5 wk trip, day 11: Portland to Seattle, Hillary and the Crones

So! I’m in Seattle, after travel north from Portland and two very full days with both old friend Clarissa Smith and a first meeting in person with a long-time exopermaculture reader, Colleen Conifer. And now, this Friday morning, I’ve just been on the phone with another old friend, Claudia Kimball, whom I will see overnight Monday on Vashon. She and I got to talking about these extraordinary female friends I have been staying overnight with on my way north from the Bay Area — Julia, Carol, Clarissa, Colleen — all but one of age to be fully-fledged as a crone, by the way — and by the way again, I happen to compose this blogpost precisely during the annual Crones Counsel, held this year in Denver, Colorado, a counsel that I personally instigated, way back in 1992 as an outgrowth of Crone Chronicles: A Journal of Conscious Aging, which itself lasted from 1989 through 2001.

I mention “crone” here decidedly, because all these women I’ve been with certainly act like crones! No longer in need of an “identity project,” no longer worried about what anybody else thinks, or thinks of them, all eating their own shadows and fully unfolding their original selves beyond the tight little ball of ego: all fully developed, with immensely alive presences, and guess what? — all with exceedingly diverse and vociferous views about Hillary Clinton: who she really is, whether she’s evil or good, and if evil, why and how.

I find each woman’s strong, considered, and nuanced view of Hillary Clinton both stimulating and thought-provoking. And I was telling all this to Claudia, who, I then discover, has yet another strong, provocative view entirely different from all the others. So amazing! Not to know what’s going on in the geopolitical world, having no idea, really, what’s real what’s not, who’s lying who’s not, what kinds of sleight-of-hand are used to keep the sheep asleep, just how much things are photoshopped, etc etc. We really have no idea! And yet we want to think we do! At least we want to think we understand who Hillary really is, this first woman to seriously reach for the U.S. presidency.

Yep, even us crones, who frankly, to my mind, should know better! Should know that each and every person on earth is a unique universe unto him or herself with a wounded history or herstory that most likely goes some way to understand their present being and behavior; that they — we —  all matter, and intersect, and furthermore, that they — we — are all held (protected?) within the subtle, powerful, and immense embrace of the Neptune in Pisces atmosphere (2011-2026) that this year includes the dissolving of (Saturn) laws and forms, whether institutional, psychological, social, or cultural. In this context, “good and evil” also keep on swirling into each other, fusing and reconvening into yet new polarities that swish away in the very next second.

Meanwhile, for me, what I focus on is equanimity. And I know these extraordinary crones I’m talking with do too. And yet it’s hard, so hard! How can one not desire to have a strong, unyielding “opinion” in today’s crazy world? Some fixed point within which to stand inside the devouring abyss? An “opinion” which then, tends to get dashed, scattered, smashed to smithereens the very next second?

And yet, I do think we need to pay particular attention to Carol Rosin’s point of view. Because she has moved in circles of power world wide, and she was present at the original meeting decades ago during which the overall strategy was laid out of how proceed with totally nefarious plans while distracting the public with conflicting disinformation to confuse and befuddle. And, BTW, according to Carol, that includes both the whole question of “good” vs. “evil” ETs, as well as so-called “Secret Space Wars.”

So here I am, sitting alone at brother-in-law John’s kitchen table in Seattle, trying to make good clear sense of . . . of what? What’s real? If you recall, transit Saturn at 10° Sagittarius is exactly square transit Neptune at 10° Pisces during this storied time; so it really is impossible to tell. Forms, frames, plans — all seem to continuously dissolve in the heaving sea of the collective unconscious of this nation whose barely bottled up inner rage is unleashing through not just nasty polarizing language and judgments of all kinds, but worse, into what seem to be constant multiple shootings — in malls, on streets, from police, towards police — all blowback from the U.S. Empire’s inflicting of the same on the entire world.

And yet, and yet.

Yesterday, on my way up to Seattle, I had just parked my car at a rest stop on I-5. Given that I’m mostly in a state of perpetual joyousness, despite what’s going on, perhaps even because of what’s going on, a state of love that flows in from the universe, fills my heart and overflows continually into my surroundings, I then happened to be stopped on the way to the bathroom by a middle-aged man who said to me, with a look of wonder on his face, “You look happy!”

I laughed, and responded, “Yes, I’m chronically happy!”

I wish now that we had paused, stopped to talk. But I was caught up in what happens at these rest stops, complete and utter separation between car drivers and passengers, each preoccupied with holding their urine and/or poop until they can finally let go into the toilet. Yep, that was me! That man who stopped me in my tracks was on his way back to his car. I’m grateful that he sensed my aura, and reached out to join me in brief communion.

Let’s face it, though we don’t really know what’s going on in the (multidimensionally) “larger” sense, what nefarious plans are or are not in motion to take us all down in one way or another and/or what guides, visible or invisible, are shepherding us all to either “armageddon” or “ascension” or both, what we do have is the possibility of presence with each and every beautiful being we encounter along the way. That what is real is you, and me, and our conversation, our communion, no matter how brief or provocative. That this, at least, is REAL.

A few more photos of the old growth forest follow. Clarissa and her pup Louie, only a few miles from her house in North Portland. We walked there again yesterday, before I took off for Seattle.

Unfortunately, I completely forgot to take pictures the evening before with Colleen, so our wonderful rapport and the few hours we spent together, walking, talking, and eating Thai food will have to remain in memory without visual aids. And what a talk it was! We explored one rabbit hole after another, and agreed, in the end, just like the rest of us seasoned crones do, that it’s our encounters with each other, our full personal relationships with family, friends, and strangers, no matter how enduring or evanescent, that are authentic, so very very precious, — for we recognize each one as a tiny, potent node in the mutual creation of a new/old regenerative culture of connectedness, arising from the ashes of the old.