Monthly Archives: May 2010

The Unification of Consciousness

Sometimes I feel as if I am spitting in the wind and that no-one is the least bit interested in what I am thinking, doing and saying. When my stats. droop, charity shopping returns. Then something happens that tells me that I am being smiled upon by the spirit that ever was and is. So another step is taken and my confidence returns. Then I remember that I am on a mission.

On Friday I found a tracksuit in deep chocolate brown, sitting there on the rails of Tenovus, our local cancer charity, saying size 14, £4.50. The label said Made in Italy and the material felt expensive. It was only when I checked the trousers that I saw the label Giorgio Armani-not even Emporio Armani, the diffusion line. I paid my money with shaking hands and took it home, without a plastic bag, of course. Even draped over my arm it felt glamorous. It was ages before I plucked up the courage to try it on, in case it didn’t fit. I really need to have more faith! Of course it fitted- as if it had been made for me, which I suppose in a way it had been.

The feeling of connection that I got from that find is a direct hit of origin, and it is this, magnified and intensified, that will one day supplant the resident feeling of confusion that gives our world its characteristic stamp. The fact that I feel it at all indicates that I am already part of the integrity that is always origin and present. It is a wonderful feeling and I’d like it to be a more common experience.

I am now exactly half way through The Ever Present Origin by Jean Gebser and already the world has taken on a special new glow. It is as if I have been catapulted into the third act of an opera and am part of the build up to the finale. Everything is now taking on the form of an arrow pointing ahead to something momentous; something that we are each one of us going to be involved in.

I hope we manage to make the necessary changes in time, for the sake of  my grandson, Archie and his whole generation. No one mentions the babies when they talk about the shift we are preparing  for. I trust they will make the necessary adjustments through their mothers. With Mimi as his mother he is in good hands and even though she wants to know nothing of this now, she will be ready when it comes.

We are living the conclusion. To make the transition, some would call it the flight, we must know the origin as present. This is experiential, so is difficult to explain in words. It means living and dying in the whole; in integrity. This in itself involves being present at all times. As we live in proliferating chaos, this isn’t easy. We each create our bubble (lies I suppose Dr Rowe would call them) but those bubbles are part of a spatial world; a bursting spatial world.

A new perspective is forming to help us to escape from the consciously realised external world of matter. There within that perspective is the possibility of a space-free world. No, I can’t explain it any more clearly than that, as I haven’t the words and we haven’t been here before, so it’s not a question of history repeating itself. We are living through a new event and we, each one of us, is responsible for realising the next incrementation.

First we must know where we are and that we are here in the world to sustain it. This involves being active; freed like snakes from our tight and outworn skins we must move through this transient age into the new. To do this we must learn to live our lives consciously, looking all the time into ourselves to find the principle of life and thus creating our flight deck through individual soul work. But we fly together.

We are being shown the way, not through words which is impossible, but through glyphs. Whoever is putting the crop formations in the fields, they are showing us the direction that we need to take. Only by uniting the consciousness of everyone will we make the necessary transition(flight).

We are moving through the individual, into the expanded and will be arriving, hopefully, in the united. Our motto is a suitably Obama- sounding Together we can do it. It is time to move away from cynicism and skepticism. What is happening is too big for that. We are bursting out of our rationalist skins into something freer and finer and in so doing realising the purpose of the Universe.

If you are interested in what I’ve said above, check out the website of Dr Victoria Popova and Dr Lidia Andrianova, two Russian scientists who have been working on the mechanism of consciousness for fifteen years and are convinced that crop circles are emergency symbols that point to the fully defined future. Their website is They even provide translation.


The Gene Machine

There’s been a subtle shift of desire chez Allbright this week. One that I need to confess to, as it feels a little shameful. Daniel Craig has been too long absent and my faithless thoughts have alighted on Gene Hunt. Not the actor that plays him note, but Gene Hunt, the man with the Bowie soundtrack.

