Who can deny the world we’re in is red in both tooth and claw as well as intent. If there were a leaderboard for who is winning these innings then I’m sure the wolves would be well ahead and the sheep left for dead. Our own eyes tell us this but these same beings dress in the threads of meek and mildness as they preach the message of tolerance and benevolence whilst the same edifice they represent is drowning in wealth they will gladly murder to protect. And yet, the sheep flock to them.
Make that make sense.
A man I was talking to, once upon a when, got offended when I said religion was a business. He really took it personal. Like I’d dissed his main principles but when I laid it out that I’m speaking on the priest class that said “I’m the middle man to the connect” and how they always step on the product to ensure their profits swell as well as making themselves seem indispensable, he got it. Do you know what a cargo cult is?
The Melanesians, back when, lived lives that were simple and rustic with an emphasis on gift giving that made the one who did the big thing and the rest bowed in reverence to his benevolence. Till one day, Uncle Sam dropped in. What happened next was quite the flex because he showered them, literally, with things they could not comprehend nor imagine till they sipped a cool refreshing beverage they attested must be god given for it was the real thing. In one sense they’d had their pants pulled down, big time, as they could not tip the scales in their balance. On the flip they’d just had a taste of modern civilization which was akin to a caveman staring at a television that showed him his natural environment in daytime when it was outside it was pitch black and totally silent.
The total lack of frame within which to file this imperience did some interesting things to the internal OS of these natives which we see when we flash forward a bit:
A few dozen men are gathered, their chests daubed in red with three letters they reference as symbols of benevolence that left an imprint upon their collective consciousness. With trousers covering their legs and not much else they wave their bamboo sticks which have also been painted as they exchange greetings as they engage in merriment. A distinguished gent wearing a jacket that looks worn and oversized makes his entrance and the natives look solemn as he yells at them. With intense purposefulness the men get into formation and begin marching through the jungles to the peak where a clearance awaits them. What happens next defies logical explanation but, from their frame of reference, makes perfect sense:
We are looking at a replication of a landing strip. Not only this but a plane built of wood rests upon the surface. They even made the control tower as well. If we ask the natives what on Earth is happening they would have said:
“It is how John Frumm willed it and we have maintained the ways of our ancestors as we await his glorious return which will usher in a new age of bliss and unimaginable happiness”. He licks his lips as he remembers that cool, refreshing beverage that tasted like it was fresh from heaven as the bubbles danced a jig upon his palette whilst caffeine and sugar thundered through his veins like an express train.
We, of modern minds and loftier perspectives, look at these pantomimes of the primitive and think they’re ridiculous. “But they can’t fly? Nothing spins? That tower broadcasts no signals and all they knew was the overspill from the United States war effort, back when?”. Think they care or give a damn? Hell no. For them the presence of John Frum was heaven sent so they light their torches, do their dance and wait for their sign and symbol of benevolence to descend upon them and shower them with the gifts and abundance which created the legend of the times the gods visited them, on their fair island.
And yet if we were to mention a similar genesis for events many people now take as gospel they’d probably respond with ill will saying you’re being blasphemous and full of disrespect for their perspective. Well, lets try something else then:
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away a man with a crew that knew what to do had a whole load of planets in his grip. Problem was they F’d like rabbits and he’d had enough of it so he grabbed up chunks of them, killed em and froze their Souls which (for some reason) he bought to Earth and placed within volcanoes laced with explosives. This wasn’t the end. Oh no, its where it all begins because these ghosts of Christmas past decided to have a victory lap slash indirect resurrection by hitching lifts upon the consciousness of the newly forming indigenous peoples. Its what happened before this step thats most interesting:
See, the plan after incinerating them as burnt offerings was to to pack their Souls in boxes and have them shipped off to a multiplex where they spent some time watching motion picture flicks that poured the concepts of what would later become our religions into their etheric heads. The Souls eventually melted and coalesced into one sentient being that had no clue about its true point of origin or the deceit and trickery that led them to being brainwashed by technology. The point is moot, as we will see, because they decided to hitch a lift on the ancestors of human beings and wormed their way inside their minds and influenced their lives and times which would then be filled with rage, discontent and endless aggression in the name of spiritual perfection which, like those magical airships, would never be forthcoming as people engaged in empty rituals from a position of ignorance which snares new generations in via the magic of programming and wishful thinking. The end.
