Group Consciousness: Instinct Shows the Way

A murmuration of starlings, thousands celebrating strangely warm weather, late November, NE Scotland

A bird doesn’t sing because it has an answer. It sings because it has a song. 
Lou Holtz

Starlings are some of the most ubiquitous birds on the planet: seen in Asia and Europe as all-black, in north Africa and western USA, bespeckled with silver. They are also the most adaptable. They are equally at home in open Scandinavian farmland, the mountains of Scotland and over the ocean bays of the Northwest Pacific coast. They flock in ‘murmurations’, dancing at dusk before they swoop to their pre-roost. Then, just as suddenly, as if on a signal by a starling commander, they flip upwards to the sky once more, perform a reprise and –communally, as one — head for bed. Sometimes there is a twitter, a single juvenile not quite in tune with the rest, but mostly their flight is silent, except for its enormous “swoosh” as a thousand birds murmurate overhead. For a mere human, rooted to the ground, it is a seminal experience; a writer-friend says “gotta put this on my bucket list: see a murmuration before I kick it”. For the starling, it is an exercise in group consciousness. A pre-nap flex of those compact little bodies, as if to celebrate the last of the light.

As with many animals — the cetaceans, the wolves — the starling’s group consciousness shows how far we humans have strayed from our own instincts, our intuitive ability to sense the emotions, the loves and fears of our fellows.

Do starlings have a deeper connection to ocean life? or are they just teasing us? Murmuration over Gretna, Borders in Scotland's warmest Autumn 2011

A wolf knows the difference between an inconvenience and a catastrophe Clarissa Pinkola-Estes Women Who Run with the Wolves

It is our instinct, says Dr Clarissa Pinkola-Estes, American poet, author of ‘Women Who Run with the Wolves’, 1995, and Jungian psychotherapist, which women are reasserting, re-educating their families to recognize, allowing the long-hidden feminine ‘knowing’ to come back into its own. She likens parental instinct (often in both parents — not just restricted to the female source) to radar.

“A mama’s, papa’s heart tracks the presence, speed, direction, and distance of the swift-flying hearts of kidlettes… where those beloved flying objects are positioned, at what altitude, in what condition they are traveling. This is a normal state in nature, for the older to keep track of the young.” She believes that the mother-father-radar can track other objects of like kind. That this same radar can “map the surfaces of other ‘objects’ in the same sky… including their density and intents, whether near or far away, so as to sense ‘what else’ is ‘out there’ in the universe their lovelings travel day and night.” She is convinced human instinct just needs to be fostered for it to return alive and well to the human heart; that fear — exaggerated by Culture, bombarded by Media — dents and dulls instinct, damages its natural flow. But intuition can be repaired. She tells a sweet story to illustrate how.

THE WOLF OF GUBBIO

“There is a little story in our family told about the wolf of the village named Gubbio. In our highly unconventional Schwäbisher version of the Gubbio Wolf, St Francis of Assisi who could speak to the animals, spoke to a Wolf the villagers madly feared for all its growling and staightlegged and ears-forward postures in the roads and behind the homes.

“Gentle Francis praised Wolf for her many attributes, but also whispered to Wolf, ‘Dont act quite so scary with the villagers, you know, keep some of the things you know and see to yourself… instead of always growling or barking them out over every little thing. That way the villagers will not fear you. And you can still see what you see, know what you know, and if need be, react accordingly.’

Women and wolves: tuned into their instincts; Pinkola-Estes' wolf archetype

“And Wolf agreed to do thusly, and loved St. Francis because Francis was gentle with her, and did not chastise her… but instead, taught her to remember her best self again.

“And thus, in our family the old people told the story that the Wolf from that day forward to whomever asked, would share her thoughts and ideas with whichever human being thought to ask Her about her far sight, her keen sense of smell and hearing, and her ‘tasting the air’.”
Women who run with the Wolves, 1992, 1995 C. Pinkola-Estes, American poet, post-trauma specialist and Jungian psychotherapist.

….Like an alert and healthy wolf, many a mother’s heart, a father’s heart carries a radar system in order to herd, teach, protect the vulnerable and the young…**

So, it happens that we, the human race have been gearing up to 2012, sensing with greater or lesser instinctual knowing, that something is afoot. It’s not just that solar radar is shooting flares at us in gay abandon — the current ‘radiation storm‘ causing anomalous weather, high-latitude aurora borealis and electrical blackouts — but deep in our cultural memory, our Oversoul anticipates and prophecies foretell something earth-shifting to take place as one World Age grinds to a halt and a New World Age starts up its engines.

