What it feels like to me is a silver cord between us. It's like I'm pregnant with you. It feels to me like a silver cord between us personally—not just with my parallel, but between us personally. And I don't know if people always in a big leap will have a host like this. I imagine not. I imagine ours is what we need to do. But I do feel like this is a natural way to do it.
So I am on some level always aware of you. And I'm fine with that. It's not like I'm feeding you. There the pregnancy example breaks down. I'm not feeding you. But I'm aware of you. And I love you.
You feel like I hardly know you, but I don't feel that way at all. You feel almost like an alternate life to me, although you are in a female body with different parents. I told you I've only been aware of you for a month or two, watching you. I think I would have to reassess that. I think on other levels, our parallels have been close enough to have had a lot of bleedthrough. And so I've probably been very close to you for a very long time and not known it. We just needed to build a bridge across the river. We've been neighbors (laughs), especially when you've been up in the woods.
Well, I think it's like your past life Wameewa, who has been kind of a shadow there for you. Someone you don't really focus on very much, but she's very much a part of your consciousness, and your close we. I think I have been too.
I also think that a lot of your idea of your having a parallel world institute has been a bleedthrough from our Institute for Parallel Exchange.
John [who has scouted ahead]: This is what I see on Jonathan's parallel. They have amazing indoor gardens—like botanical gardens, except they live in them. The dome shape has been refined to where it's specially shaped to fit the auras of the people who live there, and what they are about—what they want to explore. You've been told that everybody's aura looks the same shape. That's just not true, at least on this parallel. And of course, the colors aren't the same in everybody's aura. People of the same or compatible colors tend to want to live together. So you see certain colors defining certain communities. Earth tones, or fire tones. People just feel comfortable living in the same home with people of similar colors, of similar shape, of similar elements. The whole town has diversity in it, but everybody's home has a certain emphasis. In that kind of environment, they bring in the plants that resonate with them.
They've got exquisite ways of retaining heat in their home, that I don't think I could even describe to you. There's a lot of glass, a lot of wood, a little bit of stone—not a lot of stone. Well, some people have a lot of stone, it depends on the people. But everyone that I can see has plants that are like friends. Like pets here. Everybody has a dog here, but everybody has plants there. And they see that as essential, especially in the winter, even for the air supply. Their homes are really tight, so that's how they keep an air supply going, an oxygen balance.
They don't have architectural diversity like Tudor style, New England style, or Southwestern style—those kinds of artifices that you see in many towns anywhere in the country on this parallel. It's more that the house really fits the people who live in it.
If you have a family with three fire signs and a water sign, it's hard to design the house for both. The water sign person might gravitate over to their relatives' house and spend a lot of time there if it's more compatible with their own energy. It's very common for there to be kids that aren't always sleeping at home at night with their own parents. But their relatives often in that case live very close. And they may all eat together anyway.
Cathee: With the parallel split-off of me that's going on ahead, will we feel less full, because we're not together?
Leapers: She may feel that way. But you are still together. We think you'll still feel very close, and feed each other. You're still a whole. You're not as split as most split-offs may feel, because you intend to come back together.
John: Cathee, you're looking at the light coming in through the hot pink shawl in your window. There you may keep a few curtain shawls around of different colors than the ones you really like, so that visitors can feel welcome. And it's easy to see what colors people would like, because that's what they wear. It's not a deerskin outfit kind of place. There's a lot of color in everything. Even couches—nd yes, they do have them. And artwork.
The artwork tends to be done by everybody, not just artists, although there is such a thing as an artist. They're often commissioned to decorate a building in common, especially if it has a public function, more than you would find their artwork like in somebody's bedroom. You would find somebody's own artwork or their loved ones' artwork in their own bedroom, if there's artwork at all in terms of painting or sculpture.
But every home to me seems like an artwork, and a very unique one. There are people who specialize in building, but the process of deciding what to build is very attuned to the person. It's kind of what you were trying to get going here, but haven't really gotten Conscious Building off the ground. It's amazing, Cathee, how so many of the ideas you've been playing with the last five years are full-blown concepts there. Especially your relationships with nature beings. You're going to be so happy there.
