In a sense you could say we are imprisoned in a work of art. You know thats true because you feel it in your heart. This is why you occasionally think “There must be more to life than this” as you go through the repetitive Pattern of your existence because, deep within, a part of you remembers when there were more options. Thing is who we Thunk we are is based on remembrance and as you progress along the way that which conflicts with how the Game would like you to be it is is gradually faded or totally edited from your awareness and all that is accessed from your databanks is what confirms your current bias and expectations. Its why winners win and losers whine… Walk with me:
Lets say something terrible happens to you in your childhood. A very traumatic event. At that point your awareness fragments and a part that knows the truth decides to step backwards whilst another projects to the future and takes with it your concept of Self. If someone were to point directly at the imperience you’d say:
“Shut up, what you’re saying makes no sense because I have no memory of those events ergo it never happened”.
In a more everyday frame of reference its why siblings who, once matured, sit and recollect childhood experiences will often find a wide variance as well as things at first glance they don’t fully or even partially recollect. Usually these conversations take place after a few drinks and start with a “Remember when?” as the night winds down but because the state of drinking releases tension bands and events that were suppressed can start to flow again. Interestingly the opposite is also true hence why those with traumatic pasts tend to drink to forget in order to prevent their recollections seeping in as they desperately need a vent and won’t be hidden underneath the veneer of self imposed ignorance. That is another tangent, we’ll consider as and when so for now back to the family reunion:
The siblings sit and kick it then one says this about that of which the other recollects something else. A third gets nothing at all and the reason for this is this forgetting accidentally on purpose that creates the thing we call persona which is actually a coping mechanism, par excellence, and way of avoiding what stressed us back when. There have been experiments that prove how much our memory does flex and the power of suggestion shows how easy it is to edit and therein lies an interesting truth because the past is always present as it influences our actions which in turn dictates the future we manifest. This is why being Centered in Self is so important for the Warrior in training as those blue and red shifts mean business as usual on the psychosocial treadmill for those plugged in.
The sad thing is most people wrote the script for themselves with limited information at around 8 years old and never decided to check in and see it it vibes with all the wisdom they’ve gained since. In effect they take the worst their parents gave them, all the pain that they felt and other modes of low vibrational thinking, stuck them in a box that they labeled “I am this” and dropped it the bottom of their awareness where it sits festering and occasionally unleashes a stench into their mode of living that makes them feel uncomfortable. Most would rather die than acknowledge this and its the root cause of what we call bad trips and what nearly every single form of therapy pays lip service toward but none come close to touching because the method is as intense as it is effective, in my imperience.
You can prove this easily to your Self.
Think of someone you detest for reasons that make little to no sense. Meaning they haven’t attempted to orchestrate your death, poison your pet or mangle you through the divorce courts and won’t let you see your children. Those events, for obvious reasons, are built on other feelings. Instead consider those irrational ones with no rhyme or reason because those hold the key to unlocking a deeper meaning of what we say when we exclaim “Me” because if who you Thunk you are is the lock then imagination is the key you need to twist to become free as all external things are projections from within in this realm because consciousness is all there is and you are this. For fun I’d like you to pick one of these people and instead of thinking bad things why not pay them some sincere compliments inside your head and generally address them as if they were the best thing that ever happened and mean it. See what kicks and notice the crunchy resonance within and any other shifts that may manifest as you progress doing the opposite of what you did when totally at the behest of that voice in your head…
You’ll see why the land of pretend (aka “Pre ten dimensions”) is destroyed fiercely and quickly so rarely survives into the minds of teens as it paints inside and outside of the lines, freely, and that is a threat to those who’d make the mind a machine as that is what they need for you to engage in the chicanery they present as the only way to be as even a fool can see that the special blend of conceit, foolishness and self deceit that forms the bedrocks of most peoples personalities is an assured recipe for misery. But this is what they mean when they say the devil you know is better company because as long as he sits in your head and speaks even if a true to life angelic being were to materialize and say “Come with me if you want to live” you’d take it as a death threat because, to the Opponent within, it is.
Lets trace back a few steps:
The siblings are speaking over their long weekend at which they had a family reunion and in the midst of the grieving they stroll through their memories seeking some solace in reflecting the nature of a path well beaten only to find discrepancies that may or may not drive them crazy as some will ignore, quick, that which doesn’t fit within their narratives as they think “Nope, don’t need the stress have plenty as it is” whilst others will feel the edge of the splinter they sensed long buried in their awareness that they could never previously grip and will eagerly dive in because anything is better than living with it and the discomfort it brings. Example:
Their parents broke up when one child was ten and the other was just about to hit six. There are evidently two different levels of awareness at play as well as two totally different ways to relate what it means and the implications which shape their own private fate. The six year old takes it hard and her heart bears the scar which is why she secretly detests those partners who will mimic the same interactions (after she’s attracted them) so she can then leave and blame them as, on the flip, she moans the death of good men and why she can never find them. There are, of course, countless and she summarily rejects them when they advance as they don’t fit the roles she has placed in her head as the concept of happy endings isn’t something she Thunks exists and by avoiding this possibility she prevents access to the recollection of the event which fractured her awareness as it developed.
