I clutch my nuummite - black stone inbetween rhodochrosite and blue-green amazonite in photo above - for comfort in the hope that it drains some of the electro-magnetic radiation away. My NAS drive is on it's last legs and hums like mad. It's already really old. About 18 months. My modem zooms as per normal. My small Bose speakers growl when switched on. My desktop churns its dust around with new high pitched alarm. The tinnitus has rich pickings for its orchestra for the day. The blend of techno-noise resounds evenly, comparing to the Indian tempura, which provides the ground tone to any raga, while the neighbours' spin cycles and drilling, lawn mowing, and extractor fans join in to complete the symphony.

Ah well, that is city life and old age for you. Only I think I might be coming to the end of my thether today.

For the past three weeks my nerves have been getting an extra work-out.
The schedule is strapping, and fairly regular, unless it is not.
Generally my nerves are woken up properly before the clock strikes 7:23. Then by 7:28 they are starting to spark. At 7:49 I experience a full body meltdown. Every morning for the past three weeks (since last visit plumber) I am awoken by a high whistling, suctioning, squeaky noise that lasts only a minute or 2:03 mins max - unless it lasts 5, like it did yesterday afternoon. I was starting to relax into this routine, in the trust that after an hour of anxious anticipation and an hour more of its reverberation in my head, I would have a "quiet" day for the rest. Needless to say, all engineers, plumbers and other learned water men are clueless as to what might be causing this cacophony for me, especially since they never get to hear it.

Thrice within half an hour of short whistling is not nice when you have hyperacusis, but the killer is an additional unpredictability (since the past week) with intermittent additional occurrances of this mystery noise. What if it gets longer? What if it occurs at night? What if it never stops?

I know it has to be the sound of air filled water being sucked up (to the boiler cylinders) since the central heating is off and there is nothing wrong with the pump. But that's the only thing my engineer would be able to fix (the pump or the valves). The plumber promises to pop by one day to fix the cistern of my loo, convinced it has to be that. But it's not. I know this, and now I find myself upset with men all day, who never listen to me and think I'm an idiot housewife. As if that's the problem! Hardly a new one worth getting my knickers in a twist over.

Then what is it that really is getting me so frustrated to the point of making me want to sell up this "bad luck" house with its never ending string of plumbing issues? Phonecalls to the plumber or the boiler engineer run like a red thread through my stay on Steemit. It marks my winter and spring with a nasty sting in the tail after the renovation (already back in 2014) came with a cowboy plumber. No, renovations never end! Shall I get angry with men again?.... That's how angry I am! Generalising all over the place.

Point is though, I cannot regain control over my own living conditions. I don't know what is going on, and can't steer anybody in the right direction to help me fix it, while they are all selling me nonsense (that much I do know). I have been reading up on forums for the past four hours and know perfectly well that men suffer the same on-going hassle with their plumbing and heating and that there is nothing we can do to return to the comfort and relaxation of our own home. I am half consoled by the misery shared and my competitive zen spirit (clearly a twisty-knickers oxymoron if ever there was one!) is determined to not let it get to me as much as it gets to others; but the other half is flatly reminded by how so many of us are disturbed by constant technological, electronical or mechanical noise. We are creating a hell on earth and I want to get lost in the Grand Canyon.

left-to right wowlite on amazonite obelisque, next to morganite and disc of rhodochrosite; below: scolecite (not to be confused with selenite), tugtupite, apophyllite and a disc of lepilodite

Or Are There More Alluring Locations Farther Abreast?

Maybe the Grand Canyon will disappoint. Or at least the trip getting there will most assuredly add to my stress-levels first. Maybe, one is better off following Jaco Pastorius and go up to the roof to wait for the aliens to come and pick you up. You may laugh at one of the world's greatest late Jazz bass guitar players and point to his bi-polar disorder, leading him to an early demise due to his violent, drug-addicted, paranoid nature (died after a fight) before his true tribe had come to fetch him, but he's not the only one.

