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Since the dawn of humanity, life as we know it has been nothing but a continual fight for survival. You had to survive the elements of nature, the floods and the scorching sun, volcanos, storms, tsunamis and drought. If you survived those, you had to survive your outer environment: the animals and reptiles, the poisonous plants. Then you had to survive your inner environment: the bacteria and viruses, the diseases and malfunctions of your vehicle – your body – for which you received no driving classes before being stuck in it.
You then had to survive your fellow humans in endless fights amongst tribes and nations, amongst family members, colleagues and friends. And if you were lucky to make it that far, you still had to survive your demons…whether real, whether the cause or the result of these fights.
Since the day you were born, you had to either fight or adapt to the circumstances you had no means to defeat.
What chances for a long, happy life did we have by such a script?
As if to appease the struggle and encourage the fight, at each stage in history we had a hero figure coming to the rescue. Some defeated the beasts, others defeated the microbes and bacteria, but most of the sung heroes were those who defeated “the others”. The enemy tribes and nations, the despots and their dogmatic viewpoints with which the masses were enslaved.
Since the beginning, the human has followed this triune sequence of danger – fight – victory. Each with their emotional discharge, which by repetition have been deeply programmed into our genes to the point of becoming addicted to this pattern.
But was there really any victory? Was it really any resolve at the end of those fights? Was the hero’s sacrifice worth it? Has his suicide for the masses made them better, stronger, wiser? Have they changed? Have they applied the knowledge given to them by Buddha, Jesus and other luminaries?
The answer is an obvious “no”.
So what good is there for this cycle if it doesn’t provide any true resolution?
The intervention of the hero seems to be nothing more than a much-needed stage for a cycle of struggle to end so that the next could begin. You have the danger, the fight for survival, and then you have the release, “the victory” through the brief intervention of the hero, the hero taking many forms.
This cycle has been so ingrained in the human psyche that the poor human accepted for millennia to engage in this pattern for survival, no longer on proof, but on a mere promise of a later, unspecified date of arrival of the hero, of “the saviour”.
Religions fuel the fight for survival with the promise of either the return of the hero or with the victory on the other side, after death.
Science fuels it with the promise of the invention of medicine and technology that will eventually make the human immortal.
Economics and all business models fuel the fight for survival with the promise of “making it”, of becoming N° 1 in whatever field you may be…
For what, I dare asking? For more fight?
The promise of Jesus returning to save the believers and do-gooders has kept going in this senseless fight all past generations. We hear today, as they’ve all heard centuries before, “Now it’s the time of tribulations. Those are the times spoken about in the scriptures; the times when Jesus returns.”
To do what exactly? He didn’t stop the fight and injustice then, what makes you believe that he will do it now? “Because the scriptures say?” Which ones? Because the old testament speaks of nothing else but of fights and mass murder, coming straight from the goodness of the heart of that God who, apparently, will send again his son to save you from them?!
Say you go to these modern messiahs of wealth, and you engage in the fight with all you’ve got. You sweat your ass off, you run from 5-to 6 am, you meditate, and then you begin your “productive day” of fighting in the jungle of commodities and winning by coming first. First at embroiling people to buy things they never or barely use; first at selling them more promises of the promised land…
But your fight is never over! Even if you get to the top, you’ll have to keep fighting to stay there, because heroes don’t last long, and new winners need to be born to keep the cycle going. To keep the strugglers hope by seeing “nobodies”, uneducated, untalented individuals from poor backgrounds “succeed”, so they can have a reason to stay in the fight, to hope that one day, one day it will be their turn.
Say “the commoners”, “the sheeple” have all gone after the master plan of those few idiots who think this world is theirs for the taking. Then what? Even if there’s just a handful left of them, the fight for survival and supremacy will keep going, spreading like a virus, from Earth to Mars and other planets and galaxies that we may dream of inhabiting one day, once we’ve looted this home. They’ll fight amongst themselves, and when there will be too much to bear, they’ll keep looking for other civilisations to fight against, to dominate, so they could unleash their hungry dogs on others and preserve a sense of common interest community.
If we were to look the truth in the face, we’ll realise that there’s no escape from this pattern, not even after death, since they all get caught in the reincarnation cycle, a cosmic extension of the fight for survival on Earth.
So what’s the point? What’s the point for this civilisation if all it does is fight since birth to death for a life it didn’t even know about before coming into it?
What’s the point of everything really? Of the many pleasures which man has so little time to taste and enjoy? They are nothing but programmed rewards for a conditioned behaviour, triggers, like the bells for the Pavlovian dogs. And they ring those bells keeping you salivating from childhood to the grave. If is not money, is love you are lured with.
