In a post called "Paranoid" that I wrote on Dec. 11, 2007, I ended an otherwise pleasant meditation on the state of my life with a couple of dark, foreboding paragraphs:
I'm expecting the storm to break hard and fierce any day now. I can feel it hovering on the edge of certainity and I'll be honest, despite the storms I've already weathered, this one feels like it will be the worst one ever. There's a storm coming, alright. I can feel it. It's gonna be bad, it's gonna hit sudden, and it's gonna drive the memory of the past few months right out of mind.
I hope to high heaven I'm just being paranoid, but you know what they say, "just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you."
Here we are less than four years later and the world is beginning to mimic the Biblical Armageddon. Granted, worlds "end" with alarming regularity, and on one level there is no reason to expect this current crisis to be different than any other. Unfortunately, nowadays I am finding it very hard to focus on that level. My mind is shaped by a lifetime of studies in mysticism, history, theology, and writing. Sometimes the real world falls into patterns that follow one area or another, but never in my life have I seen the world so rigidly falling into a synchronicity of events that meets "last days" criteria in all of those areas. We are right now witnessing events that fulfill both Biblical prophecy and standard decline patterns of advanced civilizations as well as moments of broad-reaching mystic "awakenings". Store shelves both virtual and real are overflowing with dire predictions from academics, theologians, mystics, politicians, and ordinary people caught up in a rapidly accelerating global transformation.
The question foremost in the minds of anyone who is paying attention is, "What comes next?"
Not that everyone is paying attention, mind you. A surprising number of people are content to bury their heads in the sand and either ignore the current headlines or pretend they don't understand the implications. It seems that what I feared would be a personal, life-changing storm has instead exploded into a global cataclysm of epic proportions.
This is a frightening and fascinating time to be alive. I wish I could find some way to put it into words, to write a novel or a series that would capture the chaos, the epic power struggles, the individual victories and defeats, but every time I try to come up with characters and events that can distill the chaos down into manageable chunks I wind up losing so very much that the final product is dull, dry, and lacking in passion.
Once upon a time I fancied myself a writer. Now I don't know what I am. Perhaps I am only an observer on life's stage, simultaneously both actor and audience, and unable to carry either role to its full potential.
The storm has arrived, or at least the leading edge. I don't think we have yet seen the full brunt of this monster, and that worries me. Sooner or later, of course, it will pass and leave behind a world so radically different than what came before that future historians will have no problem marking the point at which the transistion took place.
No pithy comments on the daily news today. No stories of games, no movie reviews, and no comments on the latest book I've read. Just the meandering thoughts of a man caught up in world-shattering times that he understands all too well the implications of.
Unless I am very much mistaken (and I hope I am), this is the year the brunt of the storm arrives. Probably starting in mid-May and lasting well into the fall.
God help us all.