I love this post by astologer, permaculture village creator, author and more, Ann Kreilkamp:
In the past 48 hours I’ve heard about two couples familiar to me, one of whom has been married for many years, the other a strong, bonded, romantic couple for only the past few months, and both these couples are now at each other’s throats. Why? Not over small, stubborn, personal issues. No. Instead, over something seemingly much more abstract, “issues” having to do with how one sees the entire world, or in short, one’s world view.
In both these cases, one person in each couple has been red- pilling his or her self and the other has not. So my question: is this phenomenon now being repeated all across the country?
If you haven’t heard the phrase “red-pilling,” it’s a convenient way to indicate that one is no longer “taking the blue pill,” no longer inside The Matrix that programs us to be-LIE-ve in culturally sanctioned illusions that get and keep us dumbed down and passive.
As I look back, I realize that my own introduction to seeing through the matrix began with the Kennedy assasination. One might call that event my initiation into adulthood. This stunning, out-of-nowhere, obviously evil deed, the gory details of which were broadcast over and over again on the television, took place not even one month prior to my 21st birthday. Even then, I sensed that something was very wrong with the explanations, but I had no idea what, and buried my distrust for many years, until one Saturn cycle later, when Oliver Stone’s 1991 movie JFK brought it up again for the culture to review.
But not just that. After all, I was coming of age in the late ’60s, when Uranus and Pluto conjuncted in Virgo, and blew the lid off the staid, stable ’50s. In my late 20s, I deliberately swallowed the red pill (in the form of LSD), and, the very next day, found myself, as a doctoral student in philosophy, entirely at odds with the way mainstream philosophy, psychiatry, psychology, and allopathic medicine viewed the mind, the human spirit, the relation between mind and body, and the relation between humans and the planet.
So yes, one might say that I was of that generation that red-pilled itself before we were even ready. We had no idea how to work with what was emerging. Most of us either went “too far out,” and “blew our minds,” or we scuttled back into the glamorous confines of boring materialism and status, better safe than sorry.
Not me. I was not even tempted to do that.
In my case, each new discovery that “things are not what they seem” shifted me further out of the social pack, and made me realize, once again, that I was alone, or I seemed to be alone in my thinking process. But was I? I knew I wasn’t. At least I knew that the authors of the books I was reading — Jung, Laing, Wittgenstein, and others — were also red-pilled, as we’d say now. And I knew also that if I just kept going, that if I did not get stuck, as my own internal guidance advised, then at some point I would actually begin to help others do the same. Furthermore, since I did have internal guidance, since that was so very very obvious to me, once I had almost died and instead chose full aliveness, I knew I was not alone, never had been. Always, I’ve been surrounded by guides, whether internal or external. When externally needed, they appear. Which is rare. Usually, just paying attention to my own psyche — and, of course, to dreams, synchronicities, visions, other right brain emanations of the larger psyche that fills and flows through us all — is plenty, for me to remember myself, my connection with the whole.
Sometimes I take myself to a forest, and commune there inside the trees’ communion with each other, their silent, spacious presence that holds and envelops and nourishes all within their reach, both below the earth through their roots and above the earth as their branches reach for the sky. I love how trees are aware of each other, how they lean away just enough so as not to disturb each other if possible; how they sometimes catch each other when they fall, and remain there, the live one upholding the dying one in its fork, for years, through its death and slow process of decomposition, providing even better habitat than when alive for the many species that feed upon it. I love how trees, when they do fall all the way down, then seem to dissolve gradually into the ground, as the species that inhabit their moss and mushroom covered nooks and cracks and crannies gradually take over, eating what remains. I love how the forest holds life and death and rebirth continually in the great cosmic wheel of energy condensing into and dissolving material forms. How could I not be happy and fulfilled walking through the forest?
How could I feel alone there, when enveloped by these great wise beings who see all, feel all, bend with the wind, and accept what comes from the sky? How could I not move into the same spaciousness that they inhabit naturally? How could I not follow my own nature to do the same?
I must admit, however, that each time I’m red-pilled in yet another area, it still comes as a shock, and sometimes I’m tempted into temporary denial. I think here especially of my reading of Kathy O’Brien’s Trance Formation of America, in the ’90s, and how at first I didn’t want to accept what happened to her, but in the end I could not forget. The events in this autobiographical account ended up not only completely shifting my view of Hillary Clinton and others, but made me recognize the evil underbelly of CIA-ruled MK Ultra mind control programs in general, and the complicity of the psychiatric profession.
And, there was, and is, always the forest. That which sustains being and does not judge. Rather, the forest accepts, allows, absorbs. You see why now I and others want so much for Donald Trump to “walk barefoot in the forest on mushrooms”? What would happen to this uber-capitalist, this superhero to some and buffoonish devil to others, this gigantic human whose vision is still so narrow, who sees nothing wrong with destroying the environment in the interests of big business? Whose undeniable skill at domination might be tempered and absorbed into the forest’s interspecies cooperation.
All in all, red-pilling oneself is, “in the end,” not as hard as it looks, nor as isolating. Oh, it may be to start, and even after all these decades, when you’d think I would be wised up, I still do have to “watch what I say,” — or not, depending on how I feel that day, or what kinds of storms are in the air, or my assessment of what my companions may be “ready for.” In any case, I don’t worry about feeling “alone” and “isolated” in my discoveries. Because I am not. Never have been, considering all the unseen help at my disposal. Furthermore, millions of people are now at least beginning to red-pill themselves, and as we do, this Great Awakening proceeds to throw revealing light on what has been a shadowy psychopathological underworld of total control, massive and continuous slavery and destruction for decades, even centuries.
Especially since the turn of the millennium, we, the people of the world, have become all too aware of the false flags that begin wars, and the bankster connection to both sides of any war. We are aware of 9/11, and how the official explanations just don’t make sense. We are quite accustomed to that phrase “false flag,” don’t just think of it as the movie, Wag the Dog, which announced it, and are quick to pronounce various mainstream media promoted scenarios, especially “lone gunman shootings” as designed to create fear and havoc, so that we may be more easily controlled, via “action, reaction, solution.”
The cabal, the illuminati, the deep state, the shadow government — lots of ways to talk about how a few people are controlling the many, or have been. How their smoothly administered blue pill is no longer going down. We simply can’t stomach it any more. And though it may seem as if there’s dissension in every household now, as at least one member within it wakes up to how we have all been hoodwinked for so long; as time goes on, and we long-term red-pillers are patient with our own impatience, and especially patient with those in our household who are still too scared to see, still too in need of the security blanket of their own long held, socially programmed be-LIE-fs, to even begin to peek out from under the blanket and behold the open sky, I have a hunch that the truth bombs now dropping will explode into jaw-dropping awareness.
Let those of us who have red-pilled ourselves for decades be ready for this explosion. Let us serve as strong central pillars of awareness, compassion and inclusion for the others who are just waking up. Let us be like old strong trees in the forest, holding all in a spacious presence that allows for even the most seemingly miraculous possibilities to emerge.