7 Council Fires, 3 Ex-Lovers, & 1 Teepee

Most Blessed Readers,

The Lord alone is holy and to be worshiped.  Have I got a story for you!

7 council fires, 3 ex-lovers, and 1 teepee are all letdowns for me, making the main point even more important that we need to stand together and cooperate, and not compete or work against each other.  None of us is as smart as all of us.  United we stand; divided we fall, which is why the “divide & conquer” strategy is continuously at play.

I travelled to Standing Rock with my work partner, who is also my ex-husband, not to mention the Archangel Michael himself.  For the non-believers and partial and fair-weather believers, I do hope you realize that neither my nor anyone’s existence is dependent on your belief any more than the existence of microorganisms was dependent on the discovery of the microscope.  Also, I love you and there is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you.

It was my third trip to Standing Rock and Michael’s second.  In accordance with the advice of so many over the years, we have retained the working part, while giving up the marriage part, of our relationship (see Mike & Me blog post at http://www.myspiritualassociation.com).  Anyway, we traversed the most treacherous of ice for the last four hours, that were supposed to be the last two hours, of a more than 10 hour drive to the first casino.  Just to give you an idea, the ice storm was so bad that both casinos & resorts which had been completely booked up for months now suddenly had accommodations.  There was room at the Inn, thanks Lord, it was that bad!

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But before that, we crested a hill in the dark and there were deer, lots of deer, on ice.  It was so icy that even the deer were slipping and sliding around as they were just starting to cross the road.  They saw us and we saw them at the earliest possible moment, yet there were only moments left before all of us were set to occupy the same space at the same time with disastrous consequences.  Icy deer on ice had a look of horror that could be matched only by our own, and I watched in slow motion and disbelief as Michael somehow maneuvered the Outback just around the crest of the rapidly advancing herd.  And I watched the head of the lead deer turn back just next to the passenger window, right next to me, just in time.  My eyes stayed on him as far as my head could turn back as we passed safely by, experiencing yet another miracle that can easily be denied or taken for granted.

It reminded me of our last trip in the fall when we mounted the deer whistles onto the car.  One of the old white Republican geezers at a gas station along the way in those red states just had to give us a hard time about mounting those deer whistles onto a Subaru with Colorado license plates.  I guess they have something against marijuana-toking liberals who really feel like the Lord did not put us here solely to wipe your asses for you when you cannot or will not do it yourselves anymore.  Those guys were really feeling a wave of empowerment just after Trump was announced as the winner of the U.S.A. presidential race of 2016.  A now frail old man stood over us with all his remaining might.  He dominated us, he raised his voice, he enlisted others from his vehicle to join in the intimidation and he relentlessly insisted that deer whistles do not work.  I thanked him for his opinion and was obliged to inform him that the opinion was incorrect in addition to being administered in such a hostile manner.  He assured me that I could find an opinion to match his if only I would “google it.”  That would not surprise me at all, I confessed, which is why I could not imagine wasting my precious time on such an idiotic endeavor.  Once it finally started sinking in to him that I really would rather die than submit to evil, he blurted out in a last ditch effort that what I really needed in those parts anyway was an antelope whistle, and not a deer whistle!  I admit that I may have had too much fun with him and others like him, especially when I assured him in parting that the next whistle I was going to get was an old fart whistle!  Thanks for making me laugh out loud!

During breakfast at the casino, though, we met just about the finest young rancher I have ever laid my eyes on.  I told Michael how proud I would be if he were our son, and he had to agree.  Not only is he tall and handsome and fit as they get and as you would expect of the real thing living the real, hard life of loving the herd through all the weather and wind and changes, but he is smart as can be, too.  Sadly, though, his eyes were torn wide open like so many of ours, by particulars of the parade of horrors constituting our current reality.  He was concerned that people at the water protectors’ camp had no idea about the type of weather coming.  Reassured that at least some preparations were underway, he asked us what we thought about North Dakota voters saying yes to medical marijuana.  Michael said that it will save money and lives.  Our young friend obviously suffered personal loss or even losses to the more-than-pain killers.

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The pharmaceutical companies lied about expensive “new and improved” pain killers being non-addictive.  After all, why else would we have a use for them?  The government signed off and the medical doctors started prescribing the pills for every complaint from sprained ankles to back surgeries.  It was not long before pretty much everyone was affected and so many addicted.  Then the medical doctors started blaming the addicts and denying them the pills they now had developed a physical need for, the denial of which actually creates a physical problem.  Yet the doctors with their brainwashed god-complexes tricking them into thinking they are infallible manage to rationalize that their actions are for their patients’ own good.  The patients-turned-victims are now left with no choice but to turn to illegal substitutes, namely heroine, that are more readily available on the street and cheaper than pain-causing, life-threatening, “pain killers” our healthcare system offers.  Use of street drugs without any regulation results in more deaths than if someone were actually treating those people, e.g., doctors like me in collaboration with other good and right doctors.  White girl knows just what to do.