Her sibling on the other hand was quite a world wise ten and had seen the writing on the wall way before the proceedings and had built his script and world view before realizing his parents felt an abyss where affection should be present. Conversely, he got married quickly as he fell in lxve with a girl very pleasant and together they raised children who were adored by their grandparents.
Side note, the reason why that one generation skipped makes all the difference is because your parents poured the worst of themselves into your developing minds as kids and saw the effects reflected back at themselves on a subconscious level. Its also why you swore when small “When I grow up I’m never going to be like them” and yet you did as you gradually morphed into them thanks to a script written in the hand of a little kid that you still live due to their influence. By the time they’re older and more wrinkled a general dissipation kicks in as well as the thrill of Witnessing an untainted reflection of themselves so they are way more indulgent and permissive which forms much deeper connections with them than they generally do with their own kids as they were too busy running the psychosocial treadmill to pay proper attention, back when. There is also another aspect of frequencies and resonance and why other peoples parents are much cooler with their kids friends than their own but this is something we’ll examine as we progress into what it means to live in the Game of Souls where wisdom is the label on the cup that contains the potion of ignorance but you never learned to check what they presented as the man behind the curtain did his best to remain hidden hence the Game of three halves you’ve heard me mention as its what you don’t know you don’t know (and thus never suspected exists) that is the key to the riddle of living, wearing flesh, walking around a planet.
Its a dangerous trip coming to this world and the depths of a three dimensional prison as it works on the basis that you forget everything and open your Self up to the influence of those who may or may not have your best interests at heart, as you’ll Witness. Actually, lets diverge for a moment from the main thread to speak on this:
The links and resonance you place so much stock in like siblings, parents etc.. are all earthbound and thus, in the end, total illusions and fabrications. A wise man once said that not everyone you fight is a foe. Just like not everyone who helps and assists is a friend. This is a really, really deep topic and its one that you meet around half way up the peak when you start Doing the Knowledge as the nature of DNA Commands and the rest start to become Self evident. Before you get here you’ll have usually started stripping away the stories you used to believe in a way that is similar to scraping the paint of your persona off a canvas and then reverse engineering this to the tree of wisdom it once was in a forest of magnificence before taking it to the next level and realizing you are none of this but that subtle force within I call Inner Sense that teaches birds how to fly, fish how to swim and underpins everything like silence holds songs within its grip and makes them possible. Back to the thread:
“You’ve got a great life, look at me I’ve got nothing” she says to her brother as they sit and sip after the funeral service.
“Why can’t I find a man like Dad, you know he was perfect”.
“Really? Thats what you think? He would cheat with everyone and anything, nailing whatever was moving. Why do you think the fish stopped swimming when in his presence?“.
“No, he wasn’t like that. It was Mum, she was a nagging bish. So glad I’m not like her in that respect”.
Side note, all of the men she broke up with cheated on her because, surprise surprise, she always accused them of staring at someone else and thinking about how she’d look undressed as well as all forms of suspiciousness which (in her head) justified her actions and squarely placed the blame on them whilst keeping the evangelized image of her Dad in her head safe in its glass house built by the architects Hope & Wish. And now into this her brother comes juggling stones of memories she can’t recall and a sense of petrifaction kicks in because her identify is at threat and with it her motivation for action as the part which was regressed stirs from its long enforced rest and starts bringing up things she’d rather forget. Like the argument about lipstick she overhead one night which pushed him to edge of his tether and he screamed:
“Because she’s not a stone cold bish and actually gives up some affection when its for you I slave all day to provide a home and keep the kids fed but you can’t even do this as microwaving meals are where your skills begin and end. We never should have got married and that is my greatest regret”.
The words were seared in her head due to sheer level of emotion this man of restraint was showing as she was tucked in her bed, supposed to be dozing. Below the argument went on and she could not make sense of the emotions she was feeling, nor what they meant, so her brain saved her from the threat and used them as the basis of her script:
“Men aren’t what they pretend” as the image in her head of her parent was her all and everything so, in order to keep this safe, that which contradicts was buried deep within and yet it still exists as it poisoned the root of all her relationships as she now sits and recollects with her brother after a few drinks:
“Do you remember that night just before they split when they had a blazing row about the collar and lipstick?”.