When I said they have year-round plants inside, you think of tropical plants like you have inside, not daisy and columbine. There they have daisy and columbine inside in the winter. There's still the seed cycle through winter. It's not like there are several bloomings a year. But the green plant does not die in the winter. The stalk may dry up and the seed fall. But many plants that you see outside in the summer you see inside in the winter. There are also more trees and big shrubby things inside. They don't shun bringing tropical plants up here, especially if they're food-bearing plants. But they like to have especially their allies with them year-round, if that works for the plant. And it does work for a lot of plants. Because, like, columbine you would find even in southern New Mexico, I would guess. It's got quite a range. You know, you find daisies in the deep South where they're there all year. It may be a slightly different species that you would have inside than outside. I don't know, I haven't lived there yet. I'm sure they'll tell us.
Tt first glance, I'm just amazed at how what they've got there is Conscious Building. Everything you ever dreamed it would be.
Every door to the outside is a double door. There's an atrium. A door and then a small hall and then a door, if not two of those. They really try to keep the air inside the house inside the house. It almost feels like a little eco-system inside the house. They grow quite a bit of food in their living rooms. In fact, you might say their living rooms are gardens.
There are elaborate ways of catching snow and rain. In the first place, they build in a place that makes that easy. There's almost always a river or a spring right near a clan, where they've built. They practically run the stream through their homes, in a rather controlled way. And you would think that they have hot springs. I think your love of baths may also be a bleedthrough. Actually, that's where a lot of their psychic work is done, in community baths.
It's like what you saw in Japan, with kind of a family bath. They fill up a big tub, and then everybody sits around in it. There's a lot of nudity here, without it being a problem. There are also in the winter a lot of heavy clothes. I think you'll like that too. You know, if we didn't have porn and that whole mindset, nudity is such a natural way of being. To be able to see like women's breasts not with a sex object kind of mentality, but with a mother earth mentality. It totally changes the way you see things. Nobody wears bras, I don't think, and you see women going topless, especially when they're breastfeeding. And they breastfeed their children, my gosh, for years. I think they breastfeed other women. It seems like a great exchange in the women's community. (laughs)
We in our parallel have the term blood brothers, where you cut yourself in kind of a macho way, and exchange blood. I think in this culture it's more like, when a woman has milk, she sees that as a time to bond with people by sharing that lovely fluid with those she loves. And from what I can see, it's mainly between women—you know, women who also have milk going. They drink each other's milk sometimes. Not to compete with the baby–not that much—but it's considered a really bonding, beautiful, nurturing thing that they do together. I think the men are kind of jealous of that.
When I see how it just gives everybody such, well, pleasure, but pleasure on all levels, I think it's amazing that on our old parallel women's breasts were seen as something for men to gawk at—not even to feed babies with, in my mother's case. And I don't think the women ever suckled each other, did they? I mean, did I miss something? I don't think so. It just seems so obvious here that why wouldn't you, you know? It's such a wonderful thing.
The whole lifestyle seems so much more laid back. When women are menstruating, different ones have different levels of how much activity they want. How much inner time alone, and how much community time they want. From what I can see, people respect each woman's unique feeling about what she wants to do with her own menstruation time, which may change over a lifetime. I think some women get very internal. And some need a lot of touch during that time.
I do see nuclear families for the most part. Although there are some pretty interesting exceptions to that, kind of like on our parallel. Maybe those are bleedthroughs from past lives, of other societies. But this is definitely one where there's a good chance you'll be as close to your cousins as you are to your siblings, and maybe not even distinguish between them that much if they happen to live in your community. I suspect that's more a Native American way of living, but it may have been that way over in Europe in our own our background.
I'm interested in governance, and from what I can tell—and Jonathan, jump in here any time, please, but—I think there are a lot of decisions that are made in the community. They do have elected representatives, formally elected or informally, depending on how big the community body is that needs those decisions made. Between towns you can have an elected representative to negotiate things. But in your own common kitchen you would probably just informally find who seems best suited to make those decisions - who wants to organize the kitchen, or who wants to assign chores on the farm, taking into consideration what people want to do.
