CHICKEN LITTLE'S APOLOGY - HiddenMysteries ThE-Magazine

CHICKEN LITTLE'S APOLOGY

The Rune of Trust
In April 1998 I witnessed an unusual event which was soon to become commonplace in my life. While hiking on the west face of the Sandia Mountains on a Sunday morning, I watched spellbound as an array of silent, slender jets wove a grid of contrails high over the Rio Grande valley--intersecting streams in an X pattern which slowly spread out into billowing shapes and then fell, rolling in an endless sea of clouds down the valley. I was so impressed by this stunning spectacle that I described it in detail in my journal-it was bizarre, and strangely beautiful. Pondering the meaning of this vision, I thought of the "X" as "The Rune of Trust."

Over the next year I frequently observed the "skywriters" at work, and I wondered about the X, what message it held for me. I was drawn to this mystery: X marks the spot, like a target, or a treasure map. In whom do we Trust?

My puzzlement turned to alarm when I realized that what I saw was not simply "natural" phenomena--a happenstance of humidity and technology -but that something else was going on, and no one I knew seemed to notice, or particularly care. We were being sprayed from airplanes.

As I brought this phenomenon to the attention of my friends and family, in fact, a predictable backlash occurred. No one was looking up -they never even noticed what was going on right over their heads. They really didn't want to know. A friend said to me, "I am just trying to put one foot in front of the other." My family simply did not want to hear about it. It was a big, negative Fear Trip.

I was Chicken Little, crying that the sky was falling.

X Marks the Spot
It was impossible to ignore. Almost every day, right over my head, right outside my door, there were X's in the sky sprayed from formations of unmarked silver tanker-jets. Some days a clear blue sky was so occluded that it turned into a milky overcast afternoon, above which the sprayer jets worked their way back and forth.

I wrote to my congressmen and I demanded answers. Who is spraying us and why? What is going on here? I felt an overpowering sense of frustration, as though I were a fly, stuck on flypaper. I was determined to find out the meaning of this. My letters were not acknowledged.

I called the meteorologist at Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque to ask what was going on-she told me the military occasionally "drops chaff" which looks like precipitation, but isn't -it is aluminum droplets, which dissipate harmlessly. This was not reassuring to me. I asked her, would she like to breathe aluminum droplets; she agreed, no she wouldn't.

Although my observation of this scene was eerily silent--a high drama in which the players were almost invisible--I became nervously aware of the continual growling of the low-flying jets with sprayers mounted on the fuselage, crossing over us all day long, heading north, or back to refuel. Menacing reverberations rumbled across the valley, like Rip Van Winkle's bowling alley.

I had always felt rather benign about jets streaking from horizon to horizon-the astral zipper, as my friend Peter once called it--accepting a certain noise level as a reminder that we live in an exciting, space-age world…but this was relentless. Black helicopters crisscrossed the skies whenever the contrails were present. I could hear them at night, waking to the sound at dawn.

Often the grids were laid down under cover of darkness, so that when I walked in the early morning I would see the odd way the clouds broke up into lines, or the unusual cobwebs which dripped ominously over the mountain and wrinkled in the winds. Days when the sky was a bright blue bowl, as we had always known it, were quite rare-indeed, cause for celebration-- while rainless clouds hung a hazy curtain over us.

On occasion an artificially hazy day would turn into a sudden torrential downpour. Everyone agreed that this was really a "monsoon," and that I was imagining things-it seemed to me to be orchestrated with uncanny force, tweaked out of the ethers after the tiny high jets square-danced in the skies. This was the first spring in which I welcomed wind, as it served to blow the skies clear. They didn't spray on really windy days, and so I felt safe.

Mountain by God-- Cloud by Monsanto
In New Mexico, the Big Sky is a canvas on which Nature illustrates her glorious pageantry of the elements-and as I watched the firmament, I knew that someone other than the Creator was painting the picture.

One morning on the river I stared in amazement at the scene before me: Mountain By God; Cloud By Monsanto. I had the insane thought that Life was really like "The Truman Show"… all this time I thought clouds were caused by humidity in the atmosphere-surprise!--they are really sprayed from airplanes!

