History from the future about the present
11th December 2010
for Michael Bradley, fellow time traveler
“Creativity is divine memory where we remember ideas from the future.” Plato
Concerning the events of January 5, 2014:
The Vanderloopers turned out to be itinerants in the galactic sense,
in that they hopped from place to place much like happy Mexicans, only
their hopping was up and down the timescale across the entire spectrum
of universes. They liked Earth for the sex, of course, and also going
to the dog track, for reasons I never understood, and so hung out in
various times and places, ancient Persia long ago and even at the
North Pole in the far future, when there were plenty of condos there.
I only got a glimpse of their true form once, in San Francisco, when
they were transiting from one identity to another. They were long thin
strips of bright light, four to twelve feet high but only a foot or
two wide, almost like a single match out of a matchbook, and not
unlike those Gumby figures, but without features, only varying and
pulsating hues of clouds of light subtly coursing like muted TV
weather maps all over their slowly undulating surfaces.
Amongst all the strange beings I was encountering during that time of
my life — naguals tracking blue scouts, channelers commenting on
temporal politics from their imagined galactic perspective (the archon
Hatonn is still hitting for high average after 20 years), and all
sorts of people twisting legends of commonality into lucrative New Age
pastimes — I didn’t pay that much attention to the Vanderloopers. But
I was cordial to them; they were beautiful in human form, very polite
and relaxed. I never guessed how important they would be to those of
us who remained.
Today (2014) our world has changed completely. All the dire
predictions about 2012 turned out be true in a far worse sense than
any of us could have possibly imagined. My Pleiadian friend The
Boopster had it right all those years ago. I remained skeptical for
about a decade, and then the consiliences started to hit me. It was
the Photon Belt. And in 2012, it made the sun explode and vaporized
the Earth. But many people were ready for this, once the news got out
that while the corporeality of the human species was to be obliterated
beyond recognition, the actual essence of life contained in its astral
and etheric fields remained for a short period of time, as it does in
the bardo, and a kind of life continues, and it’s operable if you get
And so it came to be that all those who had put their knowledge and
beliefs into metaphrand technology retained a safe harbor in which
their spirits could operate inside their metaphrands. These solid
spirits coalesced in the vaporous etheric footprint that was the
fading shadow of the rubble of Earth, now swathed in the poisonous
volcanic ash that finally removed the poisoners of the planet from its
surface, and in the disorienting maelstrom of fog actually we finally
learned to operate our metaphrands, then linked in league with each
other, and formed an ectoplasmic organism that could very easily
manipulate physical matter, which mastery of the metaphrand requires.
Trouble is, we were floating in outer space, all feeling like we’d
been through the biggest car wreck ever — which it was — it took
awhile to get oriented, and later, coordinated. But once we did we
found we had the instantaneous synchronicity of a flock of birds.
And I haven’t mentioned what is appearing to be the best part. It’s
really nice here, and warm, since the shifting of galactic influences
made Our Sun burp in the most momentous way, and caused it to expand
its searing heart out beyond the orbit of Mars, barbecuing everything
closer to it. So it’s warm here, warmer than it has ever been. And
Wait til you hear what happened with the Vanderloopers. They came back
and saw us in our savaged states, astral and etheric bodies flailing
around in the void with no heart to attach to — right after the planet
had been flamed into an instantaneous cinder, nobody felt a thing. If
it wasn’t for them, we never would have made it.
The Vanderloopers turned out to be the Varatners, who were from a star
system we only have a number for (NGC 7000).
When we were trying to coalesce into a group after the catastrophe
(our astral and etheric fires only last about a month or so without
regeneration, accomplished by attaching to the Sun), the shadowmasters
— as we had come to call ourselves, because we could operate in the
after death state known as the bardo — were arguing about what our
purpose should be in this curious and unfamiliar state of affairs. But
we were all in agreement that wherever we were, it was such a terrific
place that we shouldn’t be in a hurry to do anything rash. Even though
we had no sense organs, it seemed warm, slightly sweaty, and ever so
fragrant, intoxicatingly so.
That’s when the Vanderloopers suddenly popped out right in front of
us, Veronica and Voorhees Vanderlooper who I used to hang out with at
the pool, flashy German tourists when I saw them. Only they were in
their Gumby matchbook attire, tall and slim and graceful, undulating
slightly as if swaying in an unseen wind. Behind them was the most
terrifying thing of all, the endless blackness of the universe.
“Why are you still here?” they asked coldly, without words.
“Because we are meant to be alive,” I responded, adding hastily, “And
we have a gift to give you, and everyone we meet.”
Voorhees, 12 feet tall, chuckled contemptuously. His wife, about 4
feet, was more polite. “What are you DOING here?”
I stammered: “We have lost our bodies and our planet through our own
stupidity, and what you see before you are the bedraggled remnants of
what remains of us, a tangled mess of desires and recrimination, as
yet, however, unfulfilled in our wish to be alive again, to be free of
this guilt and this shame of having destroyed what has only nurtured
us and loved us. But before I complain any longer, let me ask you, Mr.
and Mrs. V: Are you all right? Do you need our help, for we would
eagerly give it. And if not, are you here to hurt us, and do we need
to protect ourselves?
