Stars on the Endtime Horizon
Real-Sky Observations for 2012
I guess I began contemplating the 2012 endtime in the early 1970s, inspired by the publication of Mexico Mystique by anthropologist Frank Waters. I had been working with precession for some years, but tools and techniques were quite primitive back in those days. I had no access to a computer, and there was not yet a lot of fancy calculation in print, either on precession or Mesoamerican calendrics. Anthony Aveni's Skywatchers of Ancient Mexico was not published until six years later. In the next decade, the 1980s, archeoastronomy took off famously, with many books appearing at once. It was a heady time to be on the trail of ancient skylore.
It is worth noting that Waters' book appeared in 1974, the inceptive moment of the 1974-2012 interval centered on the nodal year, 1993. I have suggested that this 38-year interval marks the unique generation that will navigate humanity toward the Maya endtime. 1974 signals the initial conditions for the global perspective to emerge in the minds of that generation. Those who initialized the vision of planetary transformation (or whatever) in the 1970s will transmit it to the younger members of the generation, those who live at the post-millennial end of the interval. I believe that generational continuity is essential to the viability and coherence of endtime visions.
The wave of interest in archeoastronomy, and its legitimization as a scientific genre, falls neatly into the 1974-2012 interval. John Michell's cult classic, The View over Atlantis, went up like a signal flare in 1969, calling attention to sacred landscape and ley-lines. Peter Lancaster Brown's Megaliths, Myths and Men, still the best overview of the subject, came out in 1976. Sky/ground mirroring and the stellar orientation of megalithic sites (e.g. Graham Hancock, Heaven's Mirror) are recurrent topics of the endtime. From megalithic astronomy we take instruction on the long view of civilization and the millennial parameters of cultural evolution.
The Path of Heart
Mexico Mystique was a revelation. I remember reading it in one long summer day and a short night, hunkered down in my little adobe house on La Vereda, just off Palace Avenue in Santa Fe, and trembling with excitement. It was a thrill to see endtime speculation treated seriously by a well-known anthropologist and specialist in the indigenous lore of the Southwest, especially Hopi tradition. At the time, Frank Waters was the dean of Native American anthropology. He lived not far from me, up north in Taos, about an hour's drive along a spectacular route that (after Pilar) follows the course of the Rio Grande. That summer I visited him at Arroyo Seco. Tall and thin as a beanpole, he was an amiable and elegant man. We discussed the long-range parameters of cultural change and historical upheaval reflected in planetary and sidereal cycles.
There are some things in Mexico Mystique that do
not stand up today, but much more that still bears consideration.
Waters used the subtitle, "The Coming Sixth World
linked closely to the Aquarian Age. Although
he worked equally with Maya and Aztec myth and calendrics,
Waters emphasized the Aztec Ages or
"Suns," and in particular the motif of Ollin, "movement." He
noted that the Fifth Age is not just another age in the sequence
because "the Fifth Sun, or Sun of Movement, held for the
Nahuas the added
of the four directional suns that preceded it" (p. 121).
Citing Aztec Thought and Culture by Miguel Leon-Portilla
(a superb book, by the way), he added:
Waters saw in the heart-movement motif our challenge at the endtime: to find the path of heart for humanity, our species. He sensed that we might respond to that challenge by taking instruction from the myth of Quetzalcoatl. In his rendition of this myth, Waters noted that Xolotl was identical with Kukulcan of the Maya, a lightning god associated with Itzamna, the celestial serpent (Milky Way). Maya and Aztec myth alike see in Xolotl the twin of the Plumed Serpent Quetzalcoatl, whose Mayan name is Gucumatz.
Mexico Mystique touches on both the cataclysmic possibilities of the endtime (oddly calculated for 2011), as well as its transformational prospects for our species, but Waters does not elaborate too much on the latter. He deemed it valuable (as do I) to reckon the full duration of the Long Count. To do so, he used the Goodman-Martinez-Thompson (GMT) correlation and a start date of August 12, 3113 BCE. In his overview of the full 5124-year period, Waters discussed the Hindu Yugas and drew upon the work of siderealist Cyril Fagan, anthroposophist Gunther Wachsmith, Gurdjieffien Rodney Collin, all of whom attempted to construct a coherent model of the Zodiacal ages—alas, without much success. The problem is, or was at that time, that none of these people had the complete astronomical picture that shows how the pattern of Zodiacal ages is structured according to an extra-Zodiacal factor: the galactic center.
