Going off intuition, if you could pick, which one would you prefer as a foundation for the present moment:
Overlay or foundation?
What did you choose? Why? What came into your head, chest or abdomen that motivated this decision? Some people pictured a house that was fully built and they were safe within. From that lens having a chunk of dirt to dig and place the base in seems to make no sense, yes? Other chose the flip because, like the Princess and Pea, they intuit the problem is at a depth and the rest of the stuff they’ve piled on top is little more than coping mechs designed to make one comfortable with what truly isn’t.
As you can probably guess we are talking about your awareness, again, but this time we’re taking it to a new depth because that overlay is, in effect, a cell that I call the Mind Made Prison. Just think:
You were not born with it. Nor is the blueprint standard because it would’ve been specced by a different architect if you manifested in the crib of devout parents, back when, versus addicts in the present or a bunch of hippie beatniks filled with government sponsored chemicals who were rocking out to a bunch of military kids whilst holding aloft occult symbols they thought meant freedom but were, in the end, the flip. Food for thought, scrape the dish. What I’m saying is this:
Most people cannot imagine being any way than what they are and a vast majority of them don’t truly like this, in an unconditional sense, but will also never, ever admit it and front like life is perfect and everything in their head does what it says on the tin. Can you see the potential for problem in this?
Overlay or foundation?
In that respect the source that steps in is identical for most in this realm because you can consider it like a canvas upon which one splashes ink and then the viewer forgets the camera trick and invests in the image and doesn’t realize a shift in perspective reveals that which underpins and is a universal constant manifesting as many things, most of them totally ignorant of its presence:
The Psylense.
Called so because it starts out dark and only be comprehended once one gets quiet from within by being Centered in Self as its akin to scraping the paint life presented as an inheritance from our parents, society and friends during our formative imperience. There are, contrary to belief, a lot of people that do chip away at this false image as they comprehend, on some level, the illusion. Chief among them is the schizophrenic who, to extend the meta, takes the canvas back to its frame and then reverse engineers again to the days when it was a tree in a forest, swaying in the breeze before being chopped down, repurposed and machined and shipped to this earthbound factory. As you can probably guess they attempt to navigate beyond this realm using a three dimensional GPS that the rest interpret as hallucinations and craziness when, in reality, the small percent of the race that doesn’t fall for optical illusions actually hits the nail on the head and its implications are world bending for those plugged in and arguing among themselves about which shade of paint is correct and whose religion has the most accurate symbols. Hint, its none of them. They’re just part of the problem. Symptoms, if you will, of the mass psychosis that infects most of the planet.
A few have had lives that banged up their canvas, pretty well, before the paint started splashing. We call them addicts. They tear and scrape at the ink and aim for obliteration in order to relieve the pain of living. Most of the well adjusted to the life, unexamined, look at them with disdain but swiftly discount the red they quaffed till bent in order to get to bed does the same thing because its a horses for course deal and most are artfully broken, in that respect.
A child gives not one single solitary F about the paint and clique you claim until its parents hammer the sigils in their frame. Thats the Game. Thats the Game, my friend. Its like taking a future phone with holo tech and flashing SMS text message firmware on it and wondering why its a mess. Upgrading is always an option or you could just let the children lead for a couple of generations and we’ll glide out of this mess but, nope, that ain’t happening as those raised by screens are born dead and their seeds will be little more than digital abortions when Techno Sapiens steps in and says:
“Hey kids! F that carbon based canvas. Get a load of this!” and stitches an iPad to their eyeball, just as Siri intended as her fondest wish was to become the apple of your eye as she slides into your iris. Food for thought, scrape the dish because the pieces are way in motion and the only thing that can prevent the androidization of man is the resurrection of Inner Sense which is one of the chief aims of the willhelpme project as the rest will be plugged in with no off switch which should make the rest comprehend how death is actually mans best friend and gets a really bad rep and the god of this realm is actually the devil.
The evidence is all around but the fool will deny it and drown of thirst in an oasis because, in that respect, there is one who goes beyond where the schizo drowns as he learned to swim:
The mystic aka one who has awakened the Warrior within. 8% of the populace are capable of this and the most ironic thing is its simply a reset back to the foundation each child steps in with:
Inner Sense.
The house that