten red.   My snow-topped mountain became a mountain of fire.

Third Night

Dreamt my husband and I were away for an extended family gathering.  It was morning and we were getting dressed in an unfamiliar room amid too many bags.  I looked in the mirror to do my hair and was surprised to see that I had dark brown hair with fat ringlet curls.  I couldn’t remember how my hair got this way.  Nevertheless, I went back to getting dressed.

I looked in the mirror again to put on mascara and saw a young Asian woman looking back at me.  At first I thought she was someone else, but she matched my every move as I applied mascara.  She was my reflection. 

Then we all went out on the beach where crowds of people were celebrating.  Everyone was hooting and cheering like it was the World Series and the ocean was the playing field. 

But gradually I realized that a shadow was crossing us, and then the day turned as night.  At first no one around me seemed to notice, so I started pointing it out.  Hey, why is it dark as night at noon?!

Others were indeed noticing it, but most were still hooting in celebration.  I looked at the sky.  It was roiling with black clouds, black like smoke, with a fiery red wound in the middle.  Then hail came raining down on us.  We were trying to gather our (too many) bags and race to the car when the dream evaporated.

 “What are you looking for?”

 It was not so much an offer of help.  More like a curt request: Tell me what you want.

I didn’t know what to say.  Honestly, I was there to browse.  I was a seeker just starting to seek – and I was embarrassed about it, especially with my Marxist boyfriend standing there.  But I had been experimenting with the Tarot for around two years by then.  I had a Rider-Waite deck, a pop interpretation book, a feminist explication book and a desire to learn more.  So I told her I was looking for a book on the Tarot.  She disappeared without a word.  Relieved that she was gone, I went back to browsing while trying to explain myself (quietly) to my inner materialist critic, whom I was projecting outward on my Marxist boyfriend.  I was ambivalence in action.

Suddenly she appeared again looking severe as before.  She didn’t say anything – she just held out a little book.  I took it from her and she hurried off.  I was at a loss.  I wanted to explore and pick out something on my own.  I didn’t want her help to begin with.  And looking over the little book, I could see right away that it was something I would not have selected.  It was strange.  It seemed she had brought it out of the back room where it had been absorbing incense smoke for years, judging from its heavy scent.  I thought about ditching it on the shelves I was browsing – I had my eye on another book – something bigger and glossy, but then I saw the glossy book from her perspective and knew it was cheesy.  I suspected that Wednesday Adams was issuing me a challenge to move beyond fluff in my seeking.

So I bought the strange little Tarot book.  I took it home with me and tried to find my way in.  The heavy scent intrigued me.  But no, it just wasn’t what I wanted.  There wasn’t any direct instruction.  It consisted mainly of short poems and illustrations of cards that were slightly different from the ones I was used to.   There was Biblical-sounding verse and “O Israel” exhortations.  It seemed way too much like prayer and religion for me, half-Marxist that I was. 

I stopped experimenting with the cards and put the strange little book aside.  But I did not get rid of it.  It survived numerous painful book purges when I moved from apartment to apartment and eventually to my own house. 

The book was The Book of Tokens, by Paul Foster Case.  In more recent years, it came in handy when I was reading essays that referred Major Arcana images as they appear in the BOTA deck.  It wasn’t until last year that I read Paul Foster Case’s more directly instructional The Tarot: A Key to the Wisdom of the Ages and finally understood the point of the strange little book I’ve had sitting on my shelf for the last fifteen years.

Of course, the Tarot cannot be explicated in mere prose.  The cards are to be meditated upon for their symbolism speaks fluently to the subconscious mind.  And through the subconscious they can help bring us into conscious communication with superconsciousness. 

So after all those years of sitting mostly unused on my shelf, the strange little book is now picked up and pored over every day.  I was taking it for granted that it was always there waiting for me until I was ready.  Lately, though, I’ve been musing on the odd way it ‘fell into my hands.’  Why did Wednesday Adams thrust this particular book on me?  If she was bent on directing me to something by Paul Foster Case, why not hand me the more accessible A Key to the Wisdom of the Ages? 

Whatever her reason, I appreciate the result.  So thank you, dear Wednesday.  The metaphysical shop in Belleville is long gone, but its incense-laden scent lingers in the pages of my strange little Tarot book.

Previously, I wrote that the 44 and the 111 mark the doorway to a period of great change.  I definitely don’t mean that President Obama and the 111th Congress are agents of the change.  Instead, I think that the 44 and the 111 may be coordinates in time and space. 

I recently came across a suggestive item to add to the 44/111 synchronicity collection.  I’ve been watching seismic activity around volcanoes since the Tonga 7.9 earthquake and volcanic eruption.  I was looking into a minor earthquake around Yellowstone when I realized – the Yellowstone caldera is located roughly at 44°N 111°W.  