“Mum never wore makeup, she said its a whores trick to fool stupid men” said sis with her barely there cosmetics applied as the merest hint to accent her naturally beautiful presence. Once again, another piece of the script that was back then writ when her heart was open to impressions and took them all in without stopping to think as that faculty hadn’t developed yet. Upon the ashes of Inner Sense do we build our temple to the Adulterated (false) self where most daily worship and pay their penance whilst gaining a life they never wanted…
“Exactly, thats the point. It wasn’t hers and he was too slick not to do it on purpose. He wanted her to see that other women wanted him because she thought she was gods gift and always rode him about that and this. “Why do you drink so much?”, “Lets watch something else, this show is boring”, “Go and empty the bins this instant” and all that nagging of which I got my share as well because, in effect, I was a surrogate him when it suits as well as a shining angel when she needed something. She was very narcissistic in her thinking and could flip at a whim the role she had in her head whilst fully believing it in the moment”.
“Thats why you shrink heads for living” she says “because you’re mad yourself and this lets you hide and pretend that you help nutcases when its not about them but trying to make sense of the weirdness within”.
“And what does that make you, little sis?” he says with a smirk as he raises the glass to his lips “After all I could do a whole psychological field trip on the life you’re living and yes, I did it to get a grip on the madness we were raised in with two parents who evidently hated not just each other but themselves. You never got to see the depth because he doted on you as someone he could give the affection his wife would reject whilst me he gave life lessons about how to pick the best and the nature of regret and all these other things that were, quite frankly way above and beyond the station of my developing consciousness at the time but gratefully accepted, either way. That kind of insight he’d never bring to your ears because he wanted to keep you pristine and not extend her image into your head and yet…”.
“What? Go on say it, I’m listening” her tongue loosened by the drink but also genuinely wishing to hear a critique of herself from one who knows her well and obviously works with different pieces of the same puzzling messages she got from existence.
“Well look, how are you and Mum any different?”.
“What? I’m nothing like that bish! She was totally self centered and always harping on about that and this. Nothing he did was ever good enough and get this-“.
“Wait a sec, isn’t that the exact same thing you’ve said about all the men you’ve been with then broke up, sooner or later – “he just wasn’t who I hoped within” – Can’t you see this? The Pattern thats working?“.
“Of course not, thats different. First of all, not all of them were cheating. Some just wanted me for my looks and I knew I could do better than them, others had no depth, one wouldn’t settle for what I could give, there were loads of reasons. Don’t try and con me with your psychological BS as you write off my life as a constant repetition of the same mistakes. Its not that simple”
“And yet in the midst of all these no good men sits my little sis. Single till the end. What does that tell you because when a finger is pointing out there are three facing within”. she glares at him and takes an aggressive drink as she feels her defenses raising and an internal army bristling for a fight:
“How dare he” she thinks, thanks to the voice in her head. “Just because his life turned out perfect and he married that doormat bish who is super basic and does everything he says whilst worshipping the ground upon which he’s walking”. “We all know you’re scared of strong women because you’re not one tenth the man your father was and is. Even dead his shadow still looms over your meagre accomplishments so don’t tell what I know about the weak men this world seems to bring to my doorstep to profess their endless lxve when I at least have played the field. you got on your knees for a woman you met whilst studying your GCSEs. A pair of victory Vs that know nothing else but each other. Please, you think thats real? Its just another form of deceit because you control her everything, her entire identity is tied up in fulfilling your needs. Mum would never have…”
“And yet if she had a little bit maybe Dad would’ve been happy, see what I mean?”.
“He’s got a point” she thinks as the drink makes her vision blurry, she thinks about all the fights shes had herself because she refused to concede on a tiny point with her lxvers and then smiled over her pyrrhic victories.
“Why do you think she was like that? I cant believe I’m going to be an old lady with cats when men used to fawn over me but who can defeat father time when it comes to age and beauty?“. He ignores the compliment fishing as he ‘s familiar with the narcissist needs which is one of the reasons why they’d barely spoken for ages. He knows fine well their mother planted seeds on how to be in her mind and she follows the script to a T. Its why he thanks his lucky stars for the fact he got to meet a girl so demure, feminine and sweet who may not have seemed so pretty on the outside but internally filled him with glee and she was head over heels and could barely believe that:
“The captain of the football team picked me? Me? Can you believe it Mummy?” she said, privately, to her mother who replied:
“You’ve got a good man so keep him happy, its quite easy really” and went on to reinforce the lessons she’d learned herself from her own mother previously.
See these things are generational until one wakes up to perceive the nature of programming and this usually takes a raw deal in which consecutive spins of the wheel relieve you of your currency whilst those with a couple of pennies come up and win a jackpot then leave with smiles on their face, songs in their heart and the lxve of the life walking happily beside them as they say “We’re so lucky”.
