Listen very carefully if you want to unplug from the Matrix:
Imagine you were called upon to Witness a life affirming and breathtaking performance via a ensemble cast of the highest skill that did what they did with a preternatural effortlessness that could neither be trained or gained as it was simply innate. That was the Game.
Imagine, if you will, that a brand new tech was present that encoded this deal within a spiel we can only describe as a holographic reel that allowed you to view the scene via a type of digital fakery. That was the Game.
In many ways it replicated, to a T, that Prime state of being indistinguishably but the trick can’t mimic that which was generated within the state of the Witness when it came to original imperience. Granted, most Souls don’t miss the difference as the performance is still so exhilarating in drawing in those who gaze upon its magnificence but there are a few that turn away and decide to peer behind the curtain as they suspect something untoward is happening at the edges of their consciousness which causes it to fold within where it did once spiral with a golden effortlessness. That was the Game.
Lets pretend, for a moment, that this not yet available tech became something we know quite well. A Game you can play with great graphics. Granted its drop in fidelity and resolution compared to the Prime is immense but what it loses in one sense it makes up via the presence of a simulated inner realm for the participants who can scarcely believe what they see as their worlds unfold, hypnotically. This was the Game.
Fast forward a bit and a new low is hit for the collective where the outer now only dwells inside their heads. We see a type of renaissance is sparked during this segment as those who dimly recollect the embers of their Prime state of awareness start to comprehend the nature of what kicks as they tap into a higher state of consciousness which can only be accessed in the present moment. They look back, horrified at whats been, and capture thoughts via various schemes to send warnings to those coming they’ll never heed for when the time comes for them to make their great entrance the collective hypnosis will be so immense that they’ll lack any form of Inner Sense and coherence. This was the Game.
That brings us to another stage. In this part, if we glimpse in retrospect, you could say that the original scene that was transcoded and mimicked into a perfect image before having its resolution butchered and rendered into something close but lacking as it was totally devoid of the depth that, in the Prime, was boundless. What came next is of interest for the calm before the storm caused a Centering, of sorts, in which the limitless bounties of the original were now funneled within the bounds of carbon like tea pours from a kettle. Much like a fresh brew this bag that captures the essence is rich upon first incarnation but gets increasingly thin as time does progress and this brings us to the next level:
Nobody knows anything about all of this as they are now little more than strangers to Self that are set adrift in a hellish realm that, yet and still, carries the external of a knowable heaven thats filled with music and rhythm that refreshes the Soul and spirit with a limitless essence that is as natural and effortless as breathing. The level of downgrade is immense but the Prime thats been mangled in the other steps is still such a wonderful thing that even with the constant bastardization and Adulteration of its presence it still works as intended. The effect to the denizens is beyond seductive as they will grip to the little bit of light that shines within the darkness as the all of everything and be willing to die for it and kill in the name of whatever they said, back when, during a time when they were most suggestive. This is the Game.
To speak on it to one of the lowest state they’d class it a fairytale that has naught to do with the world they face as its so beyond their frame of reference that it scarcely makes sense. Most pernicious is the fact that most of them are pulled by strings via verbal prompting from the dulcet tones in their head that wasn’t present during their first steps but, somehow, stealthily slipped in and set up encampment in a way that makes second nature standard so none stop and question what could be the Prime state. There are, however, a small percent that can flit between the levels but the manifestations couldn’t be more different.
The Warriors, as I term them, are Centered in Self and thus realize that what remains constant between each level and stage is their awareness that manifests as a state called the Witness. To back it up a bit, you can think that this is the you that perceives the voice in your head and, up until this moment, never stopped to question how it can be it when you’re obviously that which listens instead. More proof positive of this reality folding mech is when you lay in bed and drift for it does the same thing and you create a reality that seems both sensible and solid and its only once you come to another vantage that it seems quite ridiculous and totally improbable. This is the Game.
