The We through Cathee Courter:
Just because no goddess figurines have been found at Old Man Mountain doesn't mean there wasn't a time when the feminine was stronger. The feminine is the darkness, the receptive, the night. Some cultures are more attuned to the seedtime than to the flowering—to the underground than to the external. The ancient feminine cultures had a rich inward dreamtime in which small outward statues weren't at all necessary. It's been the patriarchy that has distanced from the natural world. Before that distancing, why would you need representations of nature as you now have? If you're honoring nature not as symbolic of some transcendent thing, but as itself, then you go into the heart of it.
So if you really want to understand that time, you don't study outward artifacts. You study inward artifacts, which are not something scientists can measure. They're not found in museums. People look for inward artifacts in mythologies that have survived, but we feel that the mythologies in the tribes now barely touch on seedtime—the below-the-surface—which is beautiful. When you think of how outward experience can be symbolized by an erect penis shooting out sperm, what would inward-womb seedtime feel like?
It's hard for you to imagine hunting the wooly mammoths and oversized bison that lived then. Much of your meat comes from livestock in feedlots that go to stockyards and meat packing plants. You're totally disconnected from the live animals except when you drive by an occasional cow or buffalo in a feedlot. Pre-historic peoples took obsidian flakes or just little sharpened stones—and all they had to sharpen them with was other stones or antlers—tied them on sticks, threw them, and killed mammoths and buffalo. It defies imagination how that could have been successful, or how they got whole stampedes going over cliffs.
When you read that a shaman would use a flute to call the animals in ceremony before a hunt, is this referring to inner world or outer world experience, primarily? We would say when you're calling buffalo with a flute, that's dreamtime. When you're knowing where the buffalo are. When your relationship with the buffalo is that they're everything to you, in taking care of you. You're wearing them; you're eating them; you're sleeping under their hides. This is an intimacy with the natural world you have no experience of. When archaeologists discuss what kinds of arrowheads ancient peoples used, you don't hear about the tremendous love and gratitude between the species.
What if most of the buffalo hunt took place in the dreamtime? What if it wasn't in an adversarial relationship as you have now, since you're in denial about how miserable the cows in the feedlots are—especially the calves becoming "veal" in their tiny, tortuous quarters. What if the spearing of the buffalo was an act of intimacy? We say most clearly that it was. Those of us that are nature beings in the group that is speaking say we want to be eaten by you. We want to be a part of you. It would have been hard for the buffalo to just lie down and die, and something in that killing time had an intimacy to it. Even the hunt was part of the process of the buffalo blessing. It was humans participating with the buffalo. It was not humans controlling and making subservient the buffalo.
Can you imagine hunting a mammoth? Would you feel that your spear was such a superior instrument of destruction that you had control over the mammoth? We think not. Those peoples did not have the arrogance of modern humans. They knew they were part of the fabric of life. They knew that in their ceremonies and other interactions with nature they were supplying something very precious to the whole in their human consciousness. They didn't say "we're just consumers raping the Earth. We're worthless." Knowing that you're valuable within the natural scheme because you're intimate with the buffalo, and the buffalo appreciates your interaction with it even though you're killing it: this goes far beyond the idea of animal sacrifice.
Human sacrifice arose perhaps to bring humanness back into the whole. But we think the idea of human sacrifice in later years became something not at all like what it started out being in the dreamtime. There's an immense amount of creative power amongst those who can hold their consciousness just below the void. What is death, but a crossing over to the realm that's closer to the creative space just below the void?
Death wasn't seen as an obliteration of something that's real because it's physical and in the outer world. Death was a transition deeper into the dreamtime, which was more where people lived in their center of focus. They killed the buffalo in an intimacy that continued. It blessed them with food and shelter, and kept them going. Their experience of the buffalo's spirit was so strong that its spirit seemed almost more real to them than its hides—and we mean this literally.
You're heading back into more of that inward-focused reality. The cycle swings from a focus on inner experience to outer and back. Since death and life cycle, you would expect this swing in the huger mass consciousness as well as in individual lifetimes.
If things are first dreamed of and then come into manifestation in the outward world, you can have a people with a rich dreamtime who've not yet manifested the fullness of their intelligence in the external world of density. Sometimes it takes generations to work that inner vision of what a human can be into the DNA, culture, and even tool development. It takes great collective effort.
On Earth now, people are exploring the external to the nth degree. Many are even in denial that the inner exists—which boggles our minds, given that everyone sleeps at night, and most people can remember some dream or another. World culture is largely cut off from its seedtime and cast out into the external world, which of course involves only two-thirds of your day. One-third is still spent sleeping and exploring the inner realms (not that those realms aren't available while you're awake too).
Today people have an intense desire to bring everything to the physical level in the density of matter, and manipulate it. This has given you a platform from which to be able to re-create the dreamtime—to work back into the non-physical self's experience. This may be hard to conceptualize, because if everything is created from the dreamtime, how can the manifested dream be a platform from which to alter the source of the dream?
Genetic engineering separates a plant's physical expression from its species' soul. Nuclear explosions can erase the inner experience of a human lifetime. Electromagnetic fields have damaged the DNA blueprint of every human on the planet. In these phenomena the physical impacts the dreamtime. They're third-dimensional technology affecting the fourth dimension, and even the fifth. We would have preferred your learning you could do that to have gone the way of creativeness rather than destructiveness. Your creations now run you, and you know it. The latest cell phone sickness is just one of many cases of your technology running you, rather than vice versa. Your creations have taken over your ability to work with them and create the kind of world you want. And that clicking into place has been a recent crossing of the boundary—dialing of the setting. It's something you set in motion that is now flowering.
You did create this, but nonetheless, so much is out of your control. Human creation in the matrix of matter—of outward experience—has taken over. And to meet that and find the balance now, nature consciousness itself is transforming. If human consciousness has created something so destructive that it throws a whole universe into imbalance—with the human dominating everything—then nature consciousness must respond.
Some people talk about nature now disabling human destructive inventions through natural disasters. They feel that humans will be wiped off the planet, both by their own stupidity in their creations, and also by nature's reactions. We want to talk about this at another level.
It's not just nature coming up with new pathogens for which you can't make the vaccines fast enough. Something in the matrix of nature itself is evolving to mirror the human in every step the human takes. It has always done this in the creation of outer reality. Now it's mirroring you spiritually.
Instead of just a passive mirror, nature has become an active mirror. Nature consciousness reaches in, almost forcefully saying "look at what you've created. Look at what this is a reflection of. What in you has caused this?" And although it's still a loving dance, there's more of an edge to it in the last few years, of the feedback getting fast and sharp.
Cathee feels this at Old Man Mountain. She feels an intensity there, as if Old Man is grabbing her. It's not a passive mirror—it's an intense "look at yourself." It's a reflection that feels very forward. Not aggressive, but forward.
It's as if the creation of each individual creator is wrapping itself around them. In the past, you would have had maybe your karma coming back as a reflection to you. But now it's as if you're painting a canvas, and the canvas is talking to you. The canvas has always had the ability to talk. But you're now in a time when humans seldom seek out what the reflection is saying to them. It's time now to speak directly to the canvas—the co-creative matrix—as an intelligent vehicle.
It goes even beyond people's notions of "I saw a pelican today, which was a message." It's interacting with it, not saying "what does the pelican symbolize?" It's the pelican reaching into you with its essence, and flooding you with its spirit—and your being at the mercy of that, not able to control it.
So when things get out of balance—as they are now—how does this look? You have pine beetles in massive numbers saying "look." You have new diseases. You have earthquakes, tidal waves, hurricanes, and lava spews. These are not punishment. These are someone trying to get your attention.
Cathee sometimes calls Old Man an etheric volcano that's spewing. And she feels like she's gotten burnt by it. It feels forceful to her. She's feeling compelled to channel right now, in fact. This is balance being restored.
There's a gift in all this. With humans trying to control things and externalize existence to the point of trying to cut it off from its internal roots, nature is reaching around in the external to meet the extreme expression of the humans. And just as it's meeting you externally, it's meeting you in your inner experience also—what may feel forcefully. It's waking you up there. This is a new power. Humans are losing free will in this shift, and nature is developing more free will. That means Old Man has more ability to touch people in their hearts—in their internal worlds.
Cathee has felt there are so many nature spirits wanting to speak through her, that it's hard to feel a sense of self. Her oneness with them has crashed in on her. And Old Man, who has always been charged with keeping the nature/human balance viable, is coming alive in human experience in a way that we don't think he would have in millennia past. He's been the holder of a balance between the realms—between the dreamtime and the external, and between nature and human. And if humans don't choose willingly to find balance, he reaches for you. It's the most sensitive that feel his touch, of course.
So in channeling Old Man, it's like the fingers of the mountain are going out through Cathee, pushing like a tidal wave energetically, saying "I want to touch anybody I can." And it's not like there's a specific message. It's like a backwash or an undertow saying "there's an imbalance here." Nature must be met in consciousness. The matrix—the dance partner itself—is coming more into its own expression to balance the human expression.
It's exciting that humans have done quite an act, by taking external expression to the point where it's a base from which internal expression is being changed. The dynamics of the flow from seedtime to expression that has cycled and cycled and cycled are in a crisis point as the external tries to control the internal. This crisis—this new development in the history of the world—is now sparking a change in the way nature is nature that you've never seen before on this planet, although it's an echo of things that have happened in other places in your universe. This time on Earth is an extremely rich time to be a human if your calling is to work with nature. You're getting to participate in the evolution of your dance partner. You're helping nature to birth itself as a new kind of consciousness that can be very proactive, not just reflective.
Chaos can be creative, and you're in a chaotic place right now. What does this mean for Old Man? It means that Old Man needs you like he's never needed humans before in his evolution.
A sensitive, subtle interaction between humans and nature consciousness has always taken place there. It's an interface space. It sits where the town meets the wilderness. The national park reaches down to Old Man, and the city reaches up the other side. Very symbolic.
In subtle interactions with Old Man, many people have assumed that this ancient mountain was wise, knew what it was doing, and didn't need them. They were just another human among the thousands who have worshipped there.
And we say no. Now nature—in the form of Old Man—more than ever needs your reflection of who it's becoming as it changes. It needs that interaction in very concrete, specific ways: of humans showing up. As it's changing, it's still interacting in love. It still wants to hold you and help you evolve too. But we're in a chaos field now, where the old ways of doing things are out. And yet it's from those traditions that the new is springing.
Old Man is no more in control of himself than you are of yourself. But together, if we can bridge human and nature consciousnesses—holding fast to each other in love as well as in oneness—we will birth a new world.
Old Man Mountain table of contents
©Cathee Courter and Peter MacGill, photos and text.
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