There are some really amazing communes going here, that don't seem to have the hassles, bickering and fighting, or just the extreme differences that a lot of communities run into. And I think part of the secret is that they're living in their own homes that are really suited to them. I think that gives people a strong sense of belonging on Earth and feeling loved, just to have your environment very compatible with your own energy. Then when you come together to make decisions, people just know each other better. All you have to do is see what someone's wearing, what their house looks like, what kind of artwork they like, and what kind of job they're doing, yes. But also, these people are telepathic. Maybe none of that matters. Maybe they just read each other's energy. When they're coming together to make decisions, they're just so telepathic. There are the words, but they're able to read each other so much, that I think they can instinctively know what compromises are going to have to happen between two people to come to a real place of harmony. And sometimes they'll do things that seem really odd to help shift their energy to come to that place of harmony.
For instance, two families in the commune might have very different needs. One family may have a lot of kids that want the freedom to run everywhere. And you may have someone else in the same community who needs a lot of solitude and quiet. On our parallel, they would start making rules, that the kids have to be quiet at 8:00, or this is off boundaries to them, or something. But what they do on Jonathan's parallel—it's fascinating. They'll find a way to try to harmonize the need for noise and the need for quiet, without rules per se. They may change . . . well, you know, the obvious is to have the kids' family live farther away from the quiet family. And since there's a lot of open woods, you may just see them building a house farther away. But there are other things that we would call feng shui that they may try to harmonize the energies. Like, they may redecorate the kids' rooms in much quieter shades—specially their bedsheets—so that they quiet down at night. They may have the kids get up earlier in the morning, and go run off that energy. Like if the quiet family are night owls. And the loud family also tend to be night owls—usually the kids are up pretty early, but the parents don't want to get up that early. But the parents may be willing to shift, at least while the kids are growing up, and get up earlier, and make their family's day an early morning to early bed kind of thing, so that the quiet family gets the nighttime quiet. They try to make it so that everybody wins.
I think I'm not even beginning to understand the mechanisms they use, and maybe Jonathan wants to jump in here.
Jonathan: Well, those seem just kind of normal to me, so I guess I'd have to know more of what your old parallel tries to do. Without looking through fresh eyes, it just seems to me logical that you would try those kinds of things.
Cathee, in a jewelry store one day, a friend of yours pulled out gemstones that matched your aura from the case. And she pulled out gemstones that matched your boyfriend's aura. And then she pulled out a stone a color that was compatible with both of you. And it happened to be the color of the pajamas you were wearing then, actually, even though you didn't really like that salmon color that much. It's interesting that that's what color you were wearing at night, when you were closest to him. So that kind of thing, we almost intuitively start doing.
Cathee: This is still Jonathan talking. Well, this is John. I guess that was John talking about my friend, and now I don't know who's talking. This is mainly John, I think.
This is Jonathan. See, this is kind of how we are. We're in a telepathic society—you know, who's talking? I don't always know who's talking. We're just collectively finding our way to a decision. And in a way, it doesn't really matter so much who says what, as it seems to in yours. To us, the main thing is, we're part of the community, and the community's making a decision. I may state an opinion early in the discussion, and as more information is shared, I may state the opposite by the end of the meeting because that's where we're going as a community. It doesn't really matter whether I have a consistent "this is my opinion." The community in that discussion is evolving. It's like we're all trying to put into words where that amoeba of the community is crawling over to. So that's our individuality, in stating what we think the community needs in our own words, from our own viewpoint. But it's not a feeling of trying to have my individual rights, and trying to get what I want at the expense of you. It really is seeing my strength as coming largely from the strength of the community.