To have one of the world’s largest supervolcanoes sitting so close to those precise coordinates seems a bit portentous right about now.  But the last thing we need is to get sucked into fearful doomsday thinking.  We are living in a hot spot in history.  Bubbling under the surface is the potential for profound transformation, as well as profound destruction.  What we do matters.  Change does not have to be catastrophe.

Speaking of avoiding catastrophe, a prominent 44 turns up in the new Lexus RX commercial “Intersection.”  A car and an 18-wheeler come to the point of head on collision at a dark intersection, but time screeches to a halt just before impact.  Four guardian figures emerge from the darkness and pull the car and the truck backward through time.   One of the guardians turns the car driver’s head just enough so that he’ll see what’s approaching at the intersection.  A 44 appears on his windshield while the narrator speaks of “illuminat[ing] places you couldn’t see before.”  Time resumes forward motion and the driver swerves in time to avoid the truck and proceed safely on his way.

Unlike the Lexus driver, we will NOT be able to proceed on course after a brush with calamity.  Collectively, our present course IS disastrous — not just right now but going back several hundred years leading up to this point.  It will only get worse.  No swerving will get it safely back on track.  No illuminations or shining saviors will redeem it.  Our salvation will come from letting it go and making a new way founded on honest right relations — with ourselves, with each other, with other species, with the planet. 

Namaste

Christopher Knowles connects these earthquakes with the equally unusual rash of UFO sightings in Morris County last month.  Indeed, there were more sightings around here last night, on the eve of the latest earthquake.  Very interesting.  I need to start braving the cold to keep an eye on the night skies.  

Meanwhile, I’ve been looking at the earthquakes from a more geomantic standpoint.  What is the earth saying, I ask myself.  I saw meaning in the timing of the first two earthquakes (explored here and in connection with the 2006 Mount Desert Island earthquakes here), but this latest quake didn’t suggest anything to me at first.  Then I remembered the conversation I had with my husband before going to bed last night.

Since late last summer, we’ve been talking on and off about digging up the whole lawn and growing vegetables.  We’ve been talking about it in a noncommittal way, as in it would be a good idea but it would sure bother our neighbors.  Last night, however, we talked about it very seriously.   Of course, during World War II these things were called “victory gardens.”  People were encouraged to do it to reduce the stress on the war-time food supply.

Now take a look at where the USGS positions the latest earthquake, and while you’re at it, the first earthquake, too.   In case you don’t feel like clicking, I will tell you: VICTORY GARDENS.

Could the earth be giving us a hint?

Maybe I’m reaching, but a planting a victory garden does seem like a good, constructive thing to do.

Namaste

According to the USGS, this latest quake occurred at 22:22:22 UTC.   There they are again – those numbers with repeating digits.  They speak a language to those who will listen.  Granted, the actual words are muffled by the veil.  All I can make out is a murmur.  Nevertheless, they say pay attention. 

Indeed, the timing of both earthquakes is suggestive.  Imbolc comes from the old Irish i mbolg  meaning ‘in the belly.’  Now overrun by groundhogs, the day still represents the hopeful quickening of spring within the womb of winter.   

Obviously Valentine’s Day is associated with the heart, but long before the holiday was named for a Christian saint (any one of three), it was the ancient Roman purification/fertility festival Lupercalia.  After sacrificing a goat and a dog, being smeared with blood and then wiped clean with milk, two young men ran around Rome playfully lashing people along the way with strips of hide from the sacrificed goat.  Women came forward and lined up hoping to be struck, for the light lashing was supposed to impart fertility and an easy delivery.

And I think that’s what we should hope for now – an easy delivery.  The old order is crumbling and a new world needs to be born.  Will we come forward and be constructive midwives to this birth, or will we cling to structures that are on a downward spiral?  We can still choose now, but at some point down the road, there may be no choice.

 Now, a 3.0 earthquake is nothing in the scheme of things, and indeed there were no damages.  But this is Morris County NJ and a significant earthquake here is sort of like a snowfall in Florida.  It does happen but it’s not common and people tend to make a big deal about it.  I personally have never experienced it before.

I’ve been keeping an eye on earthquake activity in the world, especially since my trip to Bar Harbor this past September when I was surprised to learn that there had been an earthquake there in 2006.  We have taken several vacations in Bar Harbor during the Autumnal Equinox.  On such a trip in 2004, at the top of Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park, I had what I believe was a spontaneous heart chakra opening.  Our trip this Equinox was our first time back since then.  This time we found the East Face Champlain trail closed and a notice saying it was damaged in an earthquake in 2006.

Significant earthquakes in Maine are about like earthquakes in New Jersey.  They do happen but they’re not common.

As I wrote in Right Place Revisited, the land at Acadia National Park felt different to me this September, even before I knew about the earthquake.  The energy was still there, but something seemed off and metaphors for upheaval abounded.  I did a little googling upon my return and learned that it wasn’t just one earthquake but a series of earthquakes that shook the park in 2006.  The first occurred on the Autumnal Equinox.  If we had taken a vacation that year, chances are we would have been there for it.

