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IHDS Articles » Ella Aboutboul

Great Expectations ~ What Every Projector Can Tell You

Projectors have the responsibility to study in order to educate and remind future generations of a system that is fast disappearing. We are here to preserve a body of knowledge that will no longer exist as we cross over the other side of 2027.

That is the message from Ra Uru Hu in his Clarion Alert for projectors. It’s a video that never fails to tickle me with its sombre Orwellian style. I can spot the tone of 'I want to scare you projectors enough so you really get it’. Even the exotic lost Library of Alexandria is mentioned for dramatic effect.

I never knew what to make of this Clarion Alert until I started studying the fascinating Rave Cosmology series, especially the Bhan Tugh and the 2027 courses. The combined information made me curious enough and ready to want to explore ways of bringing such futuristic cosmic themes down to my own mundane and embarrassingly uneventful life.

I started by asking how are projectors supposed to carry the knowledge into the future. And especially - why projectors? I noticed that projectors have a growing reputation for being valuable and trustworthy advisors.

I can think of a number of occasions when I heard people say 'Maybe we should ask a projector about this'. Often it was about practical queries that anyone with some idea and experience could have advised on. However, they wanted the view of a projector.

I myself was approached during a Human Design event by people who wanted to pick my projector brain about a marketing dilemma. I was both surprised and flattered since we had just met for the first time.

I figured it was an act of friendly bonding and left it at that. As it happens I did have something to say which sounded pretty obvious come to think of it. Maybe that's my first clue or maybe I flatter myself.

Maybe projectors can tell what’s obviously in front of them.

A good place to start looking would be with projector children. I am reminded of an experience I had which I will share as a fun parable. It's a story with three delightful sisters - a manifestor, a projector and a generator.

The three girls aged eight, six and three came to visit us with their father on a wintry pre-Christmas afternoon. I was feeling a mix of curiosity and dread as they arrived, thinking about the consequences of releasing three young kids all over my house.

Not only were my fears soon to be proven wrong, but I also learned a fascinating lesson about inter-type dynamics.

The eldest who is the manifestor was the first to come out of the car and enter the house. She initiated a jolly chat with me and proceeded to lead me into my living room while commenting on the place with childlike awe.

Good move I thought. Impressive. Needless to say I was under her spell straight away and I also suspected that she had me exactly where she wanted me.

Next the little three-year-old generator toddled in looking for juicy stimulation. To my dismay she did not respond to me in any way shape or form, and that was the end of that. But once I got over the bitterness we spent the afternoon happily ignoring each other, relieved by our mutual agreement to not bother with social graces.

The last one to come in was the six-year-old projector who cautiously eyed me while exploring the surroundings. There followed expectant silence between the two of us as we waited for the denouement. It finally came when she needed to go to the 'ladies' and I was her natural guide.

By the time the young lady was done we were comfortably focusing on each other. I was secretly fascinated by her and kept feeling that she had something interesting to point out to me. Such great expectations from a tiny projector in the room.

For the next hour or so I was kept busy and entertained by her older sister. We were quite the two grannies chatting and gossiping over tea and hot cocoa while the rest of the party were sprawled all over the rug, playing a game.

Suddenly the projector emerged from a corner holding two treasures which she had discovered. I identified them as crystals that were offered to me years ago as special shamanic blessings. I kept the precious stones hidden behind the fire place and not even my partner ever noticed that they were in the house.

The projector was beaming with curiosity and delight. She approached me shyly while carefully holding her ‘objects trouvés’. Unfortunately for her, her sister was sitting next to me and fully expecting to enforce older sister privileges. There followed a fierce argument between the girls.

The eldest quite rightly commanded her sister to put the objects back and said that it was 'very rude to pick up things that do not belong to you'. The projector stood her ground firmly and looked at me pleadingly.

The projector sisterhood won and I informed the manifestor that it's ok and that I would like to hear from her sister what it is that she wants to know.

Well, she wanted to know if she can have one of the treasures as a Christmas gift. I explained that they are very precious to me. A few more lashes from her sister - who was obviously envious of the discovery - did not deter the child. She wanted to take one of them home and she wanted to tell me why.