While waiting to pay for the buffet at the casino, we noticed 6 white people only paying for 5.  When questioned about it by the Native American cashier, one woman said, “sorry, I am not going to eat.”  Oh, really?  Michael and I investigated.  We sat at the adjacent table.  Of course she was eating.  And it was not like she needed to eat, or couldn’t afford it, or that the others did not eat much because they all pigged out like they obviously do every day.  Well, I guess all that “healing” they were planning to do at Standing Rock after cheating the casino takes a lot of energy.

Another Republican we encountered at the casino who must be somewhere between 60-75 years old put his arm around 49-year old Michael’s shoulder saying, “How you doin’, son?”  Oh no, he is not your son.  If he were, you would be different, very different.  Of course, the guy is sporting a wife our age.  “I’m fine, how are you?”  He gives Michael that sideways glance, smirk and wink that says, “I’m with that, so I’m great,” without even having to utter a single word.  My look shifts along with Michael’s to the asshole’s companion standing the requisite 10 steps behind him.  She is attractive, while he has a drunk, red nose to top off his fat body that is stuck in misogynistic state and stance.  We both wonder silently whether or not he knows about what she has on the side?  But then he just might have missed the fact that her eye has a wink, too.

A good scientist has keen powers of observation.  I saw the deterioration between my first and second visits to Standing Rock (see blog posts at http://www.myspiritualassociation.com), which is why I bought 1 teepee.  Roofs were blown off buildings, like the metal roof blown off of the enormous convenience store and saloon building during a storm this fall.

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But the teepees were still standing.  Too bad there is hardly a tree around or it might even be possible to live around there in a somewhat sustainable manner sometime soon.  In reality though, we have all been oppressed and made dependent; make no mistake about it.

When we arrived at camp on Friday, December 30, 2016, we had to answer to young white guys at the gate and I knew we were in trouble.  Like the first Occupy protest, Occupy Wall Street in New York City’s Zuccotti Park, Standing Rock has attracted a lot of the lost and the losers as well as those rejected by mainstream society such as LGBTQIAP (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, intersex, asexual/agender/aromantic, polyamorous) folks.  I have seen a doctor from the Mayo Clinic there, too, being recognized and respected for his acts of charity, merit-seeking as they may or may not be.  But more than fellow doctors, I have seen more and more abused abusers, trust-funded fuckers, self-absorbed losers and loiterers, trouble-makers, leeches, lazy exploiters, government spies, and undercover watchers who may have been busted for drugs or DUI or even rape and are now sentenced to serve our government.  For example, a guy who used to grow marijuana in California and stock shelves at Trader Joe’s instantly trying to put himself above me, dominate me, correct me, tell me how to be and act and what I can and cannot say.  “We’re all leaders here.”  Anarchists are not leaders.

Even worse, we discovered that my teepee was not set up after all.  Luckily, there was room at the Inn.  Of course, plenty of overtly and aggressively homosexual men assured us that there were places for us to stay, as long as we did not mind sharing or being dominated and exploited and relentlessly harassed about performing their menial tasks for them, presumably to free up more of their time to be the self-proclaimed “leaders” they all kept insisting they were.  I already had a backup offer to stay at the further away casino & lodge and was pretty sure we would be able to stay at the closer one, so Michael and I went about the business of getting our teepee set up.

I am Mary, mother of our Lord, and Juan Diego stood me up, too, 485 years ago, and the bishop didn’t believe either, at least not at first (see Scenes from Mexico City 2016, Our Lady of Guadalupe blog posts at www.myspiritualconnection.org and http://www.myspiritualassociation.com).  Back then I asked for a casita, a little house where I could hear the weeping of my people and feel their sorrows so that I could help the Lord to remedy and alleviate their multiple sufferings, necessities, and misfortunes.  Now I am only asking for a teepee, and I even paid for it!  Needless to say, I am not new to this kind of treatment or to war or even to hell.  And while I may be considered a whore, which is a derogatory name with derogatory connotations applied to a product of war by the responsible war mongers themselves and their victims, note that Mary Magdalene and Mary, mother of our Lord, are two different people in the Bible!  They kept calling me Mary Magdalene!