All of the quakes were minor.  The first was 3.4 and over the next 11 days there were some aftershocks, a 2.5 and a 3.9 (summarized by USGS here).  There was a pause and then one more on December 20th.  Apparently, the damages occurred in the 3.9 quake.  (A NPS slideshow showing some damages to the trails and Park Loop Road can be found here.)

Anyway, Acadia was as beautiful as ever this September, and we had a great time.  Still I came back with a nagging feeling.  It was like the 2004 experience had been the grand banquet at the Grail Castle, and this fall was waking up the morning after and finding the guests gone and the Castle empty.  I felt like Parzival — had I failed to ask the question?

Vague ideas about this have been itching at the back of my mind.  Last night’s earthquake, centered practically on my front lawn, prodded me into writing about it.  To what end, I don’t know, but somehow these events seem meaningful to me.  And as Acadia’s earthquakes opened on the Autumnal Equinox, last night’s earthquake here at home coincided with Imbolc.  This, too, seems meaningful and appropriate.  Something is ‘in the belly.’  

Being sick was good in a way because it forced me to be still. I had to jettison my big list of things to do — I was taking my last 2008 vacation days so I was off and had overambitious ideas about how I’d use the time. As it turned out, I was couch-ridden and mostly I just read.

When I’m sick like that, the world becomes smaller and quieter. In a way, it’s easier to think.

As events and energies have ratcheted upward, I’ve become more self-conscious about writing here. I am conscious of how little I know, how I lack the language to express the wispy half-understandings that occupy my mind, how I may sound naïve to some, crazy to others and how some of my dreams and visions could conceivably contribute to the eschatological panic out there.

I am a Seeker, and while I am climbing toward the light, I spend a lot of time stumbling in the darkness. I share interior thoughts of my journey here, without the wisdom of hindsight, because I was instructed to “tell the tale and live it” in a dream. Somehow, I sense, that it is these awkward early steps on the Path that need sharing. And I shouldn’t go back and edit or delete as my understanding grows. I must let it stand in its own integrity.

In fact, maybe I should be more open than I’ve been.

My experience over the past several years has been a gradual honing in and sharpening of focus. I had something of a breakthrough over the summer, described in Unlocking the Gate. But then I lost some clarity and wandered a bit. Now I am back on the inner threshold of the gate, surveying the lands before me. Where there was a confounding maze, I am seeing a coherent set of paths.

I feel the need to commit to a formal path, in concert with others. I’ve moved in this direction before, and each time, foundational aspects of my life have seized up behind me, demanding my urgent attention, or so I thought. On past occasions, I have withdrawn to focus on them, and then it has taken a long while to wander back. That may be happening again now – I feel some tremors – but this time I will not relent. I will move forward on the Path, come what may.

So the earnest desire goes forth in search of the Master, as it has not far to seek. If the student is worthy he will presently be rewarded either by the inner knowledge that he has achieved this mental contact, or he will find that “chance” has placed him in touch with a source of occult information and training, and his conscious work has commenced. The gate is open, it is for him to tread the Path.

– Dion Fortune, The Training & Work of an Initiate

More to come.

Namaste.

Meanwhile, 44th birthdays approach for the people who were born during the peak years of what astrologer Eric Francis described as the rare “Sixties grand opposition.”  This was the conjunction between Uranus and Pluto in Virgo, with Saturn and then undiscovered Chiron opposing from Pisces.  Peak years were 1965 and 1966, but Francis says the ripples of influence span from 1959 to 1973. 

In his three-part essay “Born in the Sixties,” Francis defines the powerful outer planet energies brought to a head in that grand opposition – they were the very energies firing the social and political movements of the time.  So the grand opposition had an obvious immediate effect in shaping that turbulent era, but it also shaped the natal charts of those born during it, mainly vanguard Gen-Xers.

So far, this latter effect has been mostly latent, I think, because many natives are having trouble with lower octave expressions of the potent energies involved.  Waylaid by FEAR (Saturn) and shadow projection (Pluto), distracted by our woundedness (Chiron) and technological toys (Uranus), this generation has yet to come into its own.  But maybe turning 44 in this period, with its new alignments, will be a turning point.

Meanwhile, what goes around comes around in the grand dance.  Uranus (freedom, revolution, sudden change) and Saturn (limits, structure, inertia) are opposing each other again, but this time their locations are reversed on the Virgo-Pisces axis.  And now Pluto (transformation) enters Capricorn (social structures) for a new era-defining transit.  

I am no expert, but these patterns are coming together in a way that seems portentous.  The stage is set.  The players are taking their positions.  Our social, political and economic structures are poised for a period of profound transformation.  Some will say hold onto your hats and fasten your seatbelts.  I am in the other camp – the one that is trying to let go of the shore.

Namaste

P.S. – Too bad USA cancelled The 4,400.

P.P.S. – Still one off.