In that respect you could say that, whilst we sleep, we do, in essence, return to a higher state or previous stage before “waking” and sinking back in to a five sensory Matrix in which the dead bury the dead whilst they manufacture proof for the lies they tell that they are both alive and vivid as the kings of the hill and masters of free will. Nothing could be further removed from the truth for if you ask these same Slaves to control that voice in their head that tells them everything they’ll find both the stumbling block that locks them in to this realm as well as the solution via the application of gnosis I’ve termed Knowing the Ledge that allows one to shift their resonance from the noiZ that crackles within to the Psylense its purposefully obscuring. This is the Game.
A word on that term for those who haven’t yet heard it:
You can think of the Psylense as the greatest song in the world with a superlative rhythm as its presence allows the unfoldment of the rest. A vivid example would be, from the mundane realm, if we were to take your favorite track and remove all of the gaps so it was nothing but instruments and the compressed it down into a huge hit like static. Wouldn’t be quite as pleasurable, yes? Now imagine you’d heard it again and again until you learned to tune it out and created your own new base level of numbness and upon this you built your concepts of who you are and when. This is the Game.
Now, lets pretend that someone, somehow, could click their fingers and mute your inner realms. All of that noiZ was silenced and you were left alone in your zone. What do you think would happen?
Yep, you guessed it. People would hate it. They would think there is something wrong with them. They literally couldn’t Thunk of what to do next without that guidance and it would feel most uncomfortable as they were entranced by the grip of a devil they knew well. So well that they thought it was them. Not for nothing is “lived” the same when flipped or the number we link with this presence is identical with the protons, neutrons and electrons in carbon as well as the amount of time spent in this realm, when presented as a decimal. Suddenly “waking” in the “mourning” and placing a “collar” and “cuffs” can be seen via a new lens as you head off to “work” which is naught but “crow” flipped which is long linked with the bird that carries Souls to the land of the dead. This is the Game.
Somewhere, in amongst of all of this, there are a people that have all the correct pieces for transcendence but arranged in the wrong direction. Their Witness bounces between various stages of the Game we’re playing by inserting our Souls as credits and thus they can shift from sheer terror to total bliss as they scream and point at things that others say don’t exist as they’re isolated and medicated via depot injections in their rear end and heavy thrive that never cure a thing but ensure their crazy talk won’t infect the rest who are well adjusted to an immense social sickness that is so old and ancient that mortal minds simply can’t comprehend the significance and thus they become schizophrenics.
Those that place their chips on Self and manage to keep their marbles by creating the Path of Power that is made by walking whilst remaining Centered in Self and realizing what I’ve just said as the way to gnosis realize the depths to which we, as individuals and a collective, did sink and are willing to get free or thrive trying because the small print of this stage is that you can only leave with what you came in with:
Thus the three ring (read: dimensional) circus which is maintained by the machine elves that make up the clown faces which seem, inexorably, tied with life, death and the Trickster myth as evidenced by those who ingest various forms of hallucinogens that, somehow, grow naturally in abundance around the planet that was termed a wheel of suffering, a huge illusion and, most accurately from my lens, an underworld of ignorance that can make hell seem heaven sent due to the amnesiac effect of wearing flesh at this low level of resonance that has gone through the previous steps I mentioned. Lets recap again. Notice that spell says “pacer” when flipped:
A stage play which is beyond anything you can ever imagine at the moment is recorded by a broadband level tech that totally captures the image in a way thats most accurate is then broadcast in cinemas for those who sit, entranced, taking it in as the feature presentation. This is then flipped into a Game they can play at home whilst plugged in to the net with the rest and the general downgrade is made up for with the sense of agency and feeling you’re doing something via artificial connections and various manipulations designed to pull you in to an imitation of a world that was, in and of its Self, perfect. What happens next is of interest as these solo playas now find themselves back in the theater with smellavision masks on their heads much like a VR experience that is backed up with internal stimulation of their five sensory apparatus.
Strange, isn’t it, how a downgrade can seem the opposite from those that don’t know what they miss and are so enamored with what they get that they don’t stop to question why “mind” and “mined” are homonyms. Those pesky Devilish spells, strike again!
