nemoi: Bluebonnets and cable towers (via Dave77459) Magic Hour mashes-up my perspective.  I stare out the window as the sky turns lavender over Ground Zero’s gigantic cranes. It’s a time of awesome yearning and melancholy. I can feel the imprint of the stargate—the opening that took place on that sacred site.  Something continues to resonate from deep within—something continues to be spoken, gentle whispers haunt the air.  My heart goes out to the ghosts. This could have been you, they tell me, looking quaint in their early autumn office clothes from a decade ago. I feel my oneness with the scene as it begins to switch. Helicopters dart back and forth between the high-rises. The flame colored sun expands across the waterfront and gets sucked into the the black glass of the Millenium Hotel obelisk.  Thoughts of apes and evolution and a red beam stare flash like frames spliced into the reels of my mind.  The ringing in my right ear raises its pitch.  Time seems to slow down.This is when they talk to me—this is the space of The Download…when information comes in clear sentences…in the coded tapping of a giant brain, just like in a Wrinkle in Time.  An intergalactic intelligence—neither human or inhuman—neither alive nor dead.Cold and impersonal—not how we’ve wanted to imagine God….There is no new message this time except to reconfirm via vibe that we are nearly there and it is nearly here.  It won’t be long now. And by that I mean that the tide is coming back in, the circle has revolved, the cycle is nearly complete.We are coming apart at the seams—but it’s not a failing…we are falling together, spiraling like strands of DNA.  It’s what we’ve been evolving towards all along. In fact  All of our inventions, all of our great ideas and progress—the medicine and the technology and the missiles and the bombs—all of it has been summoned forth by the ever approaching object, the one Terence McKenna refers to as the Transcendental Object at the end of time. The first download I recognized as such (being no longer given a choice) is still the one I return to over and over.  I think of it as my mission statement.  A conversation with the boss—the shadow of outstretched wings falling over the prairie.“You are to help them not to be afraid.”

nemoi:

Bluebonnets and cable towers (via Dave77459)

Magic Hour mashes-up my perspective.  I stare out the window as the sky turns lavender over Ground Zero’s gigantic cranes. It’s a time of awesome yearning and melancholy. I can feel the imprint of the stargate—the opening that took place on that sacred site.  Something continues to resonate from deep within—something continues to be spoken, gentle whispers haunt the air.  My heart goes out to the ghosts. This could have been you, they tell me, looking quaint in their early autumn office clothes from a decade ago. I feel my oneness with the scene as it begins to switch. Helicopters dart back and forth between the high-rises. The flame colored sun expands across the waterfront and gets sucked into the the black glass of the Millenium Hotel obelisk.  Thoughts of apes and evolution and a red beam stare flash like frames spliced into the reels of my mind.  The ringing in my right ear raises its pitch.  Time seems to slow down.

This is when they talk to me—this is the space of The Download…when information comes in clear sentences…in the coded tapping of a giant brain, just like in a Wrinkle in Time.  An intergalactic intelligence—neither human or inhuman—neither alive nor dead.

Cold and impersonal—not how we’ve wanted to imagine God….

There is no new message this time except to reconfirm via vibe that we are nearly there and it is nearly here.  It won’t be long now. And by that I mean that the tide is coming back in, the circle has revolved, the cycle is nearly complete.

We are coming apart at the seams—but it’s not a failing…we are falling together, spiraling like strands of DNA.  It’s what we’ve been evolving towards all along. In fact  All of our inventions, all of our great ideas and progress—the medicine and the technology and the missiles and the bombs—all of it has been summoned forth by the ever approaching object, the one Terence McKenna refers to as the Transcendental Object at the end of time.

The first download I recognized as such (being no longer given a choice) is still the one I return to over and over.  I think of it as my mission statement.  A conversation with the boss—the shadow of outstretched wings falling over the prairie.

“You are to help them not to be afraid.”