Even while relaxing for a few laughs with the Griswolds in the movie "Vegas Vacation," I was stunned to see the obvious contrails in the sky. Filmed on location in the Nevada desert, the streaks of chem-clouds add to the atmosphere of Area 51 and the toxic post-nuclear landscape.

My Personal X-Files
I researched the "chemtrails"⁽¹⁾ on the Internet, and still, I didn't get it-What is the point of this? If this is weather modification, involving superheating the upper atmosphere with laser beams, moving the jet stream, creating drought or deluge-who is the enemy? Where can we go, where this isn't happening? I was running around like…well, like a chicken with its head cut off.

My husband questioned my assumptions and asked me: If this stuff is so bad, why aren't there dead birds dropping from the sky? I couldn't answer that-but the next day we found a dead hawk in our ditch. Hawks fly higher than other birds, and I thought it ominous.

I doubted the warning that standing there just breathing chemtrails would lead to illness. It appeared as though the clouds stayed high in the sky, drifting about, and on a windy spring day they seemed unlikely to come down and land right on us. If they were to drift and blow, who knew where they would land? This would seem to be an inexact science. My friend who lives a hundred miles northeast on the Continental Divide reported one day that he saw a boxy, rectangular-shaped "cloud" of stuff bobbling by at low altitude, remarkable in its otherness.

Perhaps this X-factor was a test of my faith, to give equal time to the whole they're-out-to-get-us- germ-theory perspective rolled into a black-ops conspiracy…or to recognize that we are on a higher path and we can adapt, that our immunity is an expression of Innate Intelligence. Hence, yes: to Trust.

I really wanted to do that. Instead, I felt compelled to point to the sky-"See that X? Who is the target?" Not a good look for me, by the way-the squinting, squirming Chicken Little look. I was ashamed of myself for having so much fear. I was getting a stiff neck.

The Gift
The Rune of Trust, as I called it, was from a book called The Healing Runes- kind of a Twelve-Step revision of the popular new-age manual of the ancient divination oracle-a therapeutic sequel, if you will. The significance of those mysterious inscriptions, the Runes--elements of the Etruscan alphabet passed down from shamanic roots approximately 500 B.C. through many civilizations-- holds that microcosmic events are expressive of a single, undivided consciousness. The essential unity of our little world and that of the greater Universe of land and sea and stars compels us to comprehend every external event as a reflection of the Truth of our inner being. Everything is meaningful-- if we can only recognize that unity in our daily lives.

When I researched the source of the X rune (Gebo) in the original Teutonic texts, a whole new level of meaning emerged. Literally a gift, or offering-the symbolic meaning is "sacrifice of the lower for the higher."

(I remember reading Hopi prophecy about the Day of Purification-- that cobwebs would be spun in the skies. What, then, are these spun-glass cotton-candy faux clouds, rainbowed like an oil-slick on a still pond, masquerading in the sky as the gift of the Spider Clan? What part elemental, what part artifice?

I watch, transfixed, as they open into graceful curves, segmented like a brain and spinal column, an angel windswept with lacy wings, an ocean of weatherless waves… Outrageous sunset displays of luminescent grids create flaming crosses to the west, spider webs in which we are caught, suspended in a mystery.)

Can you say…biomonitoring?
I pondered how the little deer mice of the Navajo reservation suddenly embodied the deadly Hantavirus which fatally afflicted even the young and strong who chanced to breathe it… and I wondered about the X's, working their way down the food chain, concentrating in the indicator species-like the little deer mice. Could this be some sort of bio-monitoring system? ⁽²⁾

If I had hidden inside when we were getting spritzed, I wouldn't have left home at all for months. Many people I knew were complaining of allergies and pneumonia and weird flus that I never got-which I attributed to the fact that I was healthy, unmedicated and unvaccinated- and so I walked, and I watched. I did, however, manifest an intense acute bladder infection, the first and only, which I knew intuitively was emotional. I was pissed off.