The Galactic View
Today we have the advantage of knowing quite a lot about the galactic alignment of the Zodiac. Many current discussions of 2012 assume this alignment to be the determining factor in the Long Count, considered astronomically, but, for some odd reason, the pattern of Zodiacal Ages is rarely factored into this perspective. The galactic alignment of the Zodiac gets a lot of attention, but the overall pattern of the Zodiacal Ages is ignored—a serious oversight in endtime astronomy. Yet 2012 has been associated with the Aquarian Age.
The Zodiacal Ages (Aries, Pisces, Aquarius, etc) are measured by star-patterns on the ecliptic, a band of thirteen constellations of uneven size and extent. The stars in these constellations lie in relatively close proximity to the earth in the immediate region of the galactic limb we occupy, the third limb of four counting outward from the center. In their totality all the stars visible to us in all directions from the earth comprise about three percent of the stars in the galaxy! Of this three percent, only a minute selection comprise the massive figures of the Zodiacal constellations. The maximum distance of these stars is not more than 1500 light-years, compared to the distance of 24,000 light-years to the galactic center.
The constellations of the entire celestial sphere, including the Ecliptic band of 13 figures and 75 extra-Ecliptic formations, are composed of near, naked-eye stars in the local limb, or arm. Because we are located within the arm, we notice the region of dense star population, the edge of the spiral arm, and on either side of that, constellations spread across less densely populated space. The lateral edge of the spiral arm, seen from within, is the Milky Way. It intersects the band of Zodiacal constellations at two points, between Taurus and Gemini, and between Scorpio and Sagittarius.
The above map (Erlewine, Astrophysical Directions) shows the Milky Way as the shaded area. The path of the ecliptic where the sun moves through the sky (actually, the orbital plane of the earth) runs from right to left, crossing the Milky Way at an angle of about 65 degrees. Out of the 88 constellations in the celestial sphere surrounding the earth, the ecliptic traverses thirteen distinct star-patterns: Taurus, Gemini, and Cancer are shown here. The Zodiacal constellations, or ecliptic constellations as they can also be called, stand apart from the extra-Ecliptic constellations, such as Orion seen here beneath Taurus. Orion, with his right arm raised up toward the horns of Taurus, seems to dangle off the Milky Way.
The Milky Way intersects the ecliptic at an angle of 65 degrees, as just noted. Erlewine follows astronomical convention and inserts a hypothetical median line or equator in the Milky Way, the so-called galactic equator. It runs from Perseus to Auriga, between Taurus and Gemini, down into Canis Minor and so on around the full celestial sphere. The region where the Milky Way and ecliptic intersect is visually remarkable because the horns of Taurus extend into the dense starstream of the Milky Way, and the feet of twins likewise dip into it. In naked-eye observation, these graphic details create a striking visual impression.
So, the entire celestial sphere we see does not comprise the galaxy, but a mere section of the local limb, the third from center counting outwards. All the stars around the earth fit into a "bubble of observability" crisscrossed by two bands, the band of the Milky Way, consisting of eighteen constellations, and the band of the thirteen Zodiacal constellations on the Ecliptic. Other star-patterns are spread out over the expanse of the celestial sphere in all directions.
The best way to track the Zodiacal Ages is with a flat model that displays all thirteen ecliptic patterns in a circular format. Such models are extremely hard to find, however. Despite all that has been written on the Ages, you will not find a clear, straitforward illustration of the Zodiac in a circular format except, perhaps, among the little-known school of sidereal astrology. I developed the model that I now use at the start of the 1974 - 2012 interval. The illustration below shows at the center a typical horoscope plotted on the grid of twelve astrological signs, and simultaneously, the real-sky constellations excluded from the horoscope.
