Portal to the Stars

Often our greatest mysteries lie just beyond the senses. Suspended in webs amongst the aether, they tug at our minds, inviting us inside to make sense of the games and puzzles which manifest only in dreams.

And what of our sacred lands? What secrets are shrouded by the ice and winds of Antarctica? What teachings bubble beneath its waters? Could it hold a key to labyrinths of knowledge, yet to be navigated?

Some of us think so.

For unlike so many modern minds, we that wonder at the enigma of Antarctica are consumers of ancient knowledge. Deep in the cellars of our greatest halls of learning, it is known that our ancestors wrote truths pertaining to the universe and its workings – truths that, were you to voice them, would have you deemed psychologically maladjusted.

The fools! They know nothing.

Preserved in the scrolls of lost lands and lost times, are the secrets of Antarctica. The words of Arin, Atlantean priest, come to mind – “The area which sees convergence of multiple roads to multiple worlds...where consciousness accelerates…from which the seeds of life were planted…”

It was once known – and shall be again – that Antarctica is a convergence point for many portals. Some to other dimensions. Some to alternate universes. Some gateways by which our brothers and sisters from neighbouring galaxies arrive. They have a vested interest in us, you see – these aliens.

The seeds of life were planted…

So many have wondered why aliens would take so much interest in this primitive planet of savages, we lumbering beasts who destroy everything we touch.

Does a parent not keep a watchful eye on its child? Record their development? Help them along their stumbling way?

It is these aliens who planted the seeds of life in our world, these aliens who so loved creativity that they took it beyond their homes and bore their children – homosapiens – upon this planet. When next you look at the sky, so dark and listless and chilling in its indifference, cry out, “O Mother! O Father!” and it will be as though a rallying cry were sent out to our ancestors. They watch, they wait, and they intercede. Like patient guides, they fashion for us a direction that would be beneficial for all. Foolish are we that do not heed them.

When next you think of Antarctica, friend, may you look beyond its ice, its winds and its waters, and gaze into its hidden depths. May its fertile doorways make themselves known, that the full expanse of reality be felt and understood.

How many worlds lurk beyond our perception? How many ghosts stay cloaked in the chambers? Perhaps these are questions that are about to be answered.

Perhaps.

If we are willing.