“Take that you dyke-digging tosspot. You killed my car,” he yelled, while pumping bullets into the baddie in the last ever episode of Ashes to Ashes. It still makes me smile as I run it across my tongue. A nice turn of alliteration has Gene, but why the attraction, Allie? After all he’s a misogynistical, racist, foul- mouthed copper; not your type at all. Ah but wait…

I didn’t come across the Gene Machine until the final four episodes, so I’ve got a winter of catching up to do, as I visit for the first time the whole of Life on Mars and I believe three series of Ashes to Ashes.  I fell for the man very quickly. It would appear that I’m not alone in my obsession, though I’m not terribly keen on being aligned with a group that call themselves Hunt’s Housewives.

Being with Gene in my head is rather like having a dream that you long to return to. With his pock marked face, so like that of my adolescent desire, Richard Burton, and that lost, far- away look in his eyes, if you manage to catch him in a less hyperactive moment, he provides a lovely feeling of estrangement, of a distance that draws one in. He’s obviously not a man to fall for a waifish young  mantrap either. By his own admission, he likes a woman with measure, who looks like a prostitute. I can do that.  A woman with mystery, looking out from dark eyes that suggest a thousand years of burning incense. I can do that too. In return he would be a  man to throw me enough curves to keep me on my toes, feed me chips out of newspaper and give me the unexpected glints of danger I desire. And safe with it too, because when I’ve had enough I can put him back in the box and file him away. Perfect.

Is that the lie I tell myself to keep my world from crumbling? Dorothy Rowe was promoting her new book Why We Lie in town this week and I went along with Bertram to check her out. It was a short, disappointing lecture but I got the gist. I tell my fantasy story all the time. It is the map that I use to traipse across my allotted years, but I don’t see the tales I tell about myself as lies. I accept the bleakness of the future of this planet, that it’s all going arse over tit and we’re all going to lose our savings and a lot more besides, when we make the leap in perception that saves the day, whatever that is.  The Warren might be cosy but it’s no safer than anywhere else when push inevitably comes to shove. I know about The Uncertainty Principle and live it daily, riding the wave, shouting Geronimo as I go(but not out loud). I know Climate Change is real and we are already in the sixth extinction. So I don’t lie about the big things.

But boy do I fantasise about the details. I’m a beautiful, passionate woman with a few years’ wear left in me. I’m always learning and full of life and desirable. But to whom?  Not to Sylvester that’s for certain. Three dates and an abortive attempt at intercourse(horrid word but that’s what it was-no transcendence there) I can see the error of my ways. I didn’t take his story into account, as I was concentrating so hard on making up my own. Will I never learn? There’s no relationship there. I’ve checked the seed and there is no oak tree within. It’s but a weed I’m afraid. The man could have told me he was a coke-head before we went to bed. If he had I wouldn’t have taken the risk- we all know what cocaine does to male function.

I will retract for a while. Overwinter early with Gene. Work out why he turns me on. He’s even more unavailable than Sylverster after all. I may fantasise but I don’t lie to myself that anything will come of it. It’s a quiet pleasure for me, inviting these men into my life for a brief, finite and repeated fling. So why Gene? He’s what used to be called working class, rough, difficult and deep; the sort of man who if on your side makes you feel safe. The fact that in the end it transpired that he was a phantom copper sorting out troubled souls just turns me on even more. Oh to be dancing the line with a man who by his own admission doesn’t dance. Having the almost kiss, the almost smile, the almost compliment, if you can untangle it from the undergrowth of  alliterative spitting. Looking at the something else going on behind the eyes. The possibility of lifting for a moment the loneliness that lurks there, with a pathos that is never pathetic. Being with a grown up man without having to worry about the frustration of the battle of the toilet seat.

If that’s what Dr Rowe calls the dangerous act of self- lying, I can’t see that it does any real damage and it’s a lot safer than searching out a real life Hunt and having to live the painful truth. No give me the dream Gene; my imagination will do the rest.

