Old consciousness, new consciousness. One dying, on its way out, clinging for dear life. The other being born, striving to thrive, in need of constant nurturing.
Birth itself is messy; I’ve seen the videos. For us humans, birthing the new consciousness is also messy but in a decidedly different way. There are no videos because it’s all happening inside of us — in our heads and in our hearts. Or, actually, on the ten-lane internal superhighway that connects the two. If yours is anything like mine, it’s strewn with emotional flotsam and jetsam, ditches and detours, interesting and awful side adventures, unexpected tolls, epic traffic jams and dangerous potholes.
It’s like we’ve grown up in the neighborhood of our heads/the old consciousness/3-D and have been considering a move. We are drawn to that shining city on a hill also known as our hearts/the new consciousness/5-D. Nice neighborhood! All that compassion, flow, and ease. All those authentically happy multi-cultural, multi-generational people living in integrity and peace. Everyone is healthy, the city government is trusted and respected, and schools are dynamic hubs of innovation. What’s not to like?
It’s so very close and so very far and not nearly as easy as it looks. We are repeatedly subjected to the inertia of the old neighborhood, rife as it is with judgment, guilt, and fear; with hard work, materialism, and resistance to say nothing of profound feelings of inadequacy. Then it’s back to the new! That connection to our hearts, that new feeling of alignment. Then we’re yanked back again by the familiarity of the old: families, jobs, the devil we know. We want to give up but then awaken again to the quiet, persistent invitation to 5-D. Back and forth, up and down. It’s exhausting.
Meanwhile, as all of that goes on inside us, we are still living our human experiences on the planet with, yes, all the other humans. They can see us and we can see them.
Then we decide for sure. We’re moving! But it’s not a regular move, it’s gradual. We will have homes in both places for a while. We keep wanting, trying to take our old things to the new neighborhood but we are continually rebuffed. Sorry, no fear here. No judgment, no lies, no crazy exes. You know the deal. After a while we notice that the once-fraught superhighway is a little less treacherous. It takes a little less time to travel back and forth. Then thwack! We’re at a screeching halt. Again.
Meanwhile, as all of that goes on inside us, we are still living our human experiences on the planet with, yes, all the other humans. They can see us and we can see them. Humanity itself is doing what we’re doing even if not all humans are exactly on board. It’s confusing, I know. That’s why I find it useful these days to imagine that I’m in one of my favorite places: a baseball stadium. (Citi Field. Let’s go Mets. I digress.)
The stadium exemplifies what we’re talking about. My season ticket seat — good for all games and special events like impeachments — is pretty much as far away from home plate as one can be. Far right field, uppermost section, last row, last seat in the row, nobody to my right, nobody behind me. Sky everywhere. (OK, not technically bleachers, but sounds better than nosebleeds. Work with me here.) This is my 5-D perch and I occupied it every day of Impeachment 2. I don’t flout it, but I also have special dispensation to drop in to the dugout whenever I want to — and I do. It’s fantastic to have 3-D access as well.
It’s all so palpable in and around the dugout. The thicket of energy is dense, intense, and quite varied. Last week on the field truth, hope, and love mixed with passion, integrity, and authenticity — on “my team” anyway, according to me. Also according to me was lots of anger, cynicism, and what felt like hate mixed with dishonesty, duplicity, and denial — on “the other team.” Old, new. In and around the dugout I can get riled up and tussle with others. I will tweet from there that defense attorneys should fuck off. I can have a blast in the dugout, too. And I can feel exasperated there and lose sight of the bigger picture.
Always, I return to my 5-D seat in the stadium’s hinterlands. Ahh. From this remove I choose to view it all as pure entertainment. Performance art. Humanity is changing its consciousness, for crying out loud, and there’s never been a show like it. I am transfixed by the performances of characters like van der Veen, Cruz and Castor who play their roles as embodiers of the old consciousness to sheer perfection. Fight! Deny! Lie! They are so good. Popcorn here! Beer here! (They actually bring it to you. Like in heaven?) I am transfixed by the performances of characters like Raskin, Plaskett, and Neguse who, in concert with their colleagues, play their roles as embodiers of the new consciousness with aplomb. Selfless! Illuminating! Compassionate! They are so good. Yes! More popcorn here.
I rooted hard for my team, was impressed by my team, and my team didn’t win. Down in the dugout I’d be red-faced, reactive and frustrated beyond measure. From up here, though, I have compassion for my country. I see it striving, like me, more and more every day, to live up to its ideals. From up here it’s easy to see that relics of the old consciousness like fear, distrust, cynicism, denial, supremacy and the rest are actually dying off, losing steam. From up here it’s easy to see light and love pouring in. From up here it’s easy to trust that it’s all unfolding precisely as it should. From up here I see America’s ten-lane, head-heart superhighway getting some long-overdue infrastructure love. (#SecretaryPete!) If mine can clean up as much as it has, if yours can clean up as much as it has, then it will surely follow that America’s will clean up as well. Up and down the heart-head highway we all go. Back and forth from the dugout to the bleachers we all go. Each at our own pace. Easier and easier as time goes on.
(Also from up here, I can see our new-consciousness farm team and, well, wow.)
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