Truth and Consequences
We planned a trip this summer to the East coast, and I felt I could breathe deeply as I got on the airplane. As we cruised over northern New Mexico, northwest of Taos and up into southern Colorado, I watched from my window-seat, incredulous: sprayer jets "sky-writing" over remote mountain country, weaving a cloud of chemtrails way high above the low-flying cumulus puffs. One jet streaked right over our plane, laying down a signature white trail of spray. I pointed it out to my husband, who chuckled: It's true-they are following you everywhere! (He believes in a Higher Truth than this chicken-shit.)

We landed in Portland, Maine and headed north to the far reaches of Aroostook County. Beautiful skies, rain and sun accompanied us on our voyage through the forest. The first morning in our cabin on the lake I came out to the dock with a cup of coffee and looked across the water to the distant marsh where we had seen a family of moose from our canoe last year. I raised my eyes to the sky-and there was a sprayer-jet spewing a fat white chemtrail across the sky.

I talked to a young girl who lived on the lake; she rode her bicycle up and down the road every day in fine weather. She knew immediately what I was talking about: "Oh yes, " she said, " the airplanes spray out these skinny lines that get wider and bigger and turn into big clouds over the lake. I see that all the time, almost every day." This is pristine northern Maine - moose country.

The Silver Lining
Can you imagine if squadrons of unmarked military tanker-trucks were to drive through our neighborhoods, spraying us with impunity (and god-knows what-else)-would anyone protest? And yet this blatant drama goes on in full view in the skies above us, for years in fact, and no one notices.⁽³⁾

That is, until you point it out to them-then it is undeniable. There are real things happening, and there are people's perceptions of what they see--truth and psychology intersecting in a giant X over our cities and towns.

Truth appears relative in the changing stream of physical phenomena. Real truth is found within, not out there. Is this an evil genocidal conspiracy, or is it what I saw at the time-All from God, even the things we cannot know and will never understand. Through mirror images and mazes, we strive for a higher path. We can only trust.

Driving I-95 south through the vast timberlands of Maine, I felt a sense of relief. I was frankly disappointed to see the familiar jets painting the sky above Bangor, and then heavy spraying over Augusta, the capitol. The sky was crusted with cirrus contrailus refracting odd colors in the afternoon sun.

I got accustomed to the sight on the East coast-- the sky streaked white with lines, accompanying us even as we crossed the Delaware Bay on a ferry. Spraying in a humid climate was not nearly as obvious as it was in the wide open spaces. Invisible planes were somewhere up there, hidden by the low skies. No rain fell, and the grass was parched brown, the cornfields stunted. I felt like I was sleeping under a blanket of blown insulation.

Our friends in Washington D.C. live near Rock Creek Park; they reported that after a lengthy drought, a pouring rain rushed down into the streets and foamed into thick, sudsy bubbles everywhere. They could only surmise that the stuff had washed down off the trees.

The X-Factor
There are numerous theories and rumors postulating a wide range of motives for the spraying. The detection and the decontamination of chemical-biological (CB) agents are among the plausible objectives. The fear behind this program is that our nation is in a state of national emergency, and that chemical-biological weapons can and likely will be deployed in the US against civilian populations, and that we must develop a strategy to detect and diffuse these agents should they be released intentionally in our atmosphere by terrorists.

Spraying a grid of chemicals in the atmosphere can be used to satellite-track spectrum analysis using ultraviolet light, to locate a ground-release of anthrax or sarin gas, for example. Chemicals have their own special "signature" as do life forms and bacteria-each producing a specific wavelength. ⁽⁴⁾ The characteristic X's also identify local formations, facilitating the tracking of their position, movement and drift using satellite telemetry.⁽⁵⁾

Some of the sprayed aerosols could be to "decongest" or render harmless the test bacteria or viruses which have been introduced. Aerial spraying is being tested for decontaminating a wide area. This entails saturating a large area with a relatively harmless agent, and then selectively spraying the decontaminant over portions of the infected area. If the agent is capable of producing moderate illnesses, the effectiveness of the decontaminant could be determined by observing the areas of outbreak. (This might explain why the 1-800-IVE-GOT-FLU tracking system was set up by the CDC, which only considers qualified flu cases as occurring in a specific area and a specific timeframe.)⁽⁶⁾