Oculus is a constellation of stone and glass mosaics in the underground labyrinth of interconnected subway stations of lower Manhattan. Over three hundred mosaic eyes, drawn from a photographic study of more than twelve hundred young New Yorkers, are set into the white tile walls of the World Trade Center/Park Place/Chamber Street Stations. The work’s centerpiece is a large exquisitely detailed, elliptical glass and stone mosaic floor (38 ft 8 in x 20’8”) at the heart of the Park Place Station. The continents of the earth, interwoven with the City of New York amidst an ultramarine pool, surround a large eye in the middle of the mosaic. The mosaic is at once a vision of the world, a reflecting pool of water and a representation New York City in its proper geographical orientation. The work’s detailed renderings of the eye – the most telling, fragile and vulnerable human feature – offer a profound sense of intimacy within a public place. Together, the images create a sense of unity and flow: animating, orienting and humanizing the station. Oculus invites a dialogue between the site and those who move through it. The former World Trade Center Station is situated at the northeast corner of the site. The station was flooded and closed to the public following the September 11, 2001 attack. The site was damaged but not destroyed, and it reopened eight months later with the work mostly intact. Oculus was recognized as “an unexpected monument” by the Wall Street Journal on September 11, 2003.—Wikipeidia At first glance, the eyes appear quite alike.  But … each is casting a unique glance, some kindly, some questioning, others petulant.  What are they doing here?  What do they see? —Oculus,Jones/Ginzel (1998) I pass through the Chambers Street subway station ever day going back and forth from work.  It’s my Church.  The mosaic eyes of the Oculus art installation watch as I descend the stairwell and enter sacred space.  I remove my sunglasses and take off my ear buds so I can see the symbols and hear the mysterious drone that hangs in the air.  There’s an energy down there.  I feel certain that it’s a place of healing—I see people hobbling on crutches or walking in circles, talking loudly to themselves and I want to tell them to stop and breathe.  Let the other commuters come and go in the flash flood currents of their bizzy subway streams.  Let time go on up above in its relentless push forward…down there it is forever NOW.  There’s no where to be and nothing to do.  There’s no rushing from an imaginary here to an equally imaginary there.  The station is the destination.  We have arrived at the Eternity transit loop. The eyes will bear witness as together we turn to dust.

Oculus is a constellation of stone and glass mosaics in the underground labyrinth of interconnected subway stations of lower Manhattan. Over three hundred mosaic eyes, drawn from a photographic study of more than twelve hundred young New Yorkers, are set into the white tile walls of the World Trade Center/Park Place/Chamber Street Stations. The work’s centerpiece is a large exquisitely detailed, elliptical glass and stone mosaic floor (38 ft 8 in x 20’8”) at the heart of the Park Place Station. The continents of the earth, interwoven with the City of New York amidst an ultramarine pool, surround a large eye in the middle of the mosaic. The mosaic is at once a vision of the world, a reflecting pool of water and a representation New York City in its proper geographical orientation.

The work’s detailed renderings of the eye – the most telling, fragile and vulnerable human feature – offer a profound sense of intimacy within a public place. Together, the images create a sense of unity and flow: animating, orienting and humanizing the station. Oculus invites a dialogue between the site and those who move through it.

The former World Trade Center Station is situated at the northeast corner of the site. The station was flooded and closed to the public following the September 11, 2001 attack. The site was damaged but not destroyed, and it reopened eight months later with the work mostly intact. Oculus was recognized as “an unexpected monument” by the Wall Street Journal on September 11, 2003.—Wikipeidia


At first glance, the eyes appear quite alike.  But … each is casting a unique glance, some kindly, some questioning, others petulant.  What are they doing here?  What do they see?

—Oculus,Jones/Ginzel (1998)

I pass through the Chambers Street subway station ever day going back and forth from work.  It’s my Church.  The mosaic eyes of the Oculus art installation watch as I descend the stairwell and enter sacred space.  I remove my sunglasses and take off my ear buds so I can see the symbols and hear the mysterious drone that hangs in the air.  There’s an energy down there.  I feel certain that it’s a place of healing—I see people hobbling on crutches or walking in circles, talking loudly to themselves and I want to tell them to stop and breathe.  Let the other commuters come and go in the flash flood currents of their bizzy subway streams.  Let time go on up above in its relentless push forward…down there it is forever NOW.  There’s no where to be and nothing to do.  There’s no rushing from an imaginary here to an equally imaginary there.  The station is the destination. 

We have arrived at the Eternity transit loop.

The eyes will bear witness as together we turn to dust.