The trouble with outerspace is that I don't get it. Maybe it's a Taurus (Earth sign) thing, but I remember having an astronomy program on my 1990s PC when I was a kid and thinking it was the most nonsensical thing ever. Not bad - not boring - just beyond my understanding in a way that rendered the subject seemingly useless. Other representations of space have gotten less ambivalence. 

My flatmate's current obsession with Star Trek (which is apparently a gay love story) has made me realize that it's not that I never liked it growing up - I've actually always experienced a near repulsion at the mere sight of Trekkie-wear akin to what I imagine people who think Cilantro tastes like soap experience (also, I don't trust those people). And the covers of the vinyl records in my dad's collection that showed UFOs and black male funk musicians either returning from or journeying into outerspace seemed silly to me - both dated and reaching. 

Ernie sang that he didn't want to live on the moon and I sure as hell didn't either. Space has always seemed daunting, not to mention cold and lonely. Why would I want to go somewhere that literally has ZERO of the the things that make life worth living - indeed, zero of anything besides rocks and gases?

So, daunting, silly, revolting, and ambivalence-inducing - got that?

Now it's been almost three years since Father Black Hawk, during one of my semi-regular devotional practices, pointed to the constellation of Orion, saying that it was related to why I incarnated here. I paid little heed as I was receiving an overload of visionary information at the time (shaman sickness) but I pinned a picture of it to my corkboard and moved on with my life. I'd been on a serious Indigo / Starseed kick during the more agonizing period of that initiatory illness some months beforehand that had eventually left a bad taste in my mouth, but I knew some part of it was true even if I found the theories, prescriptions, and advice of my contemporaries seriously wanting. But little by little, the evidence has been mounting - a star-loving soul part retrieval, another one who loves kameas, spirit guide sessions for clients with non-terrestrial beings dropping in to lend advice, a half-day visionary experience of "where's my tail and the rest of my arms," etc.

No matter how much I love Earth (and I do, I do, I do-ooo! *kisses dirt*) it seems that - sigh - space is the place. At least now I know why. (Hint: We're aliens. So are our Descendants / Ancestors-Yet-To-Come. I know, it's uncomfortable. The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.)