Now to most people reading that seems patently ridiculous and the friend I mentioned at top laughed at such silly things as total BS after watching the vid but when I asked him to check his own perspective via a similar lens at their inception he expressed his discontent at my perceived disrespect. Like I said, elsewhen, there are no limits inside my head and thus a lot of people will attest to my flagrantly line stepping questions but its done with no ill will as it all springs from a place of Inner Sense that wishes to comprehend why this planet feels like hell when it looks heaven sent. Lets check back in with the island peeps:
“Me and John Frumm are one. I speak with and for him and He through me” says the local priest to whom the locals bow, reverently. “We raise the flag at Eight AM, just as the ancestors said and at Four we bring it in”.
“Why do you do this?” you question. He replies:
“John Frumm said “If you keep my traditions America will always be your friend“. His return is promised and He’ll usher in a new age of bliss for this island as long as we keep the faith and do as He said in His absence”.
Here we have a people who had never seen such things as ballpoint pens, tanks and huge metal birds with massive wings as the modern age came careening into their untouched edenic bliss. Suddenly it was all hands on deck as this stream of white men poured into their island and changed everything. Most amazing was that refreshing beverage that they served, chilled to perfection, via a huge box that defied logic as it was hot outside but cold within.
“Such are the ways of John Frumm” said the natives. “They are not for us to comprehend but we appreciate, nonetheless” as they raised glass bottles of that drink that was the elixir of the gods themselves. Forget everything else, for a moment. Junk all of the revelation and general amazement. Lets pretend that you are one of those Souls that the modern world calls primitive but I’d refer to as natural. Everything you have eaten thus far has been from the Earth, totally fresh and completely organic. You move with the seasons. All you consume is as intended and into this mix we throw carbonation, a huge dose of sugar and belt of caffeine as well. Talk about nerve tingling, yes? Sure to make an impression upon the collective consciousness so lets take that effect and multiply it with a billion as they saw, touched and felt all kinds of things that were simply unimaginable. Thanks to the presence of these white men that had many faces but one name:
John Frumm.
“Peace be upon Him, we await His resurrection” said the priest in question as you continue your conversation. He regales the tales of these men who marched in formation as a way of sympathetic magic that made the gods descend with their gifts and send their massive ships. “This is why we do this” he says as he motions to his battalion with “USA” daubed in red upon their chests. Now, you can look at this as simplistic or pitiful but I’d call it something else. Very interesting because here we have, up close and personal, a look at the blueprint of religion. Now, before you get your scriptural knickers in a twist know I’m not speaking about you and your ways which are obviously correct and divinely sanctioned. You can pretend I’m speaking on the infidels and their backwards texts and strange practices that make no sense and thus must be obliterated from the face of planet.
Who was John Frumm? Some say he was a scout that was sent by the military to scope out a suitable island. Others scream it was all a charade used by those who wish to get paid in respect via association. Those who believe decree he was a spiritual being who came to set them free and he’ll return one day. The priest says:
“There was a time, once upon a when, when every man on the island could speak with Him. Truly the gods walked among us and it was glorious. Those who believe, because faith is important, will ensure He comes back again and showers us with abundance. Peace be upon Him. John Frumm may be gone but he is not forgotten”. He genuflects and bows his head in reverence. You can tell that there is nothing you could do or say that would dissuade him from his faith because its a vital aspect of him and his reason for living. “I guess we truly are stories made flesh” you say, to your Self, as you stroll around the beautiful island. What you have seen is perplexing, amusing and earth shattering in its implications but is this bitter pill a little too big for the collective to digest?
Do you know anything about hypnosis? Its quite a fascinating thing because apart from being able to make you hop around squawking, firmly believing you’re a chicken, its also a childs default state of being. Link this in with the fact that the mind of an adult under the influence of a hallucinogen is nigh on identical with what goes on inside a babies head and you have a pretty good case to present that oxygen may be making us all trip! Not only this but just like that on stage programming is totally irresistible to the one who pecks at the couch in his quest for seeds and nourishment we see the ghost of John Frumm is also present in this example. In modern days people don’t believe. “Their faith isn’t what it was” says the priest about his dwindling congregation.
Metronomes exhibit a curious effect in that if you start them off, at random, they’ll soon tick with a similar cadence. Take a pinch of this and a generous serving of what we just mentioned and it wouldn’t be too much of a leap to see how religion could become a weapon in the hands of some peeps that know the deep vagaries of the human machine and how best to exploit such things for their own benefit by staying one step ahead of the rivers that run red from the conflicts they foment. Now, from my lens, glancing at the John Frumm example as documented in the linked presentation this doesn’t seem to be the case for reasons I’ve detailed elsewhen because of how it all kicked. I mean just really ponder that Coca Cola example, if nothing else, and imagine that sensation kicking in as your old world head meets some new age tech that tastes magically delicious. Then throw in all of the rest and you’ll see why they copied symbols and rituals they saw these men who would be kings performing in the hopes of calling back the attention of the mighty John Frumm whose presence was that of legend and known well across their lands.