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First we had to clear a space for an 18-foot teepee.  Unfortunately, there were numerous collapsed, snow-filled tents full of supplies and camping equipment, now mostly trashed, that were abandoned there, presumably during that first storm that marked the end of fall and beginning of winter for unprepared and unfit water protectors.  It must have been white people to have just up and left thousands of dollars worth of goods rotting there, enough to fill a dumpster.  So much for alleged water protectors who in reality turned out to be liabilities.  Spoiled rotten and selfish white people who have everything and think they are spiritual but do evil.  I guess that is why Michael and I with our lily-white asses got to deal with this mess.  And yes, we are plenty pissed off about it, to say the least.

The pictures are worth thousands of words they say.  You cannot even imagine how difficult it is to remove tents, gear and supplies that are well frozen into the ground beneath substantial drifts.  It is damn near impossible.

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On all sides of this and every other war are victims.  Abuse propagating abuse, revenge inspiring vengeance, darkness spawning darkness are some different ways of describing the same cycle to be broken (see also the Instructions for Helping to Improve the Human Condition at www.myspiritualconnection.org and www.myspiritualassociation.com).

Power struggles among emotionally immature who cannot get past themselves prevent them from truly loving their neighbors as themselves.  Egos are too busy trying to reap profit from plight.  “I am happy to save lives, as long as I can get rich doing it,” is a great example of a merit-seeking act of “charity.”  Get over yourselves and grow up, please.  Nobody wants to read your self-absorbed blog (yawning out loud!  YOL, OK?).  We already know why you went to Standing Rock, because it is all about you.  You need acceptance, validation, and power.  You cannot get what you want, let alone what you think you deserve in the real world, so protests like Standing Rock and Occupy offer the ultimate opportunities to rebel against the whole evil structure that oppresses you, like your daddy, or so you think.

But your ego, pride, insecurity, and fear are the stuff that make up tales like “Lord of the Flies.”

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People are oppressed for at least two reasons:  (1) to keep you down, and (2) because it works.  A sequence or progression of events, arguably inevitable, goes something like this:

Oppression → Violence → War → Rape & Pillage → Slavery

People are oppressed to keep them down, leave them behind, count them out, exploit them, even abuse them.  I, Marie, which is Mary in Europe, am the one who is free from original sin so that I can be the mother of our Lord when our Creator incarnates into a physical body to live here on earth with us.  The immaculate conception deals with the conception of me, Mary, which happened while my biological parents were physically apart as my father was a scientist who was away for work for extended periods of time.  The meek shall inherit the earth.  Yet I face violent opposition like the phenomenon of the drowning victim attempting, inadvertently, to drown the would-be rescuer.  There is only one Mary, one exception, and that is immaculate conception.

A lot of you self-proclaimed “water protectors” are really just there fueling the fire while poising yourselves for the rape and pillage, whether you realize it or not.  If your only problem is that you are not in charge, then please go home and read “Lord of the Flies” and realize that true leaders are never appointed or even elected in a farce of an election dictated by money.  The hunt is canned!  True leaders rise, in spite of being shot at relentlessly.

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On the second day of my third visit, I finally identified myself and asked for the leader(s).  I did not name any names, I just asked for the leader(s).  When I went to Mexico and I told them I was Mary, they took care of me.  In Mexico, most people believe.  Here in the U.S.A., the country of which I am a citizen, it is different.

When asked where I am from, I tried to explain that I have developed understanding across cultures and places that is required to be me, Mary, the mother of our Lord.  People ask you where you are from so they can know who you are.  That is far too simplistic an approach for someone as complex as me, and I feel obliged to be honest about it.

“Where’s the baby?” they demanded.

“I cannot possibly believe you are Mary without a baby,” they insisted.

“Why, there isn’t a baby on this planet I could convince you with,” I replied.

“There are many Marys,” they might as well have stoned me in the city square.

An atheist really cannot love Mary because love comes from the Lord.  And how did things get all the way turned around from “innocent until proven guilty” to “guilty until proven innocent?”  It was like “proving” climate change to climate change deniers while their beachfront and mountainside homes are swept away by the ever stronger storms.

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I would never walk into any organization and start dictating anything.  First, listen to the leader(s) and get the inside scoop.  In other words, reserve your ideas, visions, and fixes until you are sure what the problems and priorities truly are.  Get to the bottom of the icebergs.  Find out what is really going on.  Then determine how best to help.  Work through processes towards remedies using respect and teamwork, love and understanding.  Agree together.  Do what the Lord wants.

Sadly there was not a single leader to be found at camp that day besides myself and then Michael, in that order, and the overwhelming evil there was not worth the risk or the trouble.  The leadership that was at the camp during my first visit has been taken over by evil.  Control has been lost to the ego, which brings me to 3 ex-lovers.

