Note: For background on this post, see this and this, and the many posts on the subject on the stevebeckow.com site.

From Wikipedia:

“A thought experiment or Gedankenexperiment (from German) considers some hypothesis, theory,^[1] or principle for the purpose of thinking through its consequences. Given the structure of the experiment, it may or may not be possible to actually perform it, and, in the case that it is possible for it to be performed, there need be no intention of any kind to actually perform the experiment in question. The common goal of a thought experiment is to explore the potential consequences of the principle in question.”

Not that we knew we were engaging in a Neptunian thought experiment. We 300-plus star-gazers from all around the world really did think we were about to be lifted off Earth and taken to “Neptune,” a mothership parked somewhere in our solar system, on the very day that the planet Neptune (planet of illusion, deception, spirituality, vision, etc.) went into its home sign Pisces. Hilarious synchronicity and a hell of an experiment, eh? And boy were we “fooled.”

Well, that’s the point. Or maybe I should say, that’s where the point dissolves into space, because with Neptune anything goes, and keeps going, disappearing down the rabbit hole. Illusion, delusion, mass hypnosis, all of it, we did a huge gedanken experiment on the very day that Neptune went into Pisces, all of us together, dreaming of life on the mothership where all diseases would be healed, our dogs and cats would play together, our clothes would be cleaned just by stepping through a doorway, we would taste the food of extraterrestrials, meet with them in General Assemblies, all of us occupying Disclosure, the connection, even communion among all of us everywhere, no matter our ethnicities, be we Australians, or Arcturians or Somalians or Pleiadeans, or intergalactic travelers or long deceased friends and family, yes; all of us together, in communion, for ten whole days, before returning to Earth, this poor beleaguered Gaia that has a massive blindfold wrapped all around her which suffocates free thought, the free play of the imagination, suffocates all who would live in spaciousness rather than stuff themselves inside of mental scaffolding of any kind.

And, BTW, that mental scaffolding includes “belief” that the experiment would “work,” in the sense that we would be taken off-world, all 300-plus of us, picked up in black limos and whisked up and beyond.

So . . . when the experiment did not “work” in that very limited sense of the scaffolding of belief that constrains us into thinking it would, then there was some mighty disappointment and fingerpointing and fear that this would derail all serious talk about our connection with star beings.

Not so. Remember, we are here to learn of our origins in spaciousness. Those mental scaffolds we erect around us are prisons for the mind to play in. As were any of the ways we wanted to see the mothership operating. Aaah! I’ll be healed! Aaaah! I’ll be instructed! Aaaah! I’ll find my long lost husband Jeff who “died” in 2003 and my little dog Emma who was taken by a car accident last summer! Emma can meet Shadow, my new little dog, just her size, upon whom I performed a special washing and grooming the day before Saturday, our scheduled takeoff.

My son Colin, who shares my boundless imaginative reach, and I drove around on Friday doing final errands before takeoff laughing like crazy with hilarity and excitement. “My god, it could be true!” One of us would erupt periodically, instigating another round of laughter and joy. “I’d say it’s a 50/50 chance,” he said at one point. I had no idea what the odds were, all I knew that I was enjoying hugely the roller-coaster emotional ride of thinking about actually lifting off, in my body, with my little dog, and arriving on a spaceship to meet up with other beings, whether from Earth or elsewhere, who share my enthusiasm for the greater mysteries, and given my contentious, fiery personality, for publicly confronting the taboo that extraterrestrial life still presents in the mainstream currents of these times. As my friend Keith told me awhile ago, lots of permaculturists won’t even read this exopermacultural site, because it includes the possibility of extraterrestrial life!

I find that hilarious too — and love to take them on, really do relish being “the object of ridicule.” Because, as I was told by my dear mentor back in graduate school, you know you’re doing something important when you create a wake. Yes, there is a decided wake that follows any ship that steers directly into the waves of collective opinion, slicing through all the unconscious assumptions that govern this third-dimensional “reality.”

And I was relishing the idea that if I did go, if I was taken, that the party, scheduled for 6:30 tonight at my house, a potluck and meet up for GANG, GANA and GANE (all Green Acres neighborhood related) would go on, and then be hijacked by the fact that I had gone and of course, the entire conversation would then suddenly be about exterrestrial life!

One of the things we plan to do at the party tonight is to talk about starting a gifting circle (see this), where we enjoy the benefits of mutual exchange without the medium of money. Had the party been hijacked by my departure, Colin could have told them about what we had heard from channeled sources about life onboard the good ship Neptune, where they have “stores” for anything you need, and you don’t need money to purchase. Yes, whatever they’re doing up there, they’ve evolved beyond money, and in this poor world besotted Earth ship awash in the just-about-completed torrential flows of money from the bottom 99.9999% to the top 00.00001%, all those “without” money feel bereft, poor, victimized. Eyes downcast, they shuffle along, feeling separate, angry, and hungry.

Or, they don’t! The point is, to activate the imagination. Do it through thought experiments of this kind, where hundreds of people all join to imagine something entirely different, so different it made me wonder if I’d shit in my pants or — imagine all alone, by yourself, tune into the infinite space inside yourself, and how that bleeds and overflows into the infinite spaciousness of the open sky.

As the Buddhists say, the spirit is the open spacious blue sky infinite in all directions, and the mind creates clouds that block it from view. And, those who “believe” in any kind of mental scaffolding — like the idea that if this experiment doesn’t work, then the entire extraterrestrial two-way communication is bunk — for those who need “proof,” tangible, physical, third-dimensional assurance that yes, it is “real,” are taking pictures of current clouds and reifying them into cement. As if they were always there and would always be there, because that’s how the sky should look!

Do you see where this kind of reification of any idea, any expectation, any imagined “result,” any need for the experiment to “go off as planned” carries the stink of fundamentalism?

I am happy and actually kind of amazed, to note that during this past week’s pell-mell emotional roller-coaster of joy/excitement/overwhelm I did not get “attached” to results, did not “need” for the experiment to work in order to maintain my equilibrium. My equilibrium lives below the level of the clouds in the sky, it is of the sky, of the dimensions that these beings, whoever they are, in their invitation to us, live and move and have their being. In my imagination while here on earth in a physical body, I join them in their compassion for the consequent suffering of those who so much needed, who so desperately hungered, for this experiment to work, to “come true.”

It did come true. A collective thought form was created by the hundreds of souls who were willing to risk everything to “go,” and by the hundreds of thousands of people who viewed all the posts on this subject on Steve Beckow’s site and the thousands of people who viewed it on this site, and all the other sites that had anything to do with this notion that we, who live on earth, belong to the stars. We do. We do indeed.