My (Sensible Swiss) Crystal Shop Lady Is Ready To Fly To Sirius

Let me explain.
Now, I expect the owner of a New Age knick-knack shop to be a bit .... let's say "alternative". Faithful followers will know that I'm rather off-centre myself. But she sure did knock me back a bit with her latest revelation (I know her for about 12 years. She's come to me for some translation work).

The Location

Every time I have visited her shop, I end up doubting whether I'm in the right line of business (the esoteric side of life).
This dimly lit den is not quite my idea of stylish shopping (for relatively costly items). It is about ten quare metres, stuffed from floor to (low) ceiling with New Age bric-a-brac (think: dream-catchers, Kwan-yin statuettes, fantasy characters [Merlin, dragons], angels, soothsaying cards, tarot decks, scented candles, Shiva wheels, bells, prayer beads, meditation pillows, yoga mats and rows and rows of incense from India and Japan, and North American Indian smudges. I leave the shop impregnated with a blend of fragrances that follow me around for days and days. I always worry about those sticks (with my aromatherapeutic know-how) wondering about how strict the regulations against producing noxious fumes in some hamlet in Mysore might not really be. In my experience the “natural ingredients” leave much room for interpretation and are quite inviting to headaches.

The Owner

Is typically garbed in a mystic aura, with jet black Medusa hair, rings on all her fingers (and toes) and a wide assortment of protective stones, healing amulets and third-eye enhancing symbols around her neck.

The Indirect Prompt

Was moldovite. God knows why I wanted to look that unspectacular mossy green crystal up (I am not too partial to green as a colour in and of itself. Working on it. But it's such a plant colour, I find I don't need it much on other fronts of my life. Or else it happens to be the favorite colour of my mother, my sister and my son....so what does it need me to like it for in addition?)

The Facts

So we looked it up in the Crystal Lady's guide book and learned it was excellent for communicating with aliens. I loosely interpreted this as the stone having qualities which would enhance cosmic awareness. But she was more to the letter on this one. After all, as a child (she is my age from the end of the sixties), she had these dreams full of aliens and space ships. They were waiting for her at night outside her window; their spaceship headlights flooding in through her curtains (I thought back to the annoying streetlight outside my own window); their voices moaning to her in a faintly familiar language (I recalled the ominously tall poplars in my garden swishing to the wind on dark nights - well, aside that lamp then). They took her on night-flights to remind her that she was not from planet Earth. She floated over rooftops and could feel the tops of trees (I was delighted to hear I was not the only one who could - partially - separate my etheric body in a dream state, not much described in Anthroposophical science as the possible - discouraged - modes of spiritual travel). The other customer who was listening in nodded with much animation: yes, yes, yes, that is exactly how children remember their true origins. Only most of us forget which alien family we belong to. Did I know mine?

My Assessment

My credibility as a sensitive and intuitive person was about to fly out of the window.
I never quite know what to make of people and their alien stories: it sounded to me like she is saying that she was air-dropped into her mother’s lap from a flying saucer. To be honest, I find it a bit of a cop-out. Hardly the spirit in which to take on the challenge to become more human, and better denizens of this amazing planet. Where's your loyalty!?

This ticks me off in no small way. I'm not a patriot, or a nationalist, and I have no friends to call my own, but I still believe in people. I still like to imagine we've got a great thing going here with this life on Earth. Humanity has potential, even if we are still living in Dark Days.

I find it scientifically holds no water and serves no purpose to map out an intergalactic humanoid presence with yet more new names. Perhaps, Anubis and Zeus, or the Atlanteans were the aliens of the day, back then; but my research places these at a tighter anthropomorphic hub serving a lower consciousness than that we have now, and unless aliens come down to push you deeper into your human nature you should feel disturbed, is my opinon. Must sound like a dispensible difference coming from one who accepts there are Hierarchies or that Lemuria preceded Atlantis! But I can't be letting "everything go" as just another version of the Truth. Call it what you like, I can read if you are taking a spiritual approach to your life or an atomic one. In this particular case I read far too much stuff and issues clouding their understanding of who they really, really are.