And so, yeah, I may not end up getting all my needs met, especially if my community is quite different than me on some things. But you can betcha that if something is a serious need that's not getting met. . . . Like, say I need to eat twice as much as somebody else. Say I live a very active lifestyle. There are times when I'm doing parallel work where I just eat like a hog. I'm burning calories like crazy. Like if I'm about to bilocate—which I do quite frequently—I need fat stores on the body that stays behind if I'm going to be gone very long, because I'm normally pretty lean. If I know I'm going to be gone three days, it looks like I'm eating three days' worth of food in one sitting. I'm exaggerating, but some people will tease me that way. And so if someone who's cooking that night didn't make enough for me to do that, they'll usually realize it when they see me stuffin' food down. And they can tell if I'm trying to hold back because obviously there's not enough on the table, and I don't want to eat somebody else's portion. They'll almost invariably say, ah, Jonathan, you need more, don'tcha? And they'll go cook it for me. Or they'll bring out fruit or extra whatever. We keep a lot of snacky stuff around. There's a lot of baking going on all the time, and always extra treats everywhere. So it's not hard to give me more.
In my whole lifetime, I've never known us to not have plenty of food. It changes greatly by the season, though. And some people really like, for instance, winter squash, and some people don't. I mean, some people do suffer a little bit. Their body just isn't attuned to certain kinds of food, and we do our best to supply dried food for them that is more their thing. There's a great variety in what people prefer, although we're pretty much stuck with the seasons and what even in a greenhouse will do better in the winter or the summer. Or what will do well growing in your living room. Some people have sunny homes with no trees around, and some people are off in the forest, so there's a big variation there too.
I think we are like animals in the forest. You know, the squirrel has his home, and the rabbit has her home. But the tree falls down, or the forest changes—there's a forest fire or something. There's always re-homing and renegotiating. If there's a major change, and we have to accommodate different people, we try to relocate or rebuild. Like if there's a birth in the family, or someone moves back to the community, or someone moves away. I think it's like a forest ecosystem. We really try to rebalance, and not have too many squirrels and not too many rabbits. To have a balance, and yet to get everybody's needs met for a healthy forest.
We do the best we can. And it's not perfect. I have a feeling that even out in the woods, you know, the birds are every spring having to rebuild the nest, and I don't think they always get the perfect location. They do their best. They see what's available, and they make their choices. You know, you do what you can.
We're not hunter/gatherers. We're definitely farmers. We're vegans, I guess you'd call it. We do do milk and eggs. Like John told you, we do human milk too. (laughs) I think more kinds of milk are common in our communes. We don't have huge dairy herds off isolated. We're more likely to have our own goats or something. It's not corporations. It's probably more like Cathee's grandparents did. Out on their own little farm, they might have their own chickens for themselves and their family. We might have chickens for our community.
I'm talking about community meals because that's what we do in our clan, in the community where I live, where Peter, Cathee and John are coming. Not a lot of people just do the nuclear family meal thing. In some places you'll have bigger community meals. At our community meals, we've got usually five to ten families. Every year it seems like we have a different number living in very close proximity. Of course, I am very connected with my work, with the Institute for Parallel Exchange. Right now we've got about seven families. Kind of eight—you know, one couple's grown children seem to come back and forth. Sometimes they're there, sometimes they're not. They do a lot of treks and they're gone a lot. Of the let's say seven or eight families here that are in my pod, six of us are very intimately doing the work of the Institute for Parallel Exchange. We are the journeyers. We are actively welcoming ideas and people, whether they bring their bodies or not. A lot of work happens with people who are at various levels of manifestation. This kind of telepathic awareness and exchange that I'm doing with you right now is very much what we build some of our structures, our special rooms, to support. And as part of that, we'll have the kinds of plants that are journeying allies there, as well as crystals and colors and . . . I don't know. I just take these things for granted. I don't even know what to tell you about.
Like, in the room that I'm in right now there's running water. I find that that's very helpful for me. I'm not always aware of it. And it's not a pumped thing. It's just water running through the room. I've diverted a stream outside, so it's trickling through, on the floor level. There's some beautiful moss there. And some crystals I have selected. Some have come from other places. Most are just beautiful rocks I've found around here, or brought from certain locations in order to connect those locations to here. That's mainly it. I have just a handful of crystals from other parts of the country or world. They're very valued, though. People will give a lot for a good clear crystal, because they're so useful. But we're more likely to consider our local rocks our allies. So we surround ourselves with what we truly love.