3 of my ex-lovers who are all white males have similarities (see Mike & Me blog post on http://www.myspiritualassociation.com) that become especially apparent when compared and contrasted to ex-lovers of different colors from different places.

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Incarnation is when the non-physical soul comes into a physical body for life on earth.  I have been through this process so many times now that no one can talk me out of it, but that is clearly not the case for everyone.  A portion of the consciousness related to the subconsciousness is already engaged at conception, recording without emotion or judgement all experiences, especially mother’s voice, emotions, feelings, stresses.  Soon after conception, we forget who we are and we come to identify ourselves first as our physical bodies.  The conscious mind is necessary to constantly identify and deal with threats to personal survival, whether real or imagined.  When we think we are our bodies, then the conscious mind is preoccupied with survival of the body.  As the personality develops, we begin to identify with that and the mind itself.  Since the function of the mind is survival of whatever the being considers itself to be, and since the being has come to consider that it is the mind, the function of the mind perpetuates its own concern for survival.  The resulting error of the mind is ego, which leads to much of the seemingly endless human suffering on the planet.  (Baldwin, W. J., Spirit Releasement Therapy, A Technique Manual, second edition, Headline Books, Terra Alta, WV, First Printing 1991, ISBN: 0-929915-16-X).

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It is the ego of the white man that has disrupted the Seven Council Fires in its relentless pursuit of the destruction of the force of spirituality or belief that is indeed a very real threat to the evil powers that be.  In fact, I was taken to a different fire that was burning hard-won wood away wastefully outside.

“Oceti Sakowin” does not really mean 7 council fires, since “oceti” is really more like “stove” according to a language teacher who delighted me along the way.

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The Native American people I have met at Standing Rock have been largely opposed to any form of recording, including voice, audio, photographic, and any other form of recording.  No recording of ceremonies, sweat lodge, dancing, drumming, singing, or praying.  Treat horses like people and do not photograph them unless caregivers give permission, we were told.  No pictures means no stories, I learned during my work as a freelance writer.  We were against recording, too, but now I believe that it is necessary.  We buried the Instructions for Helping to Improve the Human Condition (www.myspiritualassociation.com and www.myspiritualconnection.org) secretly for years, but now the Instructions are in at least 28 different countries.  During the times when we were clandestinely planting the Instructions, we had no idea that they would be in at least 28 different countries today.  In Mexico, Native Americans want to be photographed (see, for example, Scenes from Mexico City 2016, Our Lady of Guadalupe blog posts on www.myspiritualconnection.org and http://www.myspiritualassociation.com).

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Finally, most beloved readers, I leave you with lots of good news.

“Investors Delay $2 Billion Purchase of Dakota Access Pipeline Stake,” thanks to all of us Water Protectors.

Still the fight is not over.  Even President Obama cannot stop this pipeline, or he would have already.  Looking around these days it is easy to find evidence indicating that the Lord is coming.

I have invoked eminent domain to take and protect all water for public use.  Further, I have voided and nullified Christian Dominion and, thereby, current land ownership.  See blog post entitled How 21 Water Protectors Got Arrested at www.myspiritualassociation.com.

I am here for everyone, to work together for good united with truth.  It is a matter of Free Will.  I love you, all of you.

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A Day That Is Not

The sun is up.

I know this from the

illuminated window shade.

Loud engines of old vehicles

shake me with their message

of unknown people

pursuing unknown daily agendas.

I am restless in bed — more

evidence that the night is giving way.

All surroundings indicate

the arrival of a day…

yet no day emerges.

 

Her hurt feelings are

everywhere I look

traveling my visual pathways

overwhelming my brain.

 

The ice in our driveway = our frozen

channels of communication, the

solidification of past misunderstandings.

The old spider web behind the washer

is our faith, in disrepair & unused.

The dog’s sad posture on the floor

reminds me of how I must now

appear, my confusion certainly obvious,

floundering without the focus of

my life.  A shell of what was there

when her love was mine.  And the

world made sense.

 

And mercilessly soon

my other senses pickup the chorus.

 

My coffee tortures my nostrils

with stirred memories (with Kahlua)

of wonderful Sun. mornings

gone by.

When our dreams were strong.

When I wanted to live forever.

 

And the clock ticks on and on,

without thought…

to remind me of the stubbornness

of my ways

and my insensitivity to its

effects upon the one I love.

 

Events continue to occur

as if a day were progressing

but they are deceiving me.

For I know that a day

is 24 hours during which I

can convince myself that

she cares.

A time period in which I

am treated to her smile.

By definition.

 

And so it is not a day

but simply a wasteland

–Anonymous