So I invited her to tell me why. She said that the crystals reminded her of the little mermaid rock and she wanted to talk to it and to talk to the mermaid. She was going to put it in a special hiding place and have secret conversations with it every night before bed.

Oh go on then...

It was not the charming childlike fairytale that impressed me enough to hand my treasure over to her. I know all about six-year-old princesses and their consumerist fantasies.

It's that she recognised that I have an inner six-year-old spirit underneath my grown-up form. That projector pitched her line so accurately with me that even her mortified father could not stop the gift exchange from happening.

The child won her glittery prize, fair and square regardless of the fact that it was going to be just another toy she will lose tomorrow - as her furious sister did not fail to inform me.

Keep up with the good work I say to the child. We have the Library of Alexandria to help save.
posted on February 22 2015

It's Not About the Money - Projectors and the Material Adventure

Ever since I was a child, making money has appeared a mysterious and somewhat dangerous undertaking. One of my first childhood memories is seeing my father coming back home from his office with big sacks full of coins, looking utterly drained and far too serious.

The following day the sacks would disappear into the car with him to a place called the bank. It was a little worrying to me to think that all this money was going to be swallowed by what sounded like a giant monster and none of it was left for my poor father.

I also knew that those little coins could get nice things for us in the market, which was a whole other business conducted by my mother. I used to follow her meekly between the colorful stalls run by people who seemed to possess an abundance of fruit and vegetables of all textures and smells.

My mother could name what she wanted with impressive command and fully expecting to get it at the drop of a few coins. I was often under the impression that those sellers were left wanting next to my mother's newly acquired treasures, judging by their expressions.

One thing was for certain. There seemed to be a complicated bargain going on between grown-ups that was not at all clear to me.

Those were the exotic sixties when we lived in Ivory Coast and my father owned a taxi cab business with a fleet of cars and drivers. He managed this operation single handedly. He also had his first heart attack at 43 years of age. My father was a projector.

Years passed and it was my turn to try my hand at this unsettling game called work and making money. I confess that I remain that same child at heart who was always puzzling: "How does this work?!"

"How are we supposed to do this?" is so often a question projectors ask when encountering Human Design. Whatever they did so far did not exactly work, but now they are truly lost for ideas, which is probably a good thing.

The world has showed them again and again that things work in a certain way and that they can only work in a certain way. It's no wonder that many projectors carry a deep suspicion that they were born with a missing part until they meet Human Design.

For example there was always a question for me throughout my careers before human design, whether my earned money was truly my own. I always suspected that whatever money I earned was not mine but other people's money.

It was a very annoying concept to my mind, which I associated with being a very late developer. Now I see that it came from an inherent sense that I did not have the capacity nor the consistency to generate money like other people seemed to - no matter how hard I tried to mimic them.

I also noticed that when I did earn money successfully and effortlessly it always had something to do with people feeling particularly moved to reward me personally.

Today I know that those were allies who recognized and invited me to connect with them, and to offer them something that did not feel like work to me. A win win situation. There is tremendous joy in the act of recognition because it brings such a rewarding sense of connection to both parties.

Ah. But there is the downfall that await such valuable realizations for a projector without the entire map. How toxic is the undeserving feeling when rewarded for... no work at all.

Or the torture, on the other hand, of feeling so inadequate when hard work meets with disapproval or god forbid - indifference.

And finally the insecurities of recognizing the deep energy dependence on others when it comes to material resources.

The challenging questions certainly remain when we start our experiment but at least we have a new context.

I am reminded of a young male participant in the most recent Not Here To Work program who raised the question of how projectors who are on their pre-Saturn phase supposed to make it on the material plane, let alone survive the 'sex, drugs and rock'n'roll' phase.

Incidentally he suggested a class for young projectors called 'Drugs and rebellion with strategy and authority for pre-Saturnians only', which is a party I might have to gate crush.

When I met with Human Design back in 09' I was at a loss as to how projectors are to survive correctly. Today I know that part of the journey is not to know and certainly not to do. That's what Not Here To Work really means.

It appears that the other always calls the shots. But the projector is the one focusing on that other very, very closely.

This, to me is a breathtaking fact. That projectors carry such a unique gift in a world where absolutely everything is based on connection.

For the projector it's not about the money. It's always about the other. By invitation.

posted on January 6 2015