“No more doom and gloom, folks. Showtime is upon you. Welcome to the matinee.“
March 21, 2008
Before the coming dunking in the lake of light, we would like to do a bit of dramatic entertainment. May we have an audience? Will you allow us to perform for you a piece we call Improvisation? We think you’ll enjoy it. Lo and behold, what light through yonder window breaks? It is bold of you to ask. Since you do, know it is the light of a new day. Take that to mean what you will. From the heart of the fond lover of you, our mother, the galaxy, pours a torrent of light. When you finally are fully drenched, you will be new beings. The gods will have returned. Our drama song and dance is something like “A Day in the Mind of God, a Night of Tremendous Memory”. No more doom and gloom, folks. Showtime is upon you. Welcome to the matinee.
We present to you three travelers, each representing a separate constellation of ideas about reality. Person number one is called Mortal Man. He is characterized as a fatalist, one who lives by the dictum, “You live, you die, then you feed the worms.” Lean and lanky, he trudges, mumbles and fusses and occasionally says something brilliant. He only wears black. Person number two is called Master of Ceremonies. He is fast and slick, arrogant and sly, a dry bone. Always dressed to the teeth, he makes grand gestures and helps himself to the spotlight. He always wears London designs. Person number three is called Mental Clarity. He is high and low, back and front, everywhere at once. Answer nonsense to Mental Clarity and you’ll find yourself at the receiving end of a barrage of logic designed to set you straight. He only wears cashmere and silk and always carries a sense of sarcasm as a walking-stick. That is the cast of characters. Now, the setting: It was a dark and stormy night, and not a creature was stirring. The stage is bare except for an entryway, a bench and a sign that says “Please, under no circumstances should you be anywhere else but here.” It is more like a coffin than a womb in darkness, yet the name of the place is Home. We begin.
Enter, stage left, Master of Ceremonies. He spins and gestures and seeks an audience. Seeing you, he begins to make his speech, center stage, under the spotlight.
M of C: Esteemed colleagues, you are most welcome to hear my words of great importance. A Pleiadian man has just been interviewed on family prime time television this evening, and you have no idea what to make of it, do you? Hm? Well, I do. So if you will give me your undivided attention for the foregoing time, I will tell you how this most amazing conference proceeds to darken our skies, uh, I mean, proceeded. Now, many of you are unfamiliar with the term “Pleiadian”. Rest assured, he under no circumstances means us any harm. At least that’s what he said. Rather, he says he comes to nurture peace in our world. We’ll see.
M of C sits on a bench. Enter Mortal Man, stage left.
MM: Well, it’s the end of the world. All of the best-laid plans, blah blah blah. We’re screwed. I don’t care, let ‘em come. Quick, though; I don’t want to suffer. They’ll probably dissect me. Oh, and eat me! I hope they choke. Maybe they’ll be the friendly kind, though… Doesn’t matter, life’s over as we know it. Time to move on to a new world, eh? Well, so what?… Maybe it’s better than this one… Keep it, you “space brother”, you. I don’t want any part of your nefarious plan to take over the world. So push off, hear?… Maybe we do need the help… I don’t know… What’s going to happen?
MM wanders over to the bench and sits beside M of C, who has busied himself reading a newspaper and ignores him. Enter MC, stage center.
MC: Well, whaddya know? They finally landed. It’s been a long time, but they finally came. All the speculation is over. And they’re not little green men, after all… or grey. That guy on TV looked kinda like my cousin Bob. Huh. Well, Capitol is probably quite frantic right now. Bring on the mothership, boys! Beam me up, I’m ready to leave this godforsaken rock! Yessiree, right on schedule. Things are going to get very interesting now. Certain people won’t like it, to be sure, but what to do? They’re here. They’re here!
MC walks around, looking up.
MM: What are you doing, looking for aliens?
M of C: You have no authority to seek audience with them. Go back home and watch it on the news.
MC: A man with no desire for contact is a man who robs himself of sanity.
MM: Contact or conquest?
M of C: Conquest, schmonquest, nothing to see here, folks. Now please go home.
MC: I’m trying to, can’t you see that?
MM: Are you an alien?
MC: Who, me? Sometimes I feel like it. No, I’m as human as you, Jack. Flesh and blood.
M of C: Are you still here?
MM: I wish I knew what was going on…
MC: Me, too.
Act One ends.
Well, what do you think? Act Two is on the way. Meanwhile, Act One baffles you. Make a little room for us to visit you and you’ll see a preview of Act Two. Men of light are waiting in the wings. On cue, they will enter and commence contact. A mystery unfolds. Are you sitting at the edge of your seat yet? Soon you will be.
We don’t say anything more specific for good reason. You don’t need to know when. It is coming. It is anticipated. You have asked for it and now you demand it. We are happy to nearly answer you in person. Know that we are aware that you have been hearing this for a long time. A long time. What is different now is your ability to love and your ability to create peaceful dialogue between neighbors. We have waited a long time too, our brothers. Yet you are ready, so contact is inevitable. Not least nor last, naturally, have you shifted your ability to love. In the very smallest joys, big shifts occur. Be patient a little bit longer. We approach.
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