We, with our loftier perspectives, think quite different and yet do we, really? I suspect there is a lot more to this that the survives to this day than many will countenance without being offended. Like the friend I mentioned. Coca Cola, Cargo cults and BS seems to strike a deep vein to feel one has been shortchanged after such devout investment but isn’t that the basis of the best con tricks because they are usually big and old as the hills. Thats what makes them so effective because once the Victims outlay is questioned you also diss his intelligence and most people can’t admit this to themselves let alone anyone else and thus they gnash and wail as they call you an infidel and plot your end for even suggesting it. This scam is still very common as it works oh so well. There are many people, at this very moment, in relationships that are built on this blueprint and when it hits they’ll act like they never saw it coming even though, to those around them, it was Self evident from the rip. Let me let you into a little something that isn’t common knowledge but known well in certain circles:
The universe is mental. Mind is all there is ergo thoughts are things. Lets pretend you had a pot marked investment in the John Frumm concept. At the moment it wouldn’t be very big and even that wouldn’t be filled to the brim. Lets say the spirit of this great man and his fantastic mission filled with gifts and such promise were to grip the consciousness of billions of adherents around the planet what would happen next? You’d have a veritable ocean of awareness directly at your fingertips to direct as you wished and, best of all, those who were investing would never have a clue or comprehension of what truly was happening as it was so beyond their ken as they’re bought up thinking (Hypnosis state, remember?) that the world is solid, death is the end and the flesh generates awareness. Lets add into the mix the fevered deaths of religious conflict, the yells of ecstasy when sexing in the name of the deity you set as well as the squawks of frustration when you stub your toe on the desk at Two AM when you’re trying to go for a whizz in the darkness with disturbing those who are snoozing. All of that awareness heading in one direction. Thanks to the power of symbols, signs and linguistics.
Not for nothing are “mined” and “mind” homonyms and if you can comprehend what I’ve just said you may have a chance of emancipating your Self from the shackles of being well adjusted to such immense social sickness that engulfs this planet and regain resonance with the divine aspect within that all are seeking elsewhen. Why? Thanks to the instruction which leads to destruction, division and denigration of anyone who dares to think different and deviate from the script that we choose to accept and just like those clocks tick you better adjust your resonance or find yourself gone with the wind as we trim our collective sails and leave you listing. We are, first and foremost, social animals but as the net shows well, anything that can be weaponized will and in ways that seem so seductive that questioning them is ludicrous because everyone wants to get ahead and be just like who they said you should be idolizing and emulating. Its all scripted. A big gang and you ain’t in it.
Amazing, isn’t it? Its why I’ve stated the greatest tool in the hands of the Opponent is the mind of his Victim and this type of programming is so effective that 81% of the planet fall for it, hook, line and sink whilst another 11% get stitched up like kippers with a custom fitted version that enables them to set dress and manipulate the rest via the use of these parlor tricks that I’ve previously mentioned. The remaining 8%, we Know the Ledge and seek nothing more and nothing less than total emancipation from the wheel of time and its constant reincarnation because we click that mind is everything and thus me and the divine are identical – pure consciousness – except ours, at this moment, is tied to the flesh (which simply modulates and doesn’t generate a thing) and the desires in our head that follow us from one life to the next in the Game we’re all playing by using our Souls as credits.
Ain’t that something? Like I said, the surface may seem bitter but I assure the honey reveals itself from within if you manage to digest what I’m offering even though it stands in direct opposition to the sugary sweet diabetes treat they force feed all those who step in before they’re strapped in to the concentration camp wing of the System that programs them to “Sit still, look ahead and regurgitate what we say on the test to prove you’re intelligent” as they sell them the concept of money as debt and near total ignorance of Self in exchange for nebulous threads that ensure the coffers of the oceans of awareness swell in higher realms as they profit from the prophets tales which they use to create artful distractions and endless conflicts which are, oddly, in resonance with other aspects that are beyond the scope of this message at the moment as it would be too many ingredients and extra chefs in the mix for what is relatively simple and sketched quite well, if I do say so my Self.
The rest, my friend, is up to you. Do the Knowledge whilst living or keep investing in the BS? And that stands for Belief System aka your internal OS which decides what goes on inside your head as you run, that way and this, at the behest of a voice that speaks its edicts, direct to your consciousness, and yet most never stop to question:
“Wait a minute. How can I be it when I am obviously that which is listening?”.
The Game of Souls has you, my friend. If I am the messenger then that is the message.
Till we meet again
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