Conduit Opening

Five gorgeous Irises have arisen from the ground during the weekend, while I have been staying in hot Dorset with Aunty Mu. Hot because of the 28 degree sun temperature outside but hot also because of Aunty’s insistence on keeping on the central heating full blast. ‘If we don’t mess with it Allie, it wont go wrong,’ she said firmly. Some years ago I fiddled with the thermostat, thinking that with limited vision she would never know. The next time I visited there was were a couple of rubber nipples glued on it so that she could feel the alignment of her choice of temperature. She’s still clever at 98 is Aunty Mu. And good company too. She spoke about the difference between east end and west end in towns in Britain and how the rich always live up west while the poor are ghettoed in the east. It’s because of the prevailing wind apparently.

Everyone was talking in church about the astonishing blast of summer on Sunday. Did you know that the British spend an average of 49 hours a year talking about the weather, which is six months of a lifetime? That’s Daily Mail statistics for you. Personally I ponder their use even if they are true.

Truth. Now there’s a big word. And not much in evidence out there. In here(touches heart) it’s a different matter. The fourth crop circle has appeared right next to the Wilton Windmill in Wiltshire. Whether it’s  a communication from the unknown or the brainchild of a clever and underemployed mathematician is not clear. It is a circle cut, pizza- like, into twelve segments with markings in each segment. By all accounts it can be decoded into a close proximation to Euler’s identity, a very elegant formula that brings together all the major foundations of mathematics. I sometimes wonder if out there somewhere there is an enlightened maths teacher using crop circles to teach the unteachable. It would be a ploy to keep bums on seats and eyes on the board, don’t you think?

Anyway it’s a formation that has created great excitement on the net, particularly in the week that a self styled UFO expert reckons that the Voyager2 spacecraft may well have been hijacked by aliens. Voyager 2 you will remember is an unmanned probe, which was launched 33 years ago with a disc containing music and greetings in 55 languages. Well, it’s been sending back signals in an unknown data format. It could be aliens of course, but it also could be a malfunctioning system. Who can tell the difference until the code is cracked?

Ditto the message in the Windmill circle which is apparently encoded in ASCII(American Standard Code for Information Interchange), which the circlemakers have used before, most famously at the Crabwood Disc Formation of ’02. Now I can’t read ASCII and I haven’t the time to learn it, so I have to take it on trust that the image to the left(thanks Lucy Pringle) says e(hi)pi)1=)0 which is as near as dammit the Euler Identity. This says nothing to me and not much more to a mathematician because there is an error in the code.

Now the circlemakers do not make mistakes. If the conduit is opening and there are messages coming through why don’t they say something clear like, ‘Go to the shops and buy some chocolate.’? Why instead give us an enigmatic and ultimately unusable equation?

I need to clear my head so I go into the garden and gaze at Iris blue. Now there is truth.  Five of them stand there, with the sunlight catching a single spider thread that crosses my line of vision. To the left, I am glad to see some bees investigating the last of the apple blossom. My garden at the Warren is a haven. Last week, as I glanced out of the window, in one single moment I could see a squirrel drinking from the pond, two ring doves on the bird table, a blackbird strutting on the grass and a robin on the statue’s head. I noticed that he, the statue I call Eric, is sinking into the soil and, like me, could do with a structural uplift.

‘Your home exudes contentment Allie,’ Dor said the other day. About time too. I’ve travelled far to come come home. Now I live the motto, ‘The answer lies in your own backyard.’ It was Omar Khayyam who suggested that life is a transformation and indeed mine has been a journey to myself and an ever increasing intensifying of what I found within.

I am realising The Living Knowledge daily. After a science century of the quantifiable, the time is coming for the immeasurable and I am preparing myself for it.  By this I mean I am working towards conscious integration, which requires the polar physical and psychic for self completion. Understanding alone will never lead to the level of integration necessary for the shift;  the heart has to be engaged. Each contains the other, an ambiguity the T’ai Chi expresses perfectly. This is the Chinese symbol of origin, the dark and the light continually in tandem each flowing into the other undivided by boundary.

Gebser says there is no such thing as the unconscious, only various intensities of consciousness; a one dimensional magic, a two dimensional mythical, a three dimensional mental and the one coming into view-the integral four dimensional whole. Only in psychic terms do symbols form the complementary whole, as unity always rests with ambivalence. This is the truth and it is a truth that cannot be reached by the rational/mental alone.

