2 posts tagged “gregg braden”
Fractal Time: the Secret of 2012 and a New World Age
By Gregg Braden, Hay House, Carlsbad, 2009
The winter solstice of December 12, 2012 brings planet Earth into an extraordinary alignment with the center of the Milky Way galaxy. Historically, ancient seers predicted this date as the end of one age and the birth of a new Eden. Our planet, in its solar system orbit, is at the end of two cycles, maybe more—the end of a galactic cycle and the end of a geologic cycle. [Drunvalo Melchizedek in
Serpent of Light, Beyond 2012 writes about the end of Earth’s Kundalini cycle in India and Tibet and its movement to the Andes in Peru.]
Since 1980, our planet has been experiencing end-time effects—natural disasters, hurricanes,
floods, droughts, tidal waves and fire. Braden compares where we are in our world cycle to past
cycles; the most recent geologic cycle was 1155 BC, the decline of Egypt.
Fractal Time
is rich with facts and information. The inside dust jacket states the essence of this book: "The key to our future lies in the wisdom of the past." Gregg Braden spent twenty years researching Mayan, Hopi and Tibetan wisdom as well as biblical and oral traditions. Multi-cultural wisdom, coupled with recent scientific findings, bring the author to the conclusion that 2012 may be a process rather than an event.Braden writes about two scientific discoveries that open the process of a new Eden. 1)Scientists have documented that the human heart generates a doughnut shaped magnetic field that is five thousand times stronger than the field of the human brain. 2) A Global Coherence Monitoring System senses changes in the earth’s magnetosphere. Two extraordinary changes in the Earth’s magnetic field were recorded on different days and different years – one on the day Princess Diana died and the other on 9/11, the terrorist attack on the twin towers in New York. Braden’s book states that . . ."strong collective emotion has a measurable impact on the earth’s geomagnetic field." [Pg. 195] Heart based living will have a direct effect on how six point five billion people
experience 2012.
Fractals are repeating patterns found in nature—the spirals in atoms, DNA, pea tendrils, sunflowers, whirlpools,
hurricanes and galaxies. Antarctic and Arctic ice samples also show patterns. Previous planetary cycles reveal both global warming and the melting of polar ice. Our planet is changing, and change is a catalyst for spiritual growth. Braden suggests that if we shift the way we experience our selves and our world by seeing 2012 as a window of possibility and a choice point, we can shift into an age of love and cooperation. The Hopi say, "When prayer and
meditation are used rather than relying on new inventions to create more imbalance, they [the people of Earth] will also find the true path." [Pg. 187] (Using heart, prayer and ceremony is also the message of Rainmaker’s Prayers, Align with Global Harmony.)
Through his book, Fractal Time, Gregg Braden offers us hope as well as a recipe for the future. By accessing the silent language of the heart, human beings can solve the problems of our changing planet. Imagine living, thinking and acting as a world-wide family.
SPIDER RESCUE
A personal narrative
Early dawn, I stumbled to the bathroom and found a flat, brown spider scrambling around the bottom of the sink. It wasn’t the usual oval gray, daddy-long-legs whose wispy webs wave across the ceiling, curtain rods and windowsills of my cottage. It was a hobo spider.
“Well, Miss Arachnid,” I said, watching the rhythmic tap of her limbs, “Did you fall into the sink or crawl up the drain?” Yes, I’m an eccentric who talks to spiders.
My visitor’s mouth appendages, “pedipalps,” resembled both pronged forks and pincher claws—useful tools for nibbling my flesh. But with its claw-like mouth paws, the spider is busy munching gooey green toothpaste; much like my friends eating basil-pesto pizza—heads bent, lips abutting cheese, finger tentacles shoveling in mushrooms, pepperoni and sausage.
“Do you want to go back down the drain?” I question the creature. I’m rarely this chatty at 6 a.m., but I want to help. My spider is an amputee—four legs on one side, three on the other, one limb lost perhaps in her efforts to escape the slippery basin.
“Shall I play God and send a deluge?” No answer. To avoid the croak and reincarnate option, I decide not to brush my teeth and let the spider be. I suspect life choices for arachnids differ from those for Homo sapiens. I’ve read that by the time a human being makes conscious choices about life and death, he or she has reached a transcendent or enlightened state.
I know nothing about the spiritual evolution of arachnids. A biologist friend once told me “all organisms gather information and make choices.” He hopes everything will evolve to the place of doing no harm.
Where do spiders come from, I wonder? A mythology book told me that long ago, a Greek woman named Arachne challenged the Goddess Athena to a weaving contest. The goddess dealt with the dare by turning the woman into a spider, and since then there’s been a
worldwide escalation of the eight-legged weavers. Although spiders live everywhere, my slice of the Oregon rainforest is prime habitat.
By eight o’clock I really needed to brush my teeth. However, the spider still crawled about in the sink. “OK, Miss, this is your relocation phase.” I scoffed at myself for the time I spend rescuing spiders, worms, snails and slugs. Do I have some neurotic save-the-critters compulsion? Where, I wonder on the Karpmann triangle of victim-rescuer-perpetrator does human-insect intervention play out?
From past experience, I knew that this spider could return from its lair and bite me in my sleep. I’ve also learned that by asking nature for guidance, a co-creative safety is offered to me and to the creature in question.
In the kitchen I grabbed a glass and an index card—my bug trapping equipment. Back at the bathroom sink, I cupped the glass around the spider and slid the card underneath, allowing time for the critter to scramble onto the flat surface. One shaky move from me and the arachnid could bite. Its mouth-claws appeared eager. Finally, I raced the captured creature to the door. Outside, on the porch, I tipped the glass and Miss Arachnid slid into the hydrangeas.
“Where will you go?” I asked. “To a new home? A new mate? Or will you return, called back by instinctual longing to lollygag in the bottom of my sink?” Spiders rarely give up their habitat.
Driving to work I wondered if I had left the spider in the sink, would it have acquired new climbing skills? Would its survival need, over evolutionary time, have helped the species of arachnids develop suction cups on their feet, like spider man, thus enabling future spiders to leap out of slippery sinks?
Had this spider been caught in the web of my life, I wondered, or were we both part of a universal network, what Gregg Braden calls the “Divine Matrix.” Friends think I spend too
much time thinking about such things and that I should worry instead about global warming or the war in Iraq. But I believe the microcosm affects the macrocosm. When we offer compassion on a small scale, ripples of kindness flow out to the larger world.
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