Although it is difficult to make out the details, the central wheel consists of the twelve zodiacal signs (Aries, Taurus, Gemini) with planets in them on a specific date. The sign Zodiac of popular astrology uses a division of the ecliptic plane into twelve equal slices, like a pizza. Planetary positions are measured on this uniform grid irrespective of their actual. observable positions relative to the surrounding stars. Beyond the sign Zodiac we see the shape and extent of the real-sky constellations that lie along the rim of the ecliptic; hence I call this model the "Rimsite." The arrows extending outwards from the starless horoscope show how each planet in the sign Zodiac has another position in the star Zodiac. This is conversion to Star Base™, the graphic format of the real-sky constellations.
It is perplexing to learn that Sun sign astrology based on uniform ecliptic sectors ignores the stars, but this is an irrefutable fact. I have spilled tons of ink in the effort to sort out the two formats, sign Zodiac and star Zodiac, but that is not the issue here. The above illustration serves to show that the ecliptic plate with the full array of astrological signs—i.e., the horoscopic format—is independent of the surrounding constellations. Astrologers locate planets in that format (the orbital plane of the earth divided into twelve equal sections of 30 degrees each) and totally ignore the irregular star patterns visible in the night sky. Astrology ignores the stars. We have to look to astronomical resources to work out any patterns of Zodiacal timing that may apply to 2012.
To track the Zodiacal Ages, we observe how the ecliptic plate rotates against the surrounding stars. Precession is mapped by a carousel movement: the slow rotation of the ecliptic plate with its array of twelve Sun signs, at the rate of one degree every 72 years against the background of the fixed stars. 72 X 360 = 25,920 years for the full cycle.
Precession occurs as the solstices and equinoxes (the four quarters of the starless astrological grid system) shift against the starry background of the constellations. The conventional marker for the Zodiacal Ages is the spring equinox or vernal point, abbreviated VP. This is the first degree of the astrological sign Aries. It might be equated to the one-hour mark on a clock face. Imagine that the immense ecliptic plate is a clock face numbered 1 to 12 and divided into four quadrants, framed by a graphic display of thirteen mythical figures such as a bull, crab, scorpion, centaur, etc. The clock face rotates so that in one epoch of history the one-hour mark stands in front of the bull (Taurian Age: 4400 - 1850 BCE), but in another epoch, it stands in front of the crab (Cancerian Age: 7800 - 6150 BCE). Precession, then, is the rotation of the ecliptic sign-carousel relative to the circle of environing real-sky constellations.
The position of the sun against the background of the Star Zodiac on March 21 of any year shows the Zodiacal Age for that historical epoch. Currently, the VP stands in the constellation of Pisces, the Fishes, at the nine o'clock position in the model above. It is slowly shifting clockwise from under one of the fishes into the next constellation, Aquarius, the Waterbearer.
There are two ways to show the real-sky constellations, by composites or dot-to-dot patterns, as seen on astronomical maps:
—and by graphics, presenting a visual or imaginary version of the star-pattern:
Any astronomical map will show the position of the spring equinox for a given date (VP: 1950), but traditionally, maps used for naked-eye observation depict the constellations graphically, e.g., the two fishes of Pisces in the celestial atlas of Elijah Burritt, 1835, based on the woodcuts of Albrect Durer, 1510. One of the fishes swims up and away from the ecliptic, toward Andromeda, the Chained Woman. The other swims westward along and above the ecliptic toward the neighboring constellation of Aquarius. The second fish might be imagined to be swimming into currents that stream from the urn held by the Waterbearer. This is one way to visualize the transition from Pisces to Aquarius.
However you picture it, the VP has a long, long way to go before it enters the composite stars of Aquarius—at least eight hundred years. This is not a matter of speculation, but a simple astronomical computation. Beta Piscium, the star that marks the nose of the fish swimming left to right along the ecliptic, has a longitude of 348.59 for the year 2000. This is 11.41 degrees from the VP, the zero point on the ecliptic. 11.41 X 72 = 822 years until the VP reaches that star and leave the Pisces composite. Technically, the VP does enter the composite stars of the constellation of Aquarius until 2822 CE!