When certain interconnections come into our conscious view, they affect the way we look at them. It is in constant movement that the tension reveals the truth. Materialised time and soul need space and body for their unfolding. That is why they are there and we are here.

When we look at the manifestations in the field, even on the internet, we are intensifying our connection with the truth. It is unfolding, moment by moment and is bringing our consciousness to a new level of intensity. It is both being the process and feeding the process, thus facilitating a transformation. It doesn’t matter what the code says, the circle is and we are changing imperceptibly because of it, whoever put it there. That ultimately means that the conduit is opening.


Early one morning some time ago, I climbed into a long, thin boat with a handful of strangers and started on a journey. It was 6 am and the boatman was scrawny and clutched what looked like an inadequate paddle. The river was the Ganges, at Varanasi, and it was running fast and certainly not blue. I truly thought my end had come as the scrawny one played the currents that kept us from being swept out to sea. As I looked around I could see white bundles bobbing on the surface of the water and was convinced that I would soon be joining them on the far shore of the River Styx. There is nothing like extreme emotion to cement a friendship and the man at my side, Charlie of Derby,was no stranger by the time we both rose, very shakily, and climbed onto dry land. We still correspond.

So, obviously, I have yet to experience the moment of death but I have had so many close shaves that I feel that I have a reasonably intimate relationship with the subject. The thing that I like most about growing older is that I have time and the inclination to work on that relationship. I call it getting acquainted with Soul. I know that at the moment of death I will leave behind my body and my Allie-ness but that I will retain the essence of everything I have learned, through the experiences I have had since my birth.  Those experiences include some  scary near- death moments, scary in the feelings they induced that is (rather than how they came about). All I can say is that, as I met the chaotic disorder of trauma, I came cell to cell with something conscious beyond it and knew it as eternal. I’m glad I experienced that because I aspire, when my time comes, to do my dying with clarity and grace.

 I know that in order to ride the tumultuous wave of dying I will need a well practised soul- consciousness and for that I will need a friend, like I needed a midwife the other end of the journey. That friend is Myrtle and we have made a pact. Our mutual task will be to encourage the other to let go of  bodily feelings, like breathlessness and unease, and let awareness fly free, without resistance. We meet every so often and practise, laughing about the 50% chance that one of us is going to be disappointed with the arrangement.

On that morning voyage into fear on the Ganges, I started the preparation for my departure  and I work on my soul consciousness daily. Not only does it help me face death with less fear, it helps me to appreciate every moment of the days that I live. And on the subject of living. I have a wedding to go to next month and today I bought my outfit. Oska. Blue, like a shiver of  bluebells or the colour of soul.  A three piece; waistcoat, jacket and trousers. I feel so pleased with myself for avoiding neutral and going for such a profound and interesting colour.  The ultimate feeling blue creates is one of rest. According to Kandinsky it has majesty, melancholy and mystery. I like also Klein’s take on it being the invisible becoming visible. ‘When it sinks to black it echoes a grief that is hardly human.’ I’m sorry I don’t know who said that but sadly, it wasn’t me.

My wedding outfit felt comfortably familiar and on the way home , clutching my expensive purchases, I realised why. When I was 11 my mother bribed me into good humour about a move to the country with the promise of an outfit advertised through The Sunday Express. It was trousers, waistcoat and bomber jacket in exactly the same blue. I took to the country like the hoyden I was and ruined the ensemble on its first outing by falling off a horse  into a series of squelchy cow pats. The farmer’s wife rubbed me down but the damage was done. The blue however lives on as a motif in my life.

The Unfolding

It’s been a week of magic.

First the bluebell wood that materialised just as I had imagined it, following exactly a pet theory of mine re. form following hot on the heels of function (in this case thought) through an alignment of consciousness and matter. Then there was the spectacular unfolding of the second circle of 2010, a five hundred footer, just across the road from Stonehenge. Both creations of hazy, mysterious beauty, each marking transition. The first, from Spring to summer, the second from three to fourth dimensional living.