Pursuant to an act declaring a national emergency to exist due to the chemical-biological threat, signed by President Clinton in November 1994 and extended in 1997, our government has committed billions of dollars annually in research and development to experiment on us against our will, without our knowledge or consent. ($1.4 billion is dedicated to this program in fiscal year 2000 alone.) The declaration of "emergency" precludes the legal necessity to inform local officials of their intentions, or to ask for permission from the public to be guinea pigs. (see U.S. Code, Title 50, Chap. 32 Secs. 1515 and 1520) This privilege is being abused to an extreme by saturation-spraying our entire population without informing anyone. ⁽⁷⁾

According to an L.A. Times article by Paul Jacobs (8/99), in theory, hostile countries, apocalyptic cults or roving terrorists could deploy killer microbes, creating havoc on the battlefields or in our cities.

Somehow this doesn't make me feel any more comfortable about my own government playing these wargames on us.

Dr. D.A. Henderson of the Johns Hopkins School of Public Health wrote in Science earlier this year: "The release would be silent and would almost certainly be undetected. The cloud would be invisible, odorless and tasteless. It would behave much like a gas in penetrating interior areas. No one would know until days or weeks later that anyone had been infected (depending on the microbe.) Then patients would begin appearing in emergency rooms and physicians' offices with symptoms of a strange disease that few physicians had ever seen." ⁽⁸⁾

The Rune of Trouble
The capability of the medical community to diagnose unusual pathogens is of particular interest to President Clinton, stressed in his program "Preparedness for a Biological Weapons Attack." Environmental News Service has quoted Secretary of Health and Human Services Donna Shalala as saying: "The tracking system becomes very important, the surveillance system, because, frankly, if there is an outbreak in any major metropolitan area, people spread all over that metropolitan area…That kind of tracking system at the national level, working with local officials is what we've been building here, starting, actually, when we started in the administration, but with a lot more energy over the last two years because of the President's keen interest and the investment of substantial resources." ⁽⁹⁾

Occasional bits of news have been released in the papers which deal with the scientific development of "novel ways" to detect and block bio-threat agents. A beneficiary of increased federal spending in the bio-technology sector, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA) with a current budget of $146 million a year is developing unconventional pathogen countermeasures, such as an aerial "disinfectant made of soybean oil-a microbe-killing mayonnaise that should be harmless to humans and even edible…" Other researchers in the private sector are re-designing protective gear, including a 21st century gas mask which converts CB agents into carbon dioxide. ⁽¹⁰⁾ (On that note, recent federal laws now prohibit the selling of gas masks to civilians. You can buy a gun, but not a gas mask.) ⁽¹¹⁾

A primary military objective is to use the public as biomonitors, to test whether or not our medical system can detect foreign pathogens, or whether we can adapt to the "inoculation" of our environment. Like the canaries in the mines, we are an indicator species, breathing a spray-soup nanobomb of everything from irritating polymer fibers, jet fuel and pesticides, designer microbes, DNA fragments and aerosol vaccines, to mycoplasms and aluminum droplets-presumably to monitor our detection systems and protect us from terrorism.

It seems certain that these atmospheric agents could be contributing to the epidemic of allergies and pneumonia that we all know is occurring. One possible intention could be to inoculate the entire population against anthrax or other CB threats, because the people would never agree to undergo such vaccination en masse--there is great arising concern as to the safety of vaccines. Consider the problem they are having convincing the military that they need this particular vaccination. The military is committed to forcing anthrax shots on all enlisted personnel, knowing, as they must, the risks involved. Could it be because of the certainty that they will be exposed to this threat in the course of their duty?