The Fishes are joined by a thread that provides distinct visual separation from the neighboring constellation, the Ram. The VP coming from the Ram touched that thread around 120 BCE, when the Piscean Age began. Measured strictly in astronomical terms, the duration of the Piscean Age is about 2900 years. The Zodiacal Ages are uneven in length, because the star-patterns that designate them are irregular in shape and extent. Unlike other students of cosmic timing, I reject the model of twelve Ages computed in uniform periods of 2160 years. It is far more instructive, I contend, to look at the timing of the Ages in real astronomical terms.
Every star in the ecliptic constellations can be precisely dated. The Zodiac is a star clock, a precision instrument for tracking the Ages. The graphic formations used to track precession belong to the observable Star Zodiac and have nothing to do with the starless, non-observable signs. Due to this situation, we require two sets of names to distinguish signs and constellations. I prefer to the leave the well-known Greco-Latin names (Aries, Taurus, Gemini, etc) to designate the astrological signs, and to adopt pictorial, "story-book" names for the real-sky constellations: Ram, Bull, Twins, etc. Unfortunately, astronomical maps use the astrological names. In the astronomical map above I have supplied the pictorial names, Ram, Fishes, Waterbearer, in place of the usual Latin names.
Getting the habit of using the story-book names is not easy, but it helps hugely once it is acquired. We can then refer to sign and constellation simultaneously. Someone born, say, on September 26, has the sun in 4 degrees of the sign Libra on the ecliptic scale, and in the face of the Virgin in the graphic form of the constellations. The placement in the constellation does not mean that this person, presumed to be a Libra, is really a Virgo. The real-sky placement of the sun, the moon, and planets does not denote personality, and does not yield a stereotype comparable to the Sun sign types in astrology. It points to another dimension of human experience, the transpersonal realm.
To return to the question of how 2012 relates to the Zodiacal Ages: we noted that Frank Waters and other scholars were unable to determine this connection because they did not have the extra-Zodiacal factor that identifies the midnight hour of precessional timing. The VP goes around the Zodiac from one Age to the next, precessing against the natural or seasonal order of the constellations. The Ages run in reverse: Geminian (6150 - 4400 BCE), Taurean (4400 - 1820 BCE), Arien (1820 - 120 BCE) , Piscean (current, began 120 BCE). This is the sequence of the Ages, but it does not reveal their pattern. We only discover the pattern of cosmic timing when we lock the complete cycle of Zodiacal Ages into an extra-Zodiacal framework so that the zero hour or midnight hour can be determined. The decisive factor outside the Zodiac is the galactic center.
The galactic center does not, of course, lie in the local limb where the Zodiacal star-patterns appear. It is situated at the core of the four-armed galactic spiral, about 24,000 light-years from us, eighteen times more distant than any star in the Zodiac. The core itself is not visible to us, but the direction toward it can be seen in the area where one Zodiacal figure, the Archer, comes together with another, the Scorpion. The galactic center, which is far, far beyond the stars of the Zodiac, can be located provisionally within the Zodiacal constellations, thus providing a midnight setting for the cycle of the Ages.
The full precessional cycle is called the Kalpa. When the VP aligns to the galactic center, the Kalpa "turns over," and a new precessional cycle commences.
Although the vernal point is the hour-hand of the Zodiacal Ages, it is not the alignment of the VP to the galactic center that determines the midnight moment. Calculations of precession, comparison of the World Ages in different traditions, and other details of astromythological lore have led most scholars (including myself) to conclude that the zero hour happens when the winter solstice aligns to the galactic center. Currently, the position of the winter solstice, where the sun stands on December 21 each year, is about three degrees westward from the best estimate for the sightline to the galactic center: that is, 27 degrees of the astrological sign Sagittarius, or ECL 267. The position of the winter solstice is by definition at 270 on the ecliptic scale.