“All is love” crap that makes me see red. The only way you could be speaking of love is by choosing to close your eyes to the ocean of hate and sufferance around you. You could be so blind that you could direct your attention on the Almighty and siphon your sense of love and wellbeing from there, in your illusory bubble, unconcerned with the rest.
We “love people”, but hell, wait until they ignore you and see how far your love for them goes. “We love animals” but eat most of them, and if we make the effort to change the diet, we love plants and nature, but we feed on them too.
Like it or not, “life”, this life is nothing but a sick game of eat or be eaten, rule or be ruled, and the fight to escape the first, hoping to land in the second category…from where to start it all over again.
“Be happy for being alive”? Sorry, I can’t do that. If staying “alive” requires a constant fight – inner and outer – with your fellows, with your family, with the unsupportive social structure, with your own mind and body, that’s not a life worth living. Not for me anyway. And I’m saying this after years of silence since I’ve seen this whole game. Since my NDE in which I have returned to Source, to a field of power from where all these futile acts seemed so pedestrian, so pitiful, and so barbaric.
From that height, my perception of life has completely changed.
I have seen other civilisations where the struggle to survive was overcome by the common development of their people. They were not fighting to survive. They were not competing with one another to get to the top. More importantly, they were not punishing their children for not knowing something which the adults, the teachers were supposed to teach them.
They had no system per se. No laws, no politics, no money. They didn’t need them because they were all empathic and telepathic and were all so consciously linked to one another that they felt what the others were feeling, heard what the others were thinking, so, like a well-balanced organism, they were self-regulating themselves and their society, as a result.
That was/is a life worth living for me. Everybody was raised equally, with equal love and consideration by the whole community, not only the parents, because they were wise enough to have learned what the human didn’t after more than 3000 years. That if one child is neglected, a whole civilisation of strife will follow him. Because his pains will be the only thing he will know to replicate. Because one bad apple could infect the whole basket.
I wrote about this civilisation in the children’s book “The Great King, The Evil Wizard and The Returning Prince”. The lessons in that book were the lessons from this civilisation, which in our vocabulary would be “the 6th dimension”.
And when I had to leave once again Source to return here, I knew that I had to share the message I was entrusted with. Like a hired typist, I started to write the Conversations with Self book. I was asking questions and the answers were coming from Source in a stream of downloads that could not be described in words. At that time, I’ve heard of Neale Donald Walsch’s book Conversations with God but never read it. The place I’ve been to, that all-encompassing pulsating field of energy had no name, no shape, and when I was thinking of the name “God”, they – as the Source explained that exists in multiples held within the same singularity – suggested “Self” as the most appropriate.
The book came out. I was happy like a child before the Xmas tree thinking that now people would finally see through this façade in which they’ve been imprisoned, mostly out of their own accord. Sadly, the number of people interested in the subject was less than 1%, and out of those only about 10% understood part of the message, the rest comparing with what they knew and passing by the essential.
I was playing music to deaf ears. The appeal of self-responsibility, of “first clean your own mess before pointing the finger and give yourself first that which you expect others to give you” had no grip on a world addicted to fighting for survival. Their addiction to the fight needed the fuel: the blame!
I wasn’t selling and I wasn’t promising riches beyond imagination. I wasn’t promising anything in fact. If there was an implicit promise, it was that of the hardship and effort this work is going to take to get out of this trap. Obviously not the clickbait people hope to be hooked with.
Years have passed and I became at my turn a struggler. Struggling to fit back in a mad world proud of its madness. Struggling to find people with whom to communicate at this level. Struggling to find the motivation to carry on struggling, to fall in line and pretend to be just another walker amongst the walking dead.
Thing is, as long as we keep engaging this world, we’ll keep feeding it, making it impossible to break the pattern. As long as we fight to survive, we make a declaration of our will to struggle in the name of a better tomorrow, a sunny day, the day when the hero will return, when something or someone will come to our rescue.
Imagine now a world of heroes, of higher beings, all waiting for humanity to come to their rescue. Because as the human is caught in this pattern, so is the hero! As long as a race will keep needing saving, from itself especially, there will be a high demand for saviours. Since their life is short amongst humans, and since whatever change they thought they’d provide is short-lived, they are as stuck in this cycle as the human is. Man then, in this beautiful complex universe of ambivalence and paradoxes is asked to become the hero’s hero.
When man will finally understand that the fight for survival is his perpetual death, when instead of waiting for Jesus to come and save him he gets up and saves Jesus the trouble of coming all that way to clean his mess, when he will get to the point of doing something not because he should but because he could, not to survive or defeat, but because is the right thing to do, then Man fulfils the prophecy of the rebirth of the saviour. Man then becomes not only his saviour, but the saviour’s.