There happens to be a pyramid built into the ceiling of the room where I am. It's a seven-sided pyramid, in this particular case. It comes down. There is gold used in part of it. But I don't like a lot of heavy structure. The roof has the top of the pyramid built into it, but then the pyramid extends down into the room. I mean, the whole room isn't pyramid-shaped. Just a central part of the room is under that pyramid. And this is where I like to lay my body down on some comfortable cushions that are a feather pillow kind of thing with leather covers. That doesn't make sense to Cathee—the leather would squish the feathers. They're leather on the bottom, so we can slide them around on the floor. And the top kind of puffs up with the feathers, and has beautiful fabric over it.
We do import fabric. We don't grow our own. We will import that from quite a ways away. We do have a mail system, although it's not nearly as efficient as yours. I could call someone in what you would call the Appalachians and say, "I want some wool fabric," and I would probably not expect to see it for another three weeks. It's not going to be flown out. It's going to come through our weird kind of train system. We have networks of those all over.
We have a lot more track than you do. And both what you would call trucks carrying the fabric and people driving their own cabs use the same rail. They just hook in. Gravity is used a lot in the mountains, but of course across the plains that's not available. We do amazing things with solar though. I know that you think solar could never drive a vehicle. Our vehicles are very light, like what you would call plexiglass, I think. We use them often on tracks, and not in places where we're likely to run into someone. I'm sure Cathee will feel nervous when she comes, they seem so flimsy compared to the steel you're used to. Sometimes they're made of wood even. There is metal in them usually, bracing them structurally, kind of like your ski lift cabs. I think that's kind of the feel of them. I don't know what those are made out of.
So we are able to drive away from the track too. But usually tracks can get me within ten miles of anywhere I want to go. And then we have something you would consider roads leading off from there. But sometimes the roads can be pretty darn rough. You might rather take a bicycle in some of these places, just because the road is. . . . We don't have a compulsion to keep the roads perfect, so you don't usually go more than forty miles an hour on the road, even if it's a level straight shot to where you're going. But like I said, when everything is usually pretty close to a track, that's not that far to go. Not all of our trains go really fast, but sometimes they can go super fast. Like a sled, you know? I love our trains. It's not what we call them, but it's apparently what you call them.
Cathee: What do you call them?
We call them wagonloaders. I don't know why. Wagonloaders. That kind of sounds like the old-fashioned covered wagons, doesn't it?
I'd have to say, in general things tend to go pretty smoothly here. You're going to have a problem if you have a community like where nobody likes to cook, or nobody wants to volunteer to garden. You know, where you have an imbalance in what people want to do. That can be a problem. Sometimes we'll send out an announcement, like your dating ads. We'll say, "Wanted: a family that likes to raise food, but that's also interested in parallel leaping." But it's usually through word of mouth. We have so many visitors, and so many relatives of people coming by, and friends. So the universe brings us exactly who we need. I feel exceptionally compatible with everybody I live in this pod with. And yes, we use that word. Isn't that term taken from a whale pod? It's kind of funny in the mountains to use that word, I guess.
So it's my job and my desire—my fondest joy, really, to be welcoming you all. Our whole community is very aware that you're coming. They're asking me about it all the time—are they coming? You're not just going be visitors. You're going to be community members. And everybody's aware that it's going to be a very foreign parallel that you're coming from, a foreign culture. And that probably in order for us to help meet your needs, and you to help meet each of our needs, there's going to be a lot more adjustment probably than there normally is. Luckily, we all speak somewhat the same language. I think you'll catch onto our accents pretty easily. I told you we speak more British, but I imagine there's kind of a Gaelic twang to it too.
My family is ancestrally pretty pure-blooded Irish. There's a little bit else that's married in here and there, but I come from very Irish roots. I think that will help, that at least ancestrally we're all pretty similar—you, Peter, John and me. That will help a lot. I don't know how to describe why. It's very important though. The lineage is important in telepathy. It just makes it easier when you're of similar lineage. I don't know why. It does though. I do a lot with Irish kinds of places. They just feel like home, I guess. So that'll work nicely. I mean, you all bring in a touch of other ancestries, and that's good too.