At 72 years per degree, there are three degrees or about 200 years to go before the Zodiac ticks down to the zero hour, the end of one full cycle of 25,920 years and the start of another. According to my studies of the Dendera Zodiac, an ancient artifact that shows graphically how galactic alignment defines the frame of the Zodiacal Ages, the exact date would be 2216 CE. The start-date for the cycle then ending would be 72 X 360 (the full cycle) less 2216 years = 23,704 BCE. The full duration of the current precessional cycle (Kalpa) is 25,920 years. If you compare this period to a 24-hour day, we are living in the last eleven minutes of that day.
Michael's Erlewine's groundbreaking manual, Astrophysical Directions, was published by the Heart Center School of Astrology in Ann Arbor in 1977, three years after Mexico Mystique appeared. It clearly shows the location of the galactic center near the tail of the Scorpion, just above the sting. The neighboring constellation of the Archer appears to aim his arrow directly at this point—one of numerous cosmic directional signals encoded in the Zodiac and extra-Zodiacal constellations. (Paul LaViolette, known for his cataclysmic cosmic ray theory, claims to have discovered that the Archer points to the galactic center, but Erlewine's book appeared before his work. In 1977 anyone looking at Michael Erlewine's detailed sky maps could have made the observation. I clearly recall discussing it with astrologer Ray Mardyks in a cafe in Santa Monica in 1978.)
Erlewine's map (detail above) clearly shows the galactic center (GC) at 0 on the scale of the galactic equator, an imaginary line running transversely through the local limb. The darkened region is the Milky Way, the lateral edge of the galactic arm we inhabit. We have already seen how the Milky Way intersects the ecliptic constellations of the Twins and the Bull in the northern reaches of the sky. Here, toward the south, it intersects the Scorpion and the Archer (the "story-book" names). There is a distinct bulge in the Milky Way in this region, suggesting the bulge of the immense star mass at the hub of our galaxy. Toward the Archer we are looking at the hub, but cannot actually see it because, astronomers say, it is shrouded in a thick cloud of black dust.
In the constellation of the Archer (astronomical name Sagittarius, not to be confused with the astrological sign of the same name!), the star gamma, shown by the Greek letter resembling a y, marks the tip of the arrow aimed toward the Scorpion. The galactic center (GC) is a little above his line of aim. Close and sustained observation of these immense composites shows that the Archer aims at the star eta in the lower torso of the Scorpion. Yet the close proximity to the GC leaves the impression that his arrow points to that locale as well.
It is certainly remarkable that the distinctive pointing gesture of the Archer directs our attention on a sightline on the galactic center. Bear in mind that the Archer visualization is highly improbable, and does not intuitively come to mind. The composite of this constellation is often drawn dot-to-dot as a teapot, which it roughly resembles. It certainly looks more like a teapot than an archer aiming his bow! I would not claim that this constellation was designed to point out the galactic center, because, obviously, no star-pattern is a human construct. But I would suggest that from time before reckoning people were taught to visualize the composite stars as an archer aiming his arrow in that way so that their attention would be graphically directed to the galactic center. Almost none of composites of the constellations resemble the graphics attached to them. They are deliberate devices of visualization intended to bring attention to specific astrophysical directions.
On the above astronomical map, the ecliptic is the line marked 240 - 250 - 260, running right to left. This is the path of the sun throughout the year. At 270 the sun reaches the winter solstice. With precession, the solstice point shifts west (to the right). Clearly the point of the solstice is close to alignment with the GC, but it has a way to go—around 200 years. The infrastructure of the Dendera Zodiac confirms this timescale.
The constellations shown here, called by their story-book names, Archer and Scorpion, are not the same at the astrological signs, Sagittarius and Scorpio. Likewise for the Fishes, which is a real-sky composite not to be confused with the astrological sign Pisces. If you are a Pisces (February 20 - March 21), you do not have the sun in the star pattern of the Fishes, but in the star pattern of the preceding constellation, the Waterbearer. Yet this is not exactly the case, either. If you are born in the last 10-12 degrees of the sign Pisces (i.e., after March 10), your natal sun is indeed located in the composite stars of the fish that swims along the ecliptic. Can we say, then, that in some cases a sign or part of a sign will coincide with a constellation? Not really.
There is no point-to-point "correspondence" between signs and constellations, and there never was a time when they coincided. The sign Zodiac and the star Zodiac are two distinct formats. This fact does not invalidate Sun sign astrology, but throws it into an entirely new perspective. I discuss this matter at length in my book, Quest for the Zodiac which can be ordered from Amazon.co.uk. The formidable task of decoding the Star Zodiac reveals what I call stellar phylogenetics. I mention it here because it may turn out that phylogenetic transfer is one of the key revelations of the endtime. Rather than impose this notion as a pet idea of mine, I would like to see how it reveals itself over time, in the immediate future and the years leading up to 2012.
In Quest for the Zodiac, I explain that we all have two kinds of inheritance. The first is our universally recognized genetic inheritance from blood relations. This is the component of genetic replication carried in the chromosomes, where about 3 percent of our DNA is configured. The other kind of inheritance is a transfer to the individual from the human species as a whole—genomic, rather than genetic (chromosomal). The genomic inheritance, which I call the endowment, can be decoded from the array of planets in the graphic constellations, Ram, Twins, Virgin, Scorpion, etc. Unlike the astrological signs, which present a set of twelve psychological types, the constellations of the real-sky Zodiac do not indicate consistent personality traits but transpersonal gifts and faculties inherited by each person from the experience of humanity at large: the genomic endowment of humanity's long-range potential.
Phylogenetic transfer is pan-species inheritance, the way humanity transmits its high-end learning assets from one generation to the next.
In Maya Cosmogenesis 2012, John Major Jenkins writes: "They [the Maya] used thirteen constellations rather than twelve. This fact would result in a different timing for the anticipated shift in World Ages, one that would not agree with the dawn of the Aquarian Age recognized in Western astrology" (p. xxxvi). Precisely so. The real-sky Zodiac of thirteen irregular constellations is not only the frame of the World Ages but also presents the "cosmic code" of phylogenetic transfer. It shows how the genius of the human species evolves over time by a genomic transfer of peak potential. Jenkins says, "according to Maya calendric science, the Great Cycle times our collective unfolding as a species, as well as the cycles of culture" (p. 22-23). The trick is, to understand how long-range changes in the human species come to fruition via self-actualized individuals living in a particular historical epoch.
I seem to recall that Jenkins refers somewhere to the genius of the human species. His language for the Maya endtime points to that conception. In many ways Maya Cosmogenesis 2012, which appeared in 1998, is a parallel text to Quest for the Zodiac, published a year later. Jenkins based book on studies of the Maya calendar and cultural mythology of Mesoamerica, and I based mine on the Dendera Zodiac and comparative mythology. The difference is in the way we each set up expectations for the Next Age. Jenkins asserts that precession is a model of evolution with each Age as a "growth cycle" comprised of particular parameters and lessons (p. 22). He assumes that with the change of the Age or shift to the "Next World," humanity as a whole undergoes a spiritual rebirth:
In this moment of fruition or "spiritual embryogenesis" (a notion derived from Oliver Reiser), Jenkins sees the Galactic Center "as the supreme sociopolitical organizing principle" (324), and he anticipates that the connection to the center will produce a massive catalytic effect upon humanity, shifting the attitude, if not the behavior, of our entire species.
For my part, I am far less optimistic about a collective shift, and more inclined to see a surge of genius potential in certain individuals. My efforts to decode the real-sky Zodiac have led me to believe that phylogenetic transfer is perpetual, and there is no key moment of collective shift into a higher octave of awareness —although there are sudden cataclysmic moments of collective breakdown. In the 2012 shift I see a moment when the surge of genius potential in individuals who realize their endowment can play over into collective life, inducing critical changes. To me the most fascinating thing about 2012 is how the surge parlays into a social and collective correction—or IF it does.
While Jenkins (and others) anticipate "the transformation of humanity into something completely new (p. xxxv)," I see novelty emerging through gifted individuals all the time, all through history, but in particular ebbs and flows that can be tracked (as Terence McKenna attempted to do with his timeline based on permutations of the I Ching). Novelty is a feature of human expression carefully observed and nurtured in the Mysteries, as I explain in Not in His Image. Gnostics identified the singularity of the human species by the Greek word monogenes, which scholars translate as "only-begotten." I protest that "only-begotten" is a received concept reflecting bogus theological doctrines that have nothing to do with the educational insight of the telestai, the seers who maintained the Mysteries. The singularity of the human species—its capacity to continually express novelty—is a central theme in the Gnostic myth of Sophia. I propose that novelty emerges as the peak potential realized by certain people in one generation or historical epoch assumes a new configuration in a later generation or epoch.
Phylogenetic transfer is ongoing and diachronic, with novelty possible at any moment, although there are certain moments when it surges. 2012 is one of those moments. Both Jenkins and I agree that this date is not the dawn of the Aquarian Age, nor the end of the precessional cycle. I propose that it is the moment when we acquire the navigational skills to get to the end. In this process, which will take about 200 years to unfold, the concept of the Galactic Center is of paramount importance. Jenkins makes this point several times, and I too insist on that emphasis, but with a different spin.
Additional to singularity, monogenes, the sacred narrative of the Old World Mysteries carries the themes of self-organization, autogenes, and correction, diorthosis. Self-organization, or autopoesis, is the property innate to all living matter, but according to the sophisticated parapsychology of the gnostikoi, we, the human species, can deviate from what is innate due to our preference for abstraction and model-making. We come to like our ideas about reality more than reality itself. We cocoon in ideational and technological gimmicky, in models and memes. Doing so, we lose touch with the essential intelligence that informs all life, and we even lose our connection to humanity itself, becoming dehumanized, routinary, banal and predictable (as don Juan remarked to Castaneda in their conversation about alien intrusion by "the flyers").
In some manner that is not entirely clear in what remains of Gnostic writings, the ancient seers understood that our tendency to deviate from our true potential into artificiality was connected with a problem facing Sophia, the goddess who morphed into the earth and who is now the living intelligence of the earth, the planetary entelechy. They taught that Sophia is involved in a correction by which she becomes aligned to the cosmic source of all organic life in our galaxy: the galactic core or Pleroma. We have seen that knowing the actual physical locality of the core is essential to plotting the cycle of Zodiacal Ages by the determination of a midnight hour based on extra-Zodiacal alignment.
Is this alignment, so far stated purely in astronomical terms, somehow related to the correction of Sophia by which she reintegrates herself with the Aeons in the Pleroma? Exploring this question is, in my view, the leading challenge of the 2012 endtime.
I will continue to develop the notion of Sophia's correction in follow-up articles on real-sky lore relating to 2012. For now, I would like to wind up this article with a summary comment: The correction of Sophia, the planetary entelechy, is the single most important factor yet to be integrated into our growing intuition of the 2012 endtime and what lies beyond it. As far as I know, nothing in the current debate refers explicitly or even by implication to the role of the planetary intelligence in the immanent changes facing our species. There is huge speculation about pole shift and the reversal of the magnetic fields, but these phenomena are not considered in terms of conscious orientation of the Gaian mind. As far as Gaia is concerned, the materialistic paradigm still prevails, and the assumption of blind, unconscious matter pervades the debate. When do we start talking about the shift of the planetary mind, Sophia's correction, rather than a shift in the collective mind of humanity, and how do we establish the syntax for such a conversation?
2012 brings an opportunity to contemplate the mind of Gaia as the supernatural intelligence that complements human genius and engages singularity rather than the collective psyche or mass-mind mentality. It may be that Gaia-Sophia favors the gifted, those who fulfil the genomic endowment, and depends on them for her correction. This is what the Gnostic teachings appear to indicate.
jll: 5 March 2007 Flanders
Related articles on Mayan Endtime, 2012, Zodiacal Ages:
Material by John Lash and Lydia Dzumardjin: Copyright 2002 - 2017 by John Lash.