First the bluebell wood. I was led down a dark, overgrown lane by instinct, with Dor behind saying, ‘there’s no way through here’, ever more faintly as I followed my nose through the undergrowth. In no time I was out into a narrow road, waiting for Dor and Tottie to catch up. Then we moved down to the valley floor. At the end of the road was a cottage with a couple drinking tea at a table in their garden. Never one to let a chance of connection go by(you never can tell the angels!) I called out, ‘ You’ve got yourselves a slice of paradise here’, and in moments they were with me ready for a chat. This so often happens when people, newly in the country, miss the everyday discourse we city dwellers take for granted. We talked elections and connections and finally they gave us a route back to the village, by following the stream on the valley floor to another road and then up through a wood, across a field and back to where we started.

The scent of the bluebells hit us before we left the road. That mysterious sweetness much loved by old ladies and classic parfumiers. A scent that has always seemed to me to carry a faint whiff of death. I’ve always imagined that Hades smelled of bluebells.

And there they were, dense and oh so blue, giving a glimpse from the beyond. There is such a bevity in their stay. Hurry they seem to say, we haven’t long before the canopy of leaves locks out our life, watch us reach perfection and pouff! we’re gone. So I gave them my full attention, being present to their density and the strange intensity of their colour; royal,electric, constantly on the move between one tone and another, alive and in a rush to become completely themselves  before it is too late.

When we scrambled out of the shade into the sunlit field, I told Dor that I wished that I had brought my camera but almost instantly I knew I was glad that I hadn’t, for my eyes had seen the glory and that was exactly as it should be.  I intended to see bluebells and so it  followed that I would, however convoluted the route to them might be. My world view, with intention unfolding into reality, may sound ego-centric but in truth we are all dancing this dance on one level or another. I’m glad I choose to be awake to it.

I’m glad too that I am awake to the message of the circles. The second of the summer is here(see illustration above-thanks to Marie Asmar for her generosity).To my eyes and heart it seems to be an unfolding of the first. In this one the swathes of feathering escape the confines of the circle and dance over the field of yellow rapeseed. ‘Look at what we can do when we are released,’ it seems to be saying. ‘Out of one comes life and with life the power to form shape. This is what life is-glorious and to be danced!’

Both of this year’s circles so far contain an element of watchfulness. Both seem to be looking at me, checking that I am there.’ Are you ready to see?’  they say to me. The eyes follow me, telling of a journey that they are going to take me on, if I am receptive and up for it. Of course I am.

It’s unfolding right now before our eyes, if we choose to see. The cosmos itself forms a circle, drawing the energy for its rotation from its polarity. Crop circles give us the opportunity to lose our individuality and unite with everything. The future is present within. It is unfolding each minute, each hour, each day, each year. Such is the process of becoming; what Gebser would call the mutation into integral structure, from the straightjacket and dead- end of mere quantitative rational thought. Oh my, am I glad I signed up for the ride of a lifetime! This is what co-creation means. Be it through a bluebell wood or the interpretation of a crop formation or whatever we choose, our consciousness allows us to encompass what is to come, for the future is here within us. We not only form it-it forms us.In that sense the future is present. All we have to do is open up and receive what is unfolding before our very eyes.

A Week in the Country

I’m off for a week to the country with no laptop, no mobile, no distractions. Just Dor, Tottie and Jean Gebser of course, who explains that the future is with us at this moment and the seeds are grown in the humus of the past. Staying away from rational thought isn’t hard for me and it makes sense that we are witnessing the unfolding rather than evolution of our destiny. He warns us to be suspicious of so called progress and its resultant misuse of technology. The mutation process we are living within is spiritual, not biological or historical. As the new always meets strong opposition , it takes courage to look for what is almost here. An important point that Gebser makes is that first there was light and then the eye; first the word and then the speaking mouth; first the thought and then the cerebrum, capable of reflective thinking. Thus we move via the spiritual principle, balancing along the way the latent future with the present. All we have to do to birth the new is stay within our strictly wakeful being and remain in the present.

