A Necessary Celestial Conspiracy

(From the Desk of George Barnard).

Some few days ago an 11:11 Progress listee wrote: What is the difference between being a member of the Reserve Corps of Destiny, and being a member of the Cosmic Reserve Corps of Universe Conscious Citizens?

My answer may well have been inadequate. I proposed that the Reserve Corps of Destiny included all members who had either a conscious, or a totally subliminal working relationship with the Midwayers, whilst those of the Cosmic Reserve Corps of Universe Conscious Citizens were those who specifically knew with whom they were engaged, and for what overall purpose—the good of all.

The inquiry brought to mind a hilarious happening of long ago. It made me think there might well be a third category—universe conscious and subliminal—those subject to a necessary Celestial Conspiracy.

Something Would Have to Suffer.

Back in the 1970’s “things” were getting too much for me. There was my family to care for, a factory with almost 20 employees, and a clinic that was evermore in demand. As well, there was my service club and my trade association of which I was one of the technical advisors. I would need to trim the “duty roster” down to size, or potentially lose the storyline entirely, breakdown, crack-up. I was simply exhausted, and needed to act, or soon suffer the consequences.

The service club would have to suffer, but my friends would forgive me if I took a respite, a break, for three, or maybe six months. It was more difficult with my trade association, because we had a lot of new projects going at the time, and I was right in the middle of some of these projects.

It took almost a year before I rejoined the technical committee of my trade association, and at the following meeting all twelve members were presented with samples of the two products that had been manufactured in quantity during the period I had been absent.

It was silent for a time. All members seemed to be waiting for me to comment as I scrutinized my two samples in turn. All eyes were on me, for some strange reason. Then my friend, Nathan, spoke up, and this is the conversation as well as I can recall:

Nathan: “That’s all we’ve been able to complete, George, but some other projects are moving along.”

George: “These are first class quality. I love ‘em. You guys did really well!”

Nathan: “I’m sure everyone here is pleased to hear you say that, George.”

George: “Credit where credit’s due, Nathe. Genius-level ideas, both of them. These will bring in a lot of business from advertising agencies, and from customers, direct.”

There was a roar of laughter from all members. It seemed to never stop. I was getting mildly uncomfortable about the fun they were all having, because they were all laughing at me.

Nathan: “George! Hey, George! Do you want to know who came up with these genius-level ideas of producing these things?”

George: “Did you?”

Nathan: “No! You did, you flaming idiot!”

I only vaguely recalled. Obviously, both suggestions had been Midwayer input, and the Eleven-Eleven had taken the memory out of my mind for a time, as they always did. There were daily projects, a bombardment of Midwayer input around the clock, and “stuff” to act upon.

In retrospect it is more than doubtful that I would have remained sane if, in my own mind, I had been allowed to systematically summarize the ongoing involvement of so many years.

The Midwayers took away the memories so I could live a normal life for most of the time, be ready to act if the need arose, and without self-analysing, or self-sabotaging my involvement with them by getting too overwhelmed.

It was a necessary Celestial Conspiracy.

11:11 Angels