The Last War

A meteorite hits the earth's surface. Everything you once knew perishes. What do you do in your last moment as your life flashes before your eyes?

Or you're working in a nuclear power plant that implodes and fires out bullets of radiation travelling at nearly the speed of light penetrating the whole continent and everything in its path.

Now imagine you're a man in 1914, you're living in England somewhere, and you are suddenly drafted into The Great War. Imagine you're in the front lines and you're readying yourself to step up from the trenches to charge through no mans land with your comrades. Hundreds of bullets firing towards you. Your Band of Brothers being blown to pieces all around you from passing airstrikes. Limbs flying around you. You hear the other men screaming for their mummies as they hold their dangling intestines. But you know that you need to press on with the remaining survivors to fulfil your mission. Imagine somehow you make it home after having witnessed all of that. The traumatic memories running loose yet shackled in the psyche rumbling within like earthquakes from your remaining shellshocked life.

The great war and the even greater war was not great in any sense. Our only recent ancestors should not have had to have gone through that at the mercy of their nation and its political stance with the rest of the world. But they did. Their lost futures lay waste in the silent battle planes of Marne like ghosts. They could have been healers, teachers, shamans, or even leaders some day. But they were soldiers in a rich dynasty's chess match. They were brave to meet their Gods in the slaughter lands of the Somme. And I honour them for that, and I pray for them and their families.

Alas we have the Silent Generation. The generation after the war that faced the next decades of great depression and societal upheaval. Times were a lot harder back then. There wasn't the amount of knowledge, healing and channels of light that there is now. There were just long corridors of darkness still under the tyrannical grip of ignorance and authoritarian twentieth century civilisation.

Inside of you and I, a space unknown to the ego, a spark of light within there be a dragon. A tainted fable. Here lies trauma and an unimaginable anguish. There was no time for healing the psyche after the wars that were fought. There was no reintegration for the traumatised men back into the culture. There was no Ayahuasca, there was no deeply discovered research on psychology, healing practices, and the nature of the soul. There were no elders or shamans initiating souls through the passage way from their life of destruction and pain, drastically into a new life, a life post war and a healthy returning to the culture. There was only the best they had during such adverse times in accordance to the current stage of the evolution of consciousness. Man has become deeply wounded over the eras.

For generations this great war was internalised while we carried on through the ages. Moving on to World War II, the worst war ever, followed by countless others. The next generation deployed into the jungles of Vietnam being ambushed by the lethal Viet Cong. The wars taking place in the Middle East even today. The crushed children under the rubble of their beloved community as their mothers plead to the Gods to bring them back.

You see, every devastating chapter of our collective endeavours as we evolve through the eras are carried within you and I. The pain was pushed into shadow long ago. Alas we have a collective shadow of unaddressed traumas. A karmic dept to pay. This drives men into alcoholism, drug abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse and other unimaginably dire coping mechanisms to hold it together. Some men could only cope by throttling their wives or kids and beating them while they were pregnant. A woman has every right to feel anger towards men. Has any woman here had a man in your life who physically beat you or sexually abused you? Has that left you wounded? Then the waves of trauma have reached you from hundreds and thousands of years ago. It bleeds like pollution in the oceans onto our women and children like Chernobyl into the Pripyat River and into the Black Sea.

Your ancestors are within you and they whisper to you guidance of healing if you wish to let them in. All of your ancestral memory resides within your very being. You are your ancestors and they are you. You are the solider in the battles. You are the US military and the Viet Cong. It is all you.

We carry the Torch of Humanity, and we are each embers of that one united fire. It is tainted with ignorance and savagery, yet it is revived and ignited by our hearts as Soldiers of the Light that we are. Men and women coming together.

It is our duty to Mother Earth, one another and ourselves as men and women to go within and do our work. "There is a chain that is passing through you. Knowledge but also sadness and pain, addictions, troubles. It is for you to understand what you have received from your ancestors, what you have to heal from that chain, what you have to cut to not trespass yourself onto the ones to come or that are already here." — Don Gino at the end of an Ayahuasca retreat.

There is only one war. We are fighting a Spiritual War, and it is fought within. We have fought The Great War, but now we fight The Last War. And we win when we lay down our weapons. We find peace when we stop fighting ourselves and we remember and embody our Sacred Nature. We rise to meet the Golden Ages that are already upon us when we stop blaming our brothers and sister, our mothers and fathers, and our lovers. We find what we are looking for when we go within and we face The Storm. So pick up your sword o' brave soldier, for it is not over yet. Place it in the Axis Mundi of the earth beneath your feet. Stand on your hind legs in the eye of the storm and sing your song. I release you from the shackles of ancestral bondage. You step into the New Earth and your New Life. We are the Children of the Third Millennium. We are the First Men and Women. We are paving the way for a new.

What Say You, Soldier?

— Harry