With this in mind I’m not reading too much into my date with Sylvester. We were perfectly happy in one another’s company, eating and talking about what has brought each of us to the present. Of course he’s read Gebser but his take on the ideas were a little too much for me. I was distracted by thoughts of what he might look like without clothes. I was also overwhelmed by the peppers in my pizza, the eyes across the table and the difficulties of being fully present, while balancing there on the edge of my understanding. We checked one another out from afar, recognised the limitations of what is on offer and made an arrangement to see one another again in a couple of weeks. That’s enough for now; we are both old enough to take our time. Time is something that I have no clear idea about, like mass. And the transformation is all about a global relationship with time.  I’ve plenty to mull over in the days ahead, as I walk through cow parsley and sit stunned by the spectacle of bluebells. There was after all a time when humans didn’t see that blue. Plenty to dwell on there. I hope by the time I return there will be more clues in the fields of Wiltshire.   (photo above by Allie)

Interesting Times

The first circle is in! On a Ley line that includes a number of hill forts and Stonehenge there it is, in canola at Old Sarum nr Salisbury. 180 feet in diameter, a circle containing six arcs, intercepted by a smaller circle, all neatly contained  within a larger. Below the arc are seven circles and a lozenge that could be interpreted as an eye. Outside the circle(at the base of the photo above by Lucy Pringle) is another tiny one. The formation is  similar to the Oliver’s Castle 07 circle that was also the first of the year in canola. In this one the conduit is open. The doorway to a higher consciousness is open, it seems to be saying-all you have to do to pass through it to see.

On the day it was reported, an Amazon parcel landed on my doormat. It contained a book that more than vibrated in my hands -it gave me palpitations. It is The Ever- Present Origin by Jean Gebser, which integrates the advanced knowledge of now with the spiritual sources of the past. It maps in a scholarly way how events create change in mankind and prophesies the great changes we are living through at the moment, identifying them as a breakdown of the old way of seeing. He states with impressive authority that if we are open minded, we become co-creators in the integral consciousness structure and thus part of the emerging world view. This is the new consciousness, that will replace the deficit mental structure- rational consciousness. The book was first published when I was a child.

We are by all acounts reaching  the long- awaited zenith of confusion, that will lead to a necessary breakthrough. We can assist the birth or we can await the catastrophe, but come it will, this change.

I have spent the last twenty years forging ahead on my journey towards wholeness, not really aware that what I was doing was part of something as huge as the Renaissance realisation of perspective. Before the 1500’s, depth of landscape didn’t exist as an idea in the minds of mankind. When it came, it was a like being catapulted into three dimensional living. Now the same sort of thing is on the point of happening and the result will be a global catapulting into the fourth dimension. Then we will all be using time meaningfully-in order to create time freedom. When the individual learns to see himself as a whole, then, as a whole person, he/she can perceive the wholeness of the universe itself. According to Gebser the divine and spiritual origin that is ever present will then be revealed.

I believe that crop circles are helping us to reach forward into new ideas, pushing the boundaries of perspective. They are meant to be felt, experienced and interpreted symbolically. They are introducing ideas that are original, wacky and weird. Vistas are opening, if only we can receive them. Universal intelligence is limitless; best receive it as a child, they seem to say. Go where nature is leading and be open to learning new ways of being and seeing.

If an idea doesn’t fit it wont have any effect, however well you speak the words. However passionate, right and real the idea might be, it has to wait its time. The progress I am speaking of is a collective event. We all have to accept it, in order for it to become real. Then a resonant interaction will take place.

Rationing is an idea before its time. It doesn’t yet seem possible that the whole of the Western world will one day accept that there is no longer an entitlement to transport, food, fuel and accoutrements and they must all be  limited. But the time will come when this can be the only option. And when that time comes, people will know what they have to do, because they will see what needs to be seen.

In this respect ideas are like lasers that work their magic through coherence. There is an affinity between energy and matter. The only part touched by the laser beam is that with a harmonious wave form. Crop circles are part of a similar process of alignment. They are leading us to a fixed point (absolute zero) which will provide a harmonic gateway into the next dimension. We will move into a new global way of seeing as profound as the realisation of perspective and it will be as if we’d never seen otherwise. These are indeed interesting times and they are set to get even more interesting. Tonight I’ve got a date with Sylvester!