Return to Source: realignment with the Center of the Milky Way December solstice 2012

What this new world will be, we still do not know — and unknowing has traditionally been the death of the logical mind. But there have been and continue to be many signs: from the Occupy movement statement of zero tolerance by our Youth, now two months down the line; to the much-vaunted-and-analyzed Long Count Calendar of the Maya, spiraling to a close in just over one year from now, December solstice, 2012, when coincidentally the Earth, Sun and Solar System will come into close alignment with Galactic Center. It is the moment the Maya foretold that we come into alignment with the Sacred World Tree, that deep chasm in space at the center of the Milky Way where we shall re-enter our Cosmic birth canal.

Windmill Hill July 26th, 2011 Ouroboros, mythical serpent consuming its own tail: return to our own birth canal

Looking back over the crop circle season of 2011 in England – and not forgetting a number of surprise Southern hemisphere appearances in Brazil end-October/early November, it seems we have been prompted many times to trigger our cultural folk memory, our Group consciousness, into desire to return to our ancestral roots: not just in terms of retuning into our Earth Mother — to care for and nurture her — but to our celestial roots where we rendezvous in December 2012 with the birth canal from which the solar system sprang: symbolized by the classic Ouroboros, serpent of wisdom and all knowledge, consuming his own tail.

New Man reborn from the mouth of the Serpent, Kukulkan

In Central American legend, when the serpent swallows his beginnings, New Man emerges from the serpent’s throat, reborn, rejuvenated, re-instructed in the wisdom of the spheres.

Unlike the internet system of ‘artificial intelligence’ of just one decade ago, the network most of us call our alternate home is burgeoning with spiritual advice, distance healing, consciousness-raising exercises and support groups. It is as if, in a few years we are being groomed to elevate our consciousness, ourselves, our Group Mind and hone our new knowledge and our Instinct in any way we can, in order to prepare ourselves for a meeting with our Greater Selves: it is as if the Attractor at the End of Time is calling us to become one with All that Is. And, unlike a few years ago, the concept is now less daunting. We are becoming accustomed to the idea that we ARE, as Carl Sagan once said, Children of the Stars, and that we are returning Home.

Feels good, doesn’t it?
©2011 Siderealview

** Dr Pinkola-Estes is a miracle woman/wolf in Jungian clothing. When she authored the first edition of WWRWTW in 1995, certain pages were edited out (who could edit out such wonders?). Be that as it may, she is now offering access to these missing gems and posting them on her Facebook page. Do visit and *like. You will be glad you did. MCY

Like the Buffalo, Heading into the Wind

Last of the harvest

Equinox is approaching; light shines for fewer hours; the Earth’s northern hemisphere cools. A hinge on the doorway of the seasons swings to a close.
Time reaches the halfway point between solstice and solstice; it pauses, giving all of us equal hours of day and night at once, at one. There is still hope. Then the door closes.

There is definitely a feeling of closure around right now. In turbulent times we resort to gathering in of faculties, pulling in the feelers after a tentative burst of faith and hope that the world would change overnight. Did we believe that by our being blasted with Cosmic Rays, messages from ET, a flurry of spiritual internet (and out-of-planet) communication, that we might find a quick fix, a rescue remedy to reach the Promised Land? After the pinnacles of 09/09/09, three eclipses, admonitions to prepare for a Life Change, a Planetary Shift, Shift of the Ages, there now seems a finality to each day, a touch of chill descends at night. The summer of 2009 gently pulls down its curtain and allows us to retreat from the elements, to enter our caves for the winter.

Many cultures of ancient tradition take this time to go inward spiritually. Eastern philosophies turn from waning light without and focus on the light within. Autumn lecture tours by gurus and autumnal spiritual retreats abound. Others in the West find solace in working to consolidate one’s own projects, to take stock and assimilate knowledge, insight, light gained over summer.
For a writer this should be a glorious time: more access to internet and computer hours to satisfy even a librarian.