On your parallel there was so much raping of Native Americans, and intermarrying because the frontier men wanted wives of any race, etc. I think there's actually more interracial marriage historically at least—Indian/white—on yours than on ours. This is my own theory—that the universe almost had to get people on your parallel to accommodate each other through mixing races. The hybrids then worked extra hard to get the two very different sides of the family to be tolerant towards each other.
But on my parallel, I don't know many people with part Indian blood. In the first place, there are fewer people. I do have good friends who are Indians, yes, and I treasure them. But they tend to live in American Indian communities. Sometimes you'll get an interesting cross, like I know one community where three Indians have married three people of different ancestry, including Italian. So they're known as a mixed race community. Their kids of course are mixed, which gives you a different cultural identity right there.
Our population is a lot smaller than yours. We have aimed for sustainability. I don't know your history that well. I've been trying to look into it. Ours was not just kind of the rejects of Europe coming over. We had a lot of visionary communities that wanted to experiment, and saw this as a place where they could do their own thing when they came over. And I feel like somehow in our history "communal" was really in. There are not a lot of factories. We do have some. But not like you had, where a lot of social problems came from poverty. We would be more like where Cathee grew up [in Iowa], with the Amana colonies. Sometimes in her childhood she would go visit the Amana colonies, that were built around. . . .
Cathee: As far as I remember they were built around a single channeler, a century ago. People followed him around with their notebooks, jotting down every word. And they still have their own woodworking—you'd call it a factory, but it was people in the community there that started it and still work in it. They're known for various craftsmanship specialties. And communal meals in the restaurants—you order one meal for the table and you all eat the same thing, or at least common bread and side dishes.
Jonathan: So that kind of visionary community-centered existence came over. And it was much more respectful of the American Indian community-centered existences. It's not like there were not scuffles and the taking of land, but it was more subtle. There weren't treaties so much as just whites moving into the neighborhood, and there'd have to be enough game for everybody. But I can't help but wonder if we had fewer American Indians to begin with. See, I don't know, because I don't know how many you had. I think the whites who did come over had different attitudes, and were more eager to learn from the land, and to learn from their native peers. And I think the natives also learned a great deal from the Europeans. It was largely Europe that came over, the same as in your history.
But we have people from all over the world here now. Which is interesting, because they tend to wander over. It tends to be more by ship rather than airplane. We do have airplanes, but most of us don't really expect to be on one in our lifetime. We'd rather have clean skies. And we would rather teleport if we can. To actually move to another country in our parallel is a big commitment, because it'll take you awhile to get there.
So even though it's odd to say this. . . . Someone on my parallel coming from Europe to visit and stay with us, say, for the summer, which happens often in the summer. It's like your parallel—when the weather's glorious here in the high mountains, everybody wants to come visit us. And you know, they do. (laughs) But that's maybe not that different than you jumping parallels in the level of commitment, the time it takes to get here, and the cultural change.
Well, OK, so it's very different. Energetically what you're going to have to do is going to be very different. But I'm just saying that we are—especially in my unusual pod—used to people coming physically from a long ways off, and knowing that they're going to have to acclimate. And we expect to spend a lot of our time helping people acclimate. Helping them be comfortable here, and just sitting around listening to them, hearing where they've come from.
There probably are pods that have more your lifestyle of people working nine to five (or whatever hours make sense for them). Our community is very flexible. We're very right-brain, to say the least (laughs). And heck, if somebody whose turn it is to cook says, "You know, I really need to spend time in isolation this week," somebody else will step in and do it for them. We want everybody to shine. We want everybody to get their needs met, and to become the most beautiful person they can. And we're very aware that sometimes someone may go through a spell that lasts a year where they just don't even want to participate that much in the community. They're doing a private retreat or something. Or, people will commit to each other, and just the two of them want to be alone. Or just want to see if they want to commit to each other, and want to be alone together, and not have community meals. Some really creative things come out of couples dropping out for a year. They still live in close proximity, but try their own thing.