Children tend to make believe, invent stories to help them understand the world and abate their restrictive fears. They say religious people do the same. And the infantile ones do. But I am not persuaded, either, that all our kids see with angelic, pure eyes the way things truly are (in their spiritual nature). Their innocence is very quickly contaminated by the ether fields of their parents, families, environment. Let's not mention TV - in the seventies space age!

We end up seeing the stories we have been told (and would turn out half mad if we didn't). We acccept conventional images. But a spiritual scientist must be a solid enough thinker and thorough enough observer to translate their intuition and inspirtations (belief) into living images (as found in life). This is actually the inverse to making belief or fantasising.

---

Proof

Rounding off, let me impress upon you how sure she was of her facts.
↓ Orion

My Crystal Lady, namely, also has this strong affinity with the constellation of the hunter Orion. Every time she walks her dog at night, it shines to her most brightly, alluringly, as if to transmit special messges. I agree, it’s the one constellation I am able to identify with absolute certainty.

But she meant to point out that the Sirius star is near to it: that’s the clue. Seeing as she is from Sirius, her fellow planetarians use Orion as a message board. Ah, I get it. Yes, sort of near by, in galactic terms, that is so.
What then might they be messaging to her? I mean, loathe to pry into confidentialities, perhaps they had some important information regards saving our planet? Admitedly, I had trouble imagining what my true family would come down to bother me with. No sooner have I suggested this possibility, however, when I realise saving our planet would be the least of their concerns. Even if they are super nice beings.

My Expertise

I know from having listened to Teal Swan for a year (my research is thorough, you can’t argue with that) – they who find themselves orginiating from alien planets, or identify as starseeds feel like “black sheep” in the family and are homesick for their real home. Like a proper old-fashioned Gnostic they will be relieved to leave Effed-up Earth and be in no hurry to return.

I am not one to preclude that the existence of aliens is for the far, far, far gone, gone far beyond - especially not to my hostess in the Crystal Shop. I am but a humble guest/customer looking for a piece of pink calcite.

I did, however, a few years back, in Teal-Tribe modus, tried to pick a new ancestry for myself. (Be warned it won't be easy if you fancy going for something sympathetic with the semitic or black look.) There are so many positive qualities one would love to enhance in oneself by preferring one alien race over the other. We have for example, the Arcturians who are tall and white with those typical black almond eyes, full of brilliant ideas; or the Pleiadians, also slim and Nordic looking, who have so much love to give. Sirians are calm but fun-loving daydreamers (I wonder how they manage the entire messaging system of Orion. Maybe I could try contactin Dr.Lorphan resident of Sirius for more info on that); if you want to make a radical change, go for the Reptilians who – of course – look like dragons, and don’t like weakness and command respect.

How to choose? Fortunately you don’t have to: you can’t, it’s already fixed in the stars! You can read it off your star-seed origins birth chart (available from many specialist sites for around $60-$80.)

My Predicament

The thing is, I see these people from the Pleiades or Sirius as aspects of the Christ Consciousness not fully awake to the fact they have been possessed by the Luciferic spirit. As if that sounds any saner! I know, I know. That’s why I have to be patient with people like the Crytal Lady. Just as I must endure the Former-Farmer shop-assistant who chops off his hair with a carving knife and doesn’t visit the Bleep much. These are “my kind of people”, the outsider, the exiles, the fringe dwellers, the fighters for free thinking and equal rights and a greener planet. The fruit-cake, the dreamer, the hysterical and the batty.

My Advice

May I just say then, how I strongly feel that it’s best to keep our loyalties down to Earth, why not? It’s all I’ve got. I haven’t heard from the Seven Sisters, yet. Fill in what you like for the words, Ahriman, Lucifer, Christ, I really don’t care. But I want to see you working with light, darkness and colour as perceived by the healthy human eye (of this era). I think it’s safer to leave the aliens outside as streetlamps and angry dryads in the dark-moon night.