They sit there silently, each caught up deep in what the other says and how it feels. She starts to see the Pattern her mother imprinted deep and how it repeats as those same fateful screams she heard that night play out as new scenes with different men and yet its her who stands there, the only source of constancy and simultaneously the point of origin of all her misery. Her heart is beating ferociously and she starts to feel queasy, blaming it on the drink. She makes an excuse to leave and then drifts off to a restless sleep filled with extra vivid dreams as something that once slumbered within has risen and wants to speak to a part of her which says “Nein” and wishes to override its decree purely by the authority of primacy as that is whom she identifies as “Me” and discards the other aspect even though its the one which holds all the power in the deal and its what made her feel tingly when she met all these bad men for all the wrong reasons and why the good choices turned her off and she almost gets what went wrong. To admit that to Self is a fate worse than death and she can’t have this and so rises with a sore head and changes not a thing as she comes down to breakfast.
“Good morning sleepyhead” her sister in law says “I’ve made you breakfast, you two certainly can handle your drink” as she looks at her with a grin.
“I really can’t hate her” she thinks “Look at her, she is, in a way, perfect”. She compares herself and then looks at him as he sits, primed like a king surveying his kingdom. “She lifts him up and in turn he helps her ascend“. But she, herself, refused to submit to any man as she sensed weakness within and the one who wasn’t phased by her looks and had other options wouldn’t deign to settle, no matter how much she dropped hints. “Lets just keep it casual, yes? I’m not into relationships” he said and that made her want him so much more as she adored his independence and total indifference to her attempts at manipulation. What she didn’t know was he filled the idealized image she’d built in her head of her Dad where he didn’t hide his indiscretions, instead he owned them and said:
“This is it. Either you take it or I’m leaving” and that filled her with a sense of respect. Up until he left with a “You’ve got too much baggage, go and get your head checked. All the best, pet” and was gone with the wind.
“Penny for your thoughts” says her sis in law as she jolts back to the table and thinks quick:
“Oh, my head is banging. Do you have any pills and a drink of water as I can’t eat a thing yet”.
“Sure” she says and excuses herself to the medicine cabinet.
She looks over at her brother and says “Do you really think I’m a mess?“. He wants to say yes because the truth is she is but he also knows she is prideful with more than a streak for vengeance as evidenced by the destruction she wreaks when men have left and instead chooses his words as he says:
“You just have high standards and refuse to accept second best”.
“I know, I just want an equal so we both get each other. Is that too much to expect”.
“You know, there is a guy who has just started at the office” his brothers wife says as she hands her the pills and some water to drink “and I think you two would be perfect. He’s such a dish and has just moved to this part of the country after a bad breakup, apparently his wife cheated on him because his kid was born with caramel skin and curly hair, just like his best friend. He’s still a bit raw and thinking of going to counseling as he was asking me at the office about my husband and if he could help but I think in this case you’d be the better sibling as he needs emotion not intellect and you’ve got a good heart in your chest, shall I give him your number and we can see what happens?”
The brother sits in wonder at his wifes elegant finesse and how deftly she appealed to all his sisters defenses as well as her impeccable timing and how, on some level, this may be perfect as his sis can now flip the cheaters dynamic from that which ends her relationships to that which starts it instead and where she is painted as perfect by one who’ll idolize her presence not only as revenge on the treachery of those who were close to him as he evidently trades up in the marketplace and she escapes the fate of spending the rest of her life with cats to numb the pain of being single at an old age and thus both will work to keep what they would have discounted previously as they are forced to break the Patterns they’d built previously but, in reality only invert them and thus free by creating the opportunity to think differently.
When you get down to it the vast majority of people in life are living variations on these scripts I’ve called Patterns and they are so common that most simply cannot imagine life without them and thus when they meet someone who is really real they tend to either reel or get drawn in so quick that the “If I can’t have him no one will!” mindset kicks in. I guess you could say thats one of the downsides of being filled with Inner Sense in a world filled with Adulteration but it could also, just as equally, be an elaborate coping mech designed to hide another Pattern as they are, by their very nature, invisible to the one who lives carefully coloring in within the lines they set, back when, as they dress the skeleton of the past with threads of the present hence the sound of one hand clapping is that of silence but, to the wise, this becomes Psylense as they grasp the greater image and it hints about being born perfect in an imperfect realm and how its a fools errand to chase anything as it all takes place inside your awareness as you are the only Soul playing the Game but that, itself, is something that comes a little further up the mountain of Self actualization which is why I’ve said, time and again, that only 8% of the world is truly capable of decoding what I’m transmitting but you’re all welcome as you never know until you reality test.
Break the Pattern.
Till we meet again
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