Along with the pope’s litmus test, and no he did not pass, he did canonize slave-holder and murderer Junipero Serra yesterday at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception, which by the way, is on the campus of Catholic University, which I attended as an undergraduate in philosophy. Underneath that enormous edifice is a basement cafeteria, inside which perhaps the most fateful decision of my life was made in November 1962: to not see either one of the men who were sitting at the table with my friends, both pursuing me (one having hitchhiked down from Yale that very day), but to instead spend the evening alone — where I discovered that I was a coward who could not bear to strike out on her own in life.
So, sitting there at my little porcelain kitchen table on the evening of that same fateful day, I decided to flip a coin. The “winner” would be the man I would marry. And yes, I did marry that man — and for that “reason”! — and then, the other man too, for a short while, twelve years later.
One year later, that same Cathedral was where the entire CUA student body gathered, in shock. John F. Kennedy had just been assasinated. It was my senior year in school; I was married, and pregnant, the first pregnant undergraduate coed in the history of Catholic University. (A second young woman got pregnant during school a year later, and she was kicked out. In pioneering adventures, it helps to be the very first. They don’t know what to do with you, don’t yet have their policies in place.)
Over 50 years have passed between that fateful decision of my life made using the laws of chance and now. Over fifty years of utilizing my own mind in ways both productive and not. Sometimes I wish I could put myself into my own personal New World Order, just so my still squirrley self will learn to obey, and be more predictable. I can feel for the pope and all the other honchos who view us squirming humans as needing to be corralled.
But, as Alan Watts says, “nature is wiggly.”
Barbara Marciniak laid out the events of September with the pope, back in June. (Sorry, saw that video on FB and now can’t find it again.) Simon Parkes is also spelling it out.
Okay, so all of these world-shaking events of this week (as I write this, the pope is about to address a joint session of congress) are going to have to take a back seat to my own jaw-aching event. It’s the perfect way for Mars, now moving to exact square with Saturn in fiery Sagittarius, to manifest in me. Why me? Well, I have my natal Mars right where Saturn is now, along with Uranus exactly opposite it. So zowee! My jaw begins to ache. Teeth and bone issues (Saturn). Obvious inflammation, infection (Mars). I could feel it as a sort of subliminal awareness for the past few days, and like an idiot, tried to ignore it. Then, as yesterday wore on, I realized the pain was becoming too insistent to ignore. So I went online and bought some nascent iodine, which one of my readers, Babette, recommended. Then, like an idiot again, I didn’t say send immediately, but chose to let it take a week to get here!
Well, I didn’t know I was an idiot until 1:30 A.M., when I woke up to a throbbing jaw. Grabbed some garlic (a natural antibiotic), cut it into tiny pieces, and bit down on that area of the jaw, upper right side. And, since I couldn’t get back to sleep, started reading Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons, which I borrowed from the library last night, on the recommendation of Barbara Hand Clow in her recent interview with Zany Mystic.
Of course, that book happens to be a fiction-wrapped account of The Illuminati. It proved so engaging that for awhile I forgot all about my aching jaw. (This morning, I’m still chomping garlic, the pain is down somewhat, and and I have an appointment with my intuitive healer at 1:30 this afternoon.)
But my head is still hurting, not so much in the physical sense but mentally. Who in hell IS this pope? Latest theory: he is sincere in his beliefs and also realizes the NWO people, including his fellow Jesuits, are trying to play him like a puppet; he’s using the space they open for him to speak, hoping humans will curb their materialistic appetites without resorting to a police state.
Oh? Is that really my latest theory, or just my latest wish?
After stopping at the library for that book last night, I went to the monthly Green Drinks event, which featured a talk by a friend of mine, a professor of theology, concerning the role of religion in climate change. David clearly loves this pope, thinks he IS a savior. Perhaps it was the cognitive dissonance I myself experienced while listening to him that made the jaw infection erupt.
One more hilarity: this morning I couldn’t find my glasses. They are rimless and very hard to see! (And amazingly, already eight years old. Not nearly as frail as they appear.) So I found my other, even older pair of glasses — I always know exactly where I keep them in the event of not being able to find the first pair — and my goddess, I still couldn’t find the glasses. Not in any of their usual suspected places.
I was sitting on the toilet pondering my next move when voila! Memory served! (And memory is not exactly a commodity I can count on at 72 years old.)
Suddenly I recalled standing in front of the sink last night, looking in the cupboards for something or other. Something fell, and crashed. Something else fell into the wastebasket. I gave a cursory look in the basket (without my glasses on; I had taken them off to wash my face), and, seeing nothing, promptly forgot.
Now I remembered. Sitting on the toilet this morning, I remembered. YES! What was that clunk against the metal?
See em? Katarina’s dark hair on top.
I know, I know. What a gross way to start the day. (And did I really have to show a picture of it?) But then the pope’s got nothin’ on me! Let him try his New World Order. I’ll just squirm out of reach. Like all of us live ones. We don’t take kindly to control.
Nor do my glasses, apparently.