At some point previous there were those who saw the trick for what it is as they decided to Know the Ledge. Using all the methods at hand they sent elaborate messages, symbols and images to be preserved for future generations that would come and sink into this mess so they stood a fighting chance in getting the heck out of a hell that seemed to be something else as the devil himself had pulled the greatest trick (with a little help from his children, including the twelve whom he favored in his own peculiar way):
That he was you. And you, my friend, are nothing less than the Prime. The all of everything.
For some this will be a bitter pill that contains the promised milk and honey within. For others what they’ve been munching, for many incarnations, is the exact opposite as they’re invested in sweet nothings that poison their inner realms. Try to make them disconnect from this false paradigm and they’ll scream all kinds of invective. As directed by the voice in their head. Good little meat puppets that cheer at the crucifixion and desecration of those who attempt to save them before the same sinners with mouths agog invert the teachings. Why? In order to keep you coming back for a second, third and fourth helping of this dimension to ensure you never ascend and remained plugged in to their construction which is, in a nutshell, pure Adulteration and the polar opposite of the Prime that is the all of everything and you, in essence.
Pure consciousness.
Lets get back to the sketch we’d began to etch before we leapt on this tangent like a high functioning schizophrenic who is just beginning to comprehend the point of the straight jacket is to prevent him from learning how to spread his higher dimensional wings in order to rise above the madness that is living in a body, on a planet, as it chases a fireball through the abyss.
VR multi sensory experience overlays are now pumped into the collective and the level of stimulation is so immense that it generates a new type of numbness in order to function. In many ways this is far closer to, and yet totally perverted, their Prime incarnation but the process of making outer within then the opposite as individuals are formed into a collective before being cleaved again leads us to the next level:
Remember, a live performance was captured on broadband level tech then broadcast to those who sit in the cinema and take it in whilst making it valid with their presence (trees that fall without a Witness create what type of effect?) are then sitting alone, at a desk, playing something quite like the performance but different before finding a presence that augments and manipulates their sensory equipment to create a novel form of stimulation that is so intense they need to numb in order to cope with it.
As you can tell each step retains a part of the original Psylense but the signal gets overlaid with more and more noiZ as the downgrade kicks in much like how you could, as an Eighties jit, go to the theater to see a flick or wait a bit and buy a bootleg VHS with loads of static and people munching and yelling as some industrious hustler did his thing and kept the streets fed. This is the Game.
In between these two states you could say that a Blu Ray was the first stage when it came to replicating the display followed by the audio visual downgrade that we’d label DVDs before the same process repeats and we see the current level of gaming fidelity that is about to shift to a VR deal as the next step which blends the real and false realms in order to lure new playas in to the predictable web that it spins.
Its all the same thing, repeating endlessly and what you have just managed to feelsee is a peek behind a curtain the voice in your head would rather not have you suspect even exists because eternal life for you means a certain death for it and thus it needs to keep you in the theater of the dead, mistaking it for the opposite. This is the Game.
Now when you hear me say “The Game of Souls has you, my friend” you can start to unwrap the intent behind the sentiment as there is such a depth to this that most people are akin to the inhabitants of Flatland (an imaginary Two D realm) and it feels like I’m attempting to describe a sphere to them as they scratch their heads and say “You mean a circle?”. How the hell would you sketch a hypercube to them, on their level, as they move around in a flat plane based entirely on limitation and ignorance of various subtle processes that first allowed the green shoots to bloom before a a tree came into view that was then nurtured by the elements before being chopped, chipped and processed then pressed into a sheet of paper upon which they base their entire existence whilst being totally unaware of the stages previous, their true power, current position and who is responsible for the scribbles they take as gospel which omit the steps mentioned and render reality at a poor resolution with no true exit plan or solution beyond the illusion of delusion beget by confusion for those hopelessly plugged in to what feeds them to sustain itself.
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
Till we meet again
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