Tag Archives: Iman Mahdi return

Are We Still Playing The Game of Fragments?

Brace yourself:

I’m about to tell you a radical, probably shocking secret. (But I’m going to make you wait.)

In a world as topsy-turvy as ours, any claim of the ability to shock us might be considered presumptuous. Maybe even egomaniacal.

After all, we’re stuck in a “civilization” that wallows in the deepest slime of corruption. Groans under the weight of horrid slick tales of blood-splashed brutality and greed-splashed stupidity.

We’ve penned up the world’s healthy wildness, humanity’s ingenious native wisdom & bull-dozed them into cesspools.

Are we waiting for every last remote chance of their revival to dissolve?

Are we “the 99%” actually teamed up with “the 1%” to turn Earth into a shanty museum where the most beautiful and good lay frozen in panoramic exhibits of the past?

Are we waiting until that silent deadline when the simple clarity of enjoying living blue seas, of non-slime-slicked oceans, of non-cracked, non-fracked, non-heart-attacked lands with more beasts thriving than monster bugs & rats, has slipped horribly from the fringes of our reality?

Are we blindly waiting until livid red volcanoes of subconsciously suppressed hate, denied fear, unbridled toxic intent, so swamp our cities with psychic lava of hopelessness that humanity’s forced to cower in a prison corner of Creation?

Let’s be completely honest with ourselves here. Nobody’s watching or judging us in this moment–
except, of course, our most scrupulous exacting taskmasters–
our inner selves.

So we must ask ourselves, because to avoid these harsh questions is to embrace the most deadly mediocrity:

Will we continue to curdle our ethics so sourly that the most shallow behavior, most self-congratulatory criminality, most imbecilic violence are celebrated with no sadness?

Can’t our jaded eyes see how our personal integrity, holistic usefulness & sense of community suffer by being reduced to embarrassing court jesters performing in the royal courts of the rich?

Can’t we see how we–
from the most religious to the most atheistic–
from the most advanced intellectuals to the most incurable simpletons–

all of us seem stuck in a unexplainable waiting game?

For sure, our wait’s well-camouflaged. By sheer cleverness of denials and sheer urgency of private worries.

As a result, some of us, frozen, await Jesus Christ’s return.
Some of us expect the next Buddha, the next Iman Mahdi, the next great Caesar to relieve our responsibilities.

Some of us pretend to expect the next great President, the next great corporation, the next great Mayan 2012 calendar date to force our hands, to cleanse our festering wounds–
or the next great & horrible enemy to slap us awake.

Some of us await the landing of the UFOs or the all-saving kindness of our Space Neighbors to revive us, or the next stupendous drug to make us less stupid–
or so stupefied we won’t feel our pain.

Or, the next 1-chance-in-77-million of winning the lottery, the next fated sweet encounter with a soul mate, the next corporate bail-out, the next public hand-out, the next death of an unknown rich uncle…

But what are we waiting for?

Are we really happy with waiting for a dozen different quantum reality versions of a Jesus to wave his wand & decree with finality to each of us in turn,
“You, bad…
You, good…
You, losers…
You, the champs…
You, the chimps”?

Or to distract us with fears of suffering beneath the lash of the next “You’re fired”, “You’re too old”, or “Guess what–you’re doomed, you’re damned & you’re dead!”

Now we’ve force-fed ourselves these tough questions, here’s Part One of that radical shocking secret:

Our waiting time is over.
Our waiting game is already up.
Our ancient tired legends & prized excuses have already surrendered their vitality.
Collapsed like sacred but useless sands of time slip-sliding into the hourglass’ bottom.

The clock already strikes past midnight for the human race.

What does this mean?

It means our past is dead. Our denial is dying.
And here we are.
Naked.
Awakening.
Scared.
Crying out for our Mamas & Papas.

But here we are.
One human family, utterly bored at playing The Game of Fragments.

Can you sense the return of your trust?
Can you feel a strange new calm?
Can you feel your fears of abandonment dissolve?

Can you feel your first deep stirrings of an ancient competence?
Can you admit you believe in your own soul’s wisdom?

Can you abandon your fears that our bridge to The New World is too shaky, too endless, too painful to cross?

Can you stop theorizing about what awaits you on the far side?
Stop squabbling about who deserves to cross & who deserves to stay behind in the Old Darkness?

Can you just be happy with putting one foot in front of the other?
With helping your neighbor who feels too lost or afraid, too ignorant or worthless, to take his or her next small step?

Can you taste your desire to emerge safely on the other side?
To reach new lands & dimensions of greater adventure?

Can you picture with your inner eye & your hidden hearing & your unused heart strength, what it might be like–
no, what it WILL be like–
for you to set foot on that promised shore?

Do you dare imagine the sweet new taste of your freedoms?
Your soul’s secret delight at everyone winning The Game of Fragments?
Can you imagine the awaiting Game of a higher, healthier, happier Reality?

If you can, are you willing to arrive safely–
are you willing for us ALL to arrive safely–
whatever the nature of this Promised Shore–

on that peaceful Island Earth whose pure freshness tugs at our attention–
whose lightening gravity demands we command & commit our energies–
to unchain our futures from self punishment and recrimination
over ancient memories of Paradises Lost–

No matter what the cost?

Are you ready?

I believe you are ready.

I believe I am, too.
Because Reality demands this.

I even believe some of us might already have arrived.
This very minute, crowded around by unseen angels they wave & yell for us.

To snap us from our self hypnosis.

To guide us by the crystalline ring of their voices until the low fog lifts
and reveals that far shore, now startlingly close.

Almost at our feet.

To quicken our steps on our way back Home.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Let me know any way I can help.
Peace & Happiness to you,
Rev. Scott Ufford,
The Psychic Philosopher
Copyright 2012