This writer is a gardener though and the gardener in her demurs. Doesn’t want to let go of the light; the feeling of summer still warm on the skin is seductive, there is a longing for a reprise, a need made more poignant by the last rays of the sun, the gathering of swallows.

Not all of us, however, may like grasshoppers flee the wintertime. Change is often a call to the human urge to move on. We need to heed the call.

Fall was traditionally – and in some places still is – a time of migration. Food supplies dry up with shortening days, earth has given her all: the wise move on. Swallows, songbirds, geese are the last in Europe to leave, while their fellow residents still gather in the harvest: human farmers barley and wheat, animal residents nuts and berries. In the Pacific NW mammals of the old regime are urged by primeval instinct to move to winter grounds. Wolf, elk, bear, caribou, mountain lion and moose all have to find more food, shelter, winter quarters.

Farther south there used to be buffalo.

Heading into the Wind

Now with little territory of their own, bison (political correctness of terminolgy goes with manipulation of animals) have nowhere to move. They are herded like other domestic beasts, subject to humanity. We are now trying to do the same with wolves.

The Wolf, unlike the Buffalo, is fighting back. There is a current initiative to overturn Washington’s recent shortsighted alteration to the Endangered Species Act.

They say our only way forward as a Race is to follow our inner urge to move with the times. That we should trust our guidance by our Higher (inner, wiser) Self to bring us out of the mess we’ve gotten ourselves and our planet into. The Earth is, after all, reaching out to show us how to do it.

At autumnal equinox, the beauty of light, growth in its final stature (before the fall) and abundance of fruit, prolific increase in bird and vegetable kingdoms, all give us hope to nurture us through the winter, to protect us from wilds of weather and wind. As well as gathering in the harvest, we are being asked to ‘gather into the fold’, to foster in ourselves a spirit of endurance.

Mountain lion, cougar or Kelly's Cat, wild cat is a survivor

In all older traditions there was one totem animal that embodied endurance. Russia had Bear; Norway, Sweden, Finland have Reindeer; Central Europe (used to) have the Wolf; North Africa and the Middle East the Camel; Central Africa the Cat; both Americas had the Eagle. But in addition to Native American’s respect for Eagle, his admiration went out to Buffalo.

When all of surrounding humankind is packing up tipi, provisions, families and goods to find winter hunting grounds, following migrant animals was a way of life. It more often than not included hardship and trek over difficult terrain to get there. Death, survival and jubilation on arrival were common in both man and animal. Native American wisdom says that animal teaches Man how to live.

When all else failed, the buffalo headed out from sunny summer plains and through what seems like insuperable odds, braved wind, hail and snow to reach better ground.

We are being asked to do the same. Human nature has the power of endurance, the intellect and spirit to survive and ensure survival. Along with our fellow earth residents, we have an obligation to care for both summer plains and winter feeding grounds. Without our care, they won’t be there next fall.

Buffalo hooves are not made for concrete

We as a species are being asked to hold firm to what we believe. That we should show gratitude for the gift we have been given of this unique planet. That heaven-on-earth is as we make it. Nature will help, but we have to want to cooperate, not bully her into it.

We as a species are being asked to become custodians again: to care for our home like responsible animals; not trash it like hyenas and wild dogs: This is no longer simply wise; it is a necessity. Like the animal kingdom, we are being asked to look after our territory for ourselves, for our children, our families, our piece of the planet, and in combination with others, the planet as a whole.

This project we are taking on will not be easy. But we have been genetically engineered to overcome our past and endure its consequences. The journey will have its pitfalls. We may not arrive as we started out. But we will get there. If we do it together.

In order to get there, though, to make sure we reach our goal, by immersing ourselves in transition from medieval to superstellar species we, like the Buffalo, may have to head into the Wind.

Lobo and the Future of Mankind

from chapter two SHASTA: Critical Mass,

Canis lupus, Lobo the Wolf

Lobo’s wisdom would guide them

Book cover by Joris Amerlaan for SHASTA: Critical Mass by Marian Youngblood

SHASTA: CRITICAL MASS
The following is an excerpt from the new back-to-the-Earth spiritual novel by MARIAN YOUNGBLOOD

A video presentation of the novel’s story and setting can be seen on YouTube here.

… or a shadow over my grave…

The wolf pack had been gathering all day under the watchful eye of Tawnia, the mother, and were about ready to head out. Her mate Lobo, the tribe’s great white alpha male, experienced in the ways of Men and the natural world, would lead them. If they walked all evening and most of the night, they would travel beyond the perimeter and out of danger. In the Park they were protected; out there their lives were not safe because Man and they didn’t always get along, It was a risk they had to take. Staying behind was for the aged or sick. The young were hitching rides with cousins, allowing aunts to carry them in their mouths. Never in Tawnia’s time had she seen such cohesion and trust within the pack: young warriors were cowtowing, behaving like wise old beasts, just this once. They knew something big was afoot.

Lobo’s instinct was pure; his decision contained wisdom beyond their own limited view. They trusted him to lead them to safety. He called the Elders together and they agreed.

They had to leave the camouflage and protection of their Yellowstone home and take their chances in desert night temperatures because Lobo had read the signs and Yellowstone was telling them to leave: west across the desert, through the badlands lay sanctuary. There a new home beckoned. Lobo knew. Now the young had practiced and could imitate and howl the name of their destination.

Three Sisters.

Back at daybreak, Lobo called together and addressed a conclave of Elder wolves, experienced in the ways of canis lupus. They all agreed. Craters of the Moon was close, but barren; lava beds had a familiar smell but supported little wildlife. They would have to go farther to find the perfect place.

 

Lobo's wisdom would guide them

They may be of Wyoming stock, their strength in their connection to volcanic timber slopes and grassland, but their experience was gained in richer territory. Expert and lethal at trapping niche animals in a familiar shared habitat. Specialists in foraging as a posse. Community skills handed down, kept their tribe alive and strong for ten generations. Lobo’s direct ancestor founded the dynasty. Nine-times-great grandfather had been a traveler, himself: descended from New Mexico’s original and celebrated Lobo, the great wolf emulated by teenagers; one of whom even human beings had heard. He, a son of the Great Wolf Spirit, inspired respect.

 

Much had changed since Man created the first National Park in their hunting grounds; some Elders believed and hoped that ethos of the original parks was alive and active in the human young.

More senior Elders felt Man had not yet learned to put aside his ancient fear of Wolf. It was even said their Ranger friends in the old homeland were persecuted in their stead for allowing Wolf to return.

Elsewhere in this great country, canis lupus was, if not extinct, definitely rare and there were few areas where they and domestic animals shared territory. But Yellowstone was a milestone park, even if it was about to die, and there was talk among humans of giving wildlife a fairer portion, a more sensitive sharing of habitat, of a new kind of park where the lion might lie down with the lamb.

Even Abuela had heard such talk and encouraged Lobo before departure to head for the most dreamed-of location because dreams come true. Oregon had volcanoes, people there were also descended from original pioneer stock and a place would be found.

After Lobo patiently explained her words, they listened thoughtfully to her opinion and came to a consensus. There was no doubt about the Elders’ decision. They were agreed their aim was for Three Sisters. There the Great Wolf Spirit would provide a place for them.

A couple of hours later, the pack was on the move.

Only Abuela, the old grandmother, stayed in her den. If Lobo’s guidance proved less than accurate or the crisis was somehow averted, they would return to her. Age gave her resignation. She watched without blinking from her rock ledge, head between outstretched paws. As she saw the last straggler leave, her eyes closed.

LOBO is an excerpt from my forthcoming spiritual novel:
SHASTA: Critical Mass by Marian Youngblood
 

Book cover by Joris Amerlaan for SHASTA: Critical Mass by Marian Youngblood

Update:April 2010
When I wrote this, who would have known that the Bush administration would cancel the US Endangered Species Act and allow wholesale murder of Wyoming and Yellowstone wolves. Wolf killing continues as a ‘sport’ in March and April 2010-2012 in Wyoming and Idaho.

I entered SHASTA: CRITICAL MASS in James Twyman and Robert Evans’ 2010 spiritual author competition, Nexttopauthor.com. The video presentation was created at that time. Another excerpt –which gives more of the novel’s volcanic flavor– can be accessed here.

‘SHASTA: CRITICAL MASS’ has been picked up by AllThingsThatMatterPress for publication during 2012. I continue to encourage all genuine interest from agents who may wish to represent the novel with its déjà vu scenario and may feel its publication is prescient. I may be contacted via this page. Thank you.