The Albuquerque Journal has reported briefly on the mysterious outbreak of anthrax among western cattle, and the discovery of plague in New Mexico rodents, cats and prairie dogs.⁽¹²⁾ Recently a front-page article disclosing very little actual information was published in the Journal, concerning an obscure program at Kirtland AFB called "Agent Detect Weapon."
The logo showed clouds with big blue drops coming out of them, and a beaker of bubbling chemicals, divided by a bolt of lightning. ⁽¹³⁾ It sure looked like a big-time Rune of Trouble to me.

This Chick is Toast
While in Maine, I happened across an article in the Bangor newspaper regarding an atmospheric test to be conducted by the Los Alamos National Laboratory which would release harmless "simulated biowarfare bacteria" (Bacillus globigii spores) to determine whether or not the "toaster-sized" detectors would capably recognize the presence of these non-pathogens in case of a terrorist attack. (In point detectors, the ambient air is sampled and exposed to various reagents to find chemical signatures indicative of CB contaminants.) Alert sky-watchers in Los Alamos/Santa Fe objected to the plan, so the lab backed off on the $500,000 test (one test, mind you, one-half million dollars-multiply that by how many?) due to massive protest.⁽¹⁴⁾ I never saw this story published in our "West Side" edition of the Albuquerque Journal, although I am told the Santa Fe New Mexican reported the "alarmists" to be extremist-fools and tree-huggers clamoring that the sky is falling.

Chicken Little Apologizes
Chicken Little is sorry to say-it is falling, really. The sky. It's falling.

One Sunday morning I was strolling down the ditch in Corrales when I was stopped in my tracks, dumbfounded at the sight of a huge, fresh X smack in front of me, and all the players-the high jets zipping and dipping, the deep-throat spray-guys cruising north, the black helicopter and the wobbly white government prop-plane, surveying the scene from different directions and altitudes.

A man came suddenly around the bend, and we gazed at the drama above us. He looked at me standing there, and said, "Some kinda subtle mind control, ya think?"

Is it all in our minds? This has been my personal X-files-to unravel this mystery. I wanted to know the true purpose. I may be chicken, but I'm nosy. Should we be grateful? Give us this day our daily spray? What's the big deal with a little spritzing? Hey, as long as we get some rain in this desert, who cares how it works.

There is nothing new under the sun--the story has been the same for aeons, as we wage war on each other, our planet, ourselves. So many things to worry about-pollution of our water, soil and food, destruction of habitat and health, political and personal pain.

That sexy X, subliminal messenger, hidden persuader; now collapsing slightly out of symmetry, angles more acute, subtly changing to the Rune of Shame: Nauthiz, literally meaning the necessity to endure, or the will to endure. In its most mundane sense, this rune signifies the service that must be paid by a vassal or serf to his chief or lord. Though we may have been sold into bondage, a note of hope underlies this interpretation in the Old English Rune poem: it can be "transformed, for the sons of men/ to a source of help and salvation, if only they heed it in time." Suffering then becomes a divine instrument for teaching spiritual wisdom.⁽¹⁵⁾

Lift up thine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh thy strength…
How much of our pact with civilization-our social contract-is implied consent? Do we have the power as individuals to transcend the sins of our fathers, the fears of our mothers? We have a long way to grow. In nature, a species is strengthened by its predators. We will endure, if we can adapt. With our hearts and minds attuned to the frequency of love rather than fear, we can transform our shame to courage, our hope to trust.

Get Real
If this warning serves nothing more than to remind you that that even the best intentions can be based upon misguided "science" and flawed thinking; that you have the right to breathe clean air; that you deserve to know what you are being exposed to, and for what purpose---then Chicken Little will go back to pecking and scratching for a living.

Get Informed
Check out the website links listed below. Become informed. I know it is not as amusing as a good joke, but maybe you can forward this letter (or link) to your friends so they can decide for themselves whether it matters to them or not.

Write to your congressmen and elected officials-they need documentation from the public to counteract the utter abdication of the mainstream media. Tell everyone you know to pay attention to the sky. Take a deep breath. We are all still looking for that higher path.

Look Up!---
C. Little

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to:chickenlil@roadrunner.com

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