They replied, seemingly in unison, but again, without words.
“Explain what you’re doing here, Jack, or we’re going to treat you
like just another bunch of lunchmeat planetoids, and never give it
“Do you have a purpose here, I mean, floating around in space like
this? Are you not certain of where you have to go.”
We shadowmasters looked at each other, gulped, and I turned around to
face the Vanderloopers.
“We are the remnants of race that never overcame its own fear. Our
task is to reestablish ourselves as a corporeal species, after first
obtaining some piece of land that might be congenial to our objective.
My guess is that Enceladus, the small moon of Saturn, is our ancestral
home from the future, and it is there we should go further away from
this heat and try to evolve more sensibly than we have in the past.
“In our past, we have bribed ourselves into oblivion by trying to buy
something that is not now nor has even been for sale — which is
eternal life. This destroyed us, a neverending parade of fear and
terror, that was deliberately provoked, all constructed for the
acquisition of something that could never be obtained. Our lives are
so good that we would never trade them for any jewel in existence, and
yet we have tossed them away over things we thought we important that
really were generated by our own cowardice and small-mindedness.
“We would never accept that all life is one thing, a whole cloth,
because we measured our lives in terms of the things that others
convinced us to buy, rather than deciding what it was we wanted and
who we are on our own. So it was the deception of others that really
bounced back and killed all of us, a planet run down by a fast buck.”
The Vanderloopers turned to face other, their surfaces radiating a
rapid sequence of red and purple flashes. They quickly entwined in a
double wrap, then returned to their original positions, facing us.
“Do you not understand that the universe needs a reason to let you
live, that there must be some beneficial aspect to your species to
prevent you from going extinct? You will have a hard time explaining
to us that anything you can do will be worthwhile. What could you
possibly do atone for all your fellow Earth species you have killed,
including your own?”
I cleared my throat, nervously.
“We knew, but in our fear, we ignored it. ‘The guy with the most toys
wins’ was the favorite saying on the late great Planet Earth. But not
one person who ever said that reached the end without regretting he
said it, for in the piling up of toys everyone misses the real beauty
of passing through this life, and that is the real lesson we are here
Growing impatient, Veronica Vanderlooper interrupted.
“It could easily have been that humans were the pinnacle of
materialization in the universe, more beautiful and capable even than
the brightest quasar. But instead they chose to lie about the whole
thing, insisting they knew what cannot be known by single organisms,
and created a self-hating cancer — fear of death — that consumed them.
Already the scars of human stupidity are found on other planets and
moons near you. Thanks for the warning. The universe has heeded it.”
And with that, the Vanderloopers turned around and disappeared into
But they kept coming back, with hundreds of their friends, and taught
us the basics of individual and group motility in the noncorporeal
state, which fit perfectly with the metaphrand technology we had
invented to take advantage of precisely this mode of transportation.
The metaphrand was actually a detachable probe we conceived of, where
we could put all our best things and detox our personalities from
those destructive God poisons that have antagonized us all these
years, become the soul we always hoped to be, and, if the technology
we had basically mastered were developed into a hard science, it meant
that we could go anywhere and do anything forever.
So the Varatners, who seemed so kind but utterly without emotion, kept
quizzing us on what we were going to do if we were given a second
chance. Finally, I couldn’t take their badgering anymore, and let
loose a torrent of emotional invective. It seemed funny to me to be
saying it, to be defending the human race after it had completely
destroyed itself, but what was even funnier was to pretend I had an
ego when I didn’t even have a body anymore. Somehow the two things
just don’t go together.
“Dear Varatners,” I began, marveling at my own sudden ability to do
just what they did, and speak without words. “Thank you for your
thoughtful guidance, and bringing some degree of calm to our frazzled
state. It’s nice to know that there are others out here in the
universe who share our desire to nurture life and help others. As a
civilization we never learned that to help others is really the only
way to nourish ourselves. And that in large part accounts for where we
are at this very moment, and this sorry predicament we have brought
“Though we might never be able to communicate this to our living
brothers and sisters, we nevertheless have learned that the secret of
life is to finally realize that we are never alone, that we never have
“All other species on Earth realized that except us. And because we
had the power of thought but not the knowing of universal love, we
killed them all, all the while thinking we were making our lives
better. All that life, sympathetic, understanding life, that gets
everything it needs from the environment it is born into, was all
there to help us learn, about ourselves, and about everything else.
“And now we learn of you, sublime Varatners, who somehow derive
nourishment from giving, and travel the universes in search of perfect
conditions, in which you somehow improve the situation anyway. How
bold of you! What a perfect flower of an idea is your existence.”
“Now that we have learned, all that remains to do is act. And such we will do.
