The Spirit of Lemuria.

The world may be a corpse, but the Earth is not all bad.

Hey I know it’s crazy, but it makes a good metaphor, and it just may be true, in some sense greater than the merely literal. It’s all about this lost race that lived on a magic island out in the Pacific, a land that had broken free, knew no limits. Look at a globe; if you turn it a certain way you’ll see nothing but water. That’s how big the Pacific Ocean is, so big in fact that our planet might more accurately be called Water instead of Earth... All of which may be seen as lending credibility to the story some tell of a lost continent out there in that huge aforementioned water-space--a place called Lemuria, long since sunk to the bottom of the sea. It was populated, they say, by a race of highly civilized hermaphroditic refugees from a magic kingdom called Mu, a race of folks who could reportedly vanish at will and had the gift of extra-sensory perception.

And the point of all this, you might ask? Simple: they didn’t vanish, they now live in California, in an elaborate system of tunnels running under the base of Mt. Shasta. See, California is the part of Lemuria, the very easternmost tip, that didn’t sink into the cataclysmic Pacific on that long-forgotten day. Some escaped the deluge, and have been sighted a few times, dating back to 1930 when an Ascended Master named St. Germain reportedly appeared to one Guy Ballard high up on the mountain.

Be warned: this place is not America, this leftover Lemuria at the western end of the continent. Pilgrims flock to this gorgeous white-capped symmetrical Mt. Shasta, way up north, on a regular basis, and some have spotted these guys, fresh from their tunnels and taking a walk on the hill, dressed in white robes and sporting a walnut-sized sensory organ in the middle of their foreheads. This is my metaphor, this is the Spirit of California, and it really works. This is the way Californians feel about their magic land, their Lemuria. They may not know that word, may never have heard this story, but hang around and watch them a while, you’ll see what I mean.

Even if you’re down in Bakersfield, or up at Tahoe, or if you happen to be visiting some obscure and unheralded corner of the state (and there are many such god-forsaken nowherenooks) you’ll sense it. Every Californian knows that he lives in a very special place, a place wide-open to all possibilities, a place world-renowned for its extraordinary beauty and envied lifestyle, the mere mention of which brings instant recognition, a smile to all faces, be it in Paris, London or Rome. Oh California you live in California---how wonderful. I was there once. And it’s this Lemurian Spirit I’m talking about that lights up their eyes, inspires all the awe and admiration, not just the familiar beauty marks, the famed icons instantaneously recognized the world over, the Golden Gate Bridge, the Lone Cypress at Monterey, the giant Redwood tree with the roadway cut through it, the haunting otherworldly grandeur of Big Sur. No, they’ve come to an appreciation of California’s real secret: it’s where you go to get your consciousness raised. So be forewarned, it could happen to you. Oh I know: you don’t want to have your consciousness raised. Fine. Don’t come to Oz, if you like it back in Kansas...

See, this California is America at its best. It’s what the rest of America only pretends to be: free. You’ll spot no Lemurians in Texas. Nor, alas, in Washington, DC. If Californians are liberal, and to the extent that they are, blame it on the Lemurians... And thank God for them, while you’re at it.

...from The Cosmic Lady Was Right, pp. 303-05

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