We had one family that is no longer with us that decided their purpose was to adopt children who needed a home. They intentionally took in kids from quite a ways away, both culturally and physically distant. So they had a family of about twelve, which was really unusual for us here. We have one or two kids, usually, so that really changed the nature of our community. But it was them doing what they wanted to do, and what they felt their calling was to do. And so of course, we were all like, yeah, do it. But we knew that it would certainly change the flavor of the place, and it really did. That's that example John gave earlier about kids making noise and other people needing it quiet. I'm the one that needs it quiet when I'm doing a lot of telepathic work, and these kids were everywhere. But we worked it out. Pretty much. I kind of absorbed some of these kids. Some of these kids in their teens were incredibly talented, so I just tried to bring 'em in and get 'em going here. And some of them were amazing.
So we try to have the attitude that if there's a big change, it's got something good for all of us in it. It doesn't always seem to be that way, but that's how we try to look at it.
I mean, we have our problems. And our pod probably has more problems than the more settled communities, because there's so much change all the time here.
You're asking what kind of artwork we have. We did develop the painting tradition in the Middle Ages too. We have paint. And we have kilns. We tend to make our own pottery. So there's a lot of that kind of artwork around. But we do a lot of what you would call landscaping—indoor landscaping that's very beautiful. And just the materials we build our homes of are beautiful. And the architecture. There's beauty everywhere you look.
For clothing, we tend to import fabric from other parts of the country. We don't grow cotton here. We don't skin a lot of deer, and do a lot of tanning. But more than you do. You can buy leather goods very easily here, and a lot of them are locally produced. We don't tan our own hides in a fire like the ancient Indians did. We have people who specialize in tanning hides. And they probably do use some chemicals to do that, but we try to keep things generally as natural as we can. In other words, they don't just build a fire and use the ash. But the chemicals they do use probably are pretty biodegradable. I'm not really up on tanning to tell you for sure. Almost everything you see is biodegradable. I mean, rocks are too, I suppose.
I think your vision of biodegradable clothes and natural dyes is very limited. Not everything is brown. We see sunset colors as being natural colors too. And you know how out in nature, like in the fall, look how beautiful the colors are. I think we've learned to work with natural dyes much more efficiently than you have, and natural fabrics. We have beautiful things. Just beautiful things. Stained glass that's awesome, awesome.
Look at what they did in the Middle Ages. They had clothes, they had cathedrals, they had stained glass. And they did it pretty naturally, you know? I mean, ultimately everything is natural, even lead, even oil.
We do not have the combustion engine. We never went there.
Cathee: Wow, that blows my mind.
Jonathan: I don't know of anywhere I've been where the buildings are more than five stories high. And I think I've only heard of buildings seven stories high anywhere in the world. Like, why would you do that?
Our population is much smaller. I wish I knew when we split off. The more I look at the differences between us, it must have been quite a ways back. I think it must have been before the population explosion. I'm picking Cathee's brain that when potatoes were brought to Ireland, that's when their population explosion happened. I wonder what year that was.
When you start tracing parallels back, the lineage for anybody goes across many different parallels. There's usually not just one split-off and then we've been this way for a long time. There are so many split-offs. That's why I don't try to exactly track. But you might say there are parallel clusters that went in similar directions, and then split off in similar directions. And then got a little more different, a little more different. So at what point do you consider a split-off being your and my split-off? Now we're coming back to a sense of throwing a wrench in the whole genealogy there of split-offs. You're marrying a cousin—I guess that would be the analogy. (laughs) A cousin culture that's gone a very different way.
If we were to, in a very detailed way, try to map when you started coming over, I'd have to start back, like when did you first dream up this Conscious Building stuff, Cathee and Peter? And when did you start seeing your vision of a temple or a retreat center that you would build some day, that probably exists on our parallel? It may be where I'm lying right now, what you were seeing. When did you first hear about parallel worlds, way back? All those are steps that brought you here. All your allies who want to leap with you are bringing you here. The journey started a long ways back. Moving to Colorado. Finding Old Man Mountain.
No, it's not called Old Man Mountain now. But it is very powerful. There's a lot of power around here. We see Old Man Mountain as an ET landing pad. (laughs) Literally, sometimes. Especially the saddle.
from A Beautiful Parallel Culture to:
Part Three of Parallel Worlds Leap Manual
Intro to Parallel Worlds Leap Manual
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