“We understand that the animal that became man, because of the
condition of being in the universe, was hardwired to all things, both
now and for as long as the universes lived. He lost the connection to
that ability by believing that he died, and inventing all sorts of
amulets and formulas to convince himself that he didn’t, which only
took him further away from the truth.
“Now we know it was the human destiny to become the finest, most
admired beings in the universe, known for their trustworthiness, their
reliable fidelity, and their open-armed compassion.
“And Earth, as a consequence, would have become a jewel among the
heavenly bodies (which of course it was, the most beautiful of all the
places in the universe), known as a refuge for the diseased and
disheartened, who were inevitably cured by that magic potion known as
the sun and the rain, known as the place where you could always get an
aspirin or a decent meal when you needed it, no matter how bad a shape
you were in.
“This is what humans will make our new Earth, wherever and whenever it
is — a beacon of hope for all the universe to see, and a refuge for
all who refuse to lie about their predicament. And all guided by one
principle! To make laughter reign beyond the sun for as long as the
future shall be!”
Veronica’s pulsing surface gently rippled with hues of lavender and
gold, and tiny glittering silver stars orbited around what you would
have called her head if it wasn’t rectangular, Veronica leaned over to
me and giggled: “That’s the way it already is, silly.” And at exactly
that moment, seemingly from as far away as the stars but as close as
your own nose, the music began to play. But so much more than music.
It’s as if we WERE sound, and the music that began so softly and
majestically, with all the beauty of Vivaldi, Debussy, Brahms, and
Elgar all rolled into one, but so much more than that; words can never
describe music. This was like a cool lava flow in a steam bath seeping
through our porous surfaces, and we were riding on the solar wind like
And then there were the colors. As the surfaces of the Varatners
rippled and pulsed with surging colors, so the sky began to do that.
Again, suddenly we WERE the colors, radiant carnelian streaks splaying
across of field of golden clouds flecked with purple and green
colorbursts, all pulsing with the beat of divine music from an
orchestra so large it dwarfed the stars.
Randy, in his gaudy lime green metaphrand, leaned back, took another
hit off his imaginary spliff, and said, of course, without words:
“Dude, how can people be sweating out death when it’s like this!?”
Sofia, intently eyeing Veronica’s wavy geometrics, whispered to me: “I
think I saw a corporate logo on one of those Varatners.” And Bruce,
sitting in the saddle of one of his horses in a meadow of his memory
that was now the whole cosmos, sized up the contours of what appeared
to be a growing wraith in a far off mist, fast closing in. “I just
don’t think these are the type of people who would shoot anyone.
Probably is something we could learn from them.”
Out of the mist that now engulfed us, all sparkling and twinkling with
increasingly visible strips of bright light, began to appear Varatners
by the millions, filling our field of vision with their spectral
brilliance with a light never seen so bright that infused our
ectoplasmic entities with a warmth we had never known. And not just
Varatners, but all sorts of colored beings, glittering and . . . the
stars were singing, welcoming us into galactic consciousness. It gets
difficult to try and record ecstasy past this point, but as we
listened intently to the hypnotic music and soothingly sublime colors,
we began to discern vague lyrics in the music. Though it sounded
somewhat like one of those whale chants, the words we discerned, which
played over and over, were . . .
“ . . . all I have is you . . . all I have is you . . . all I have is you . . .”
This is what the universe has always sung to us, only precious few of
us have ever heard it.
On December 21, 2012, Our Sun exploded — as the Maya said it would —
but it did not self destruct. Instead, it grew to almost twice its
size, as if it was about to burst, which it was. The aura of intense
heat and radiation expanded, killing all nonheatbearing organisms to a
distance of out beyond the orbit of Mars. But as that section of our
solar system was utterly fried and most life died, the outer planets
began to blossom, and all sorts of new life forms found new expression
in the suddenly warmer weather. But there were no humans there to
discover and greet them. Humans, in their ontological pain, had driven
themselves right out of the organic realm back into the conceptual
realm of potential, where they had come from all those eons ago,
having failed in their million year long bid to act real.
Amid the sublime experience of sound that put peace in our hearts and
color that put fire in our veins, the metaphrand fleet headed out
toward Enceladus to begin the long process of reincorporealization.
The Vanderloopers waved goodbye and wished us well.
“May the glory of creation enfold you in the loving arms of its
eternity,” said Voorhees warmly.
And off on the music we rode, carrying our intrepid songs of life into
the darkness we had made for ourselves.
The purpose of this tale is to point out that the music we heard after
the lights went out on Planet Earth, that music that is really only
the normal conversation of that ecstatic place known as the wider
universe, that communicates to us knowledge that we need but have
never heard, and gives us courage to hear something we have heard but
ignored — that you are absolutely nothing without who you love.
That is precisely what powers eternity. All you are, and all you have,
was given to you by others. The inevitability of that gift returning
is what makes the universe run.
But the big news for you and the purpose of this dispatch is to
mention that this music that has guided us for so long which we remain
deaf to was beginning to be heard by large numbers of people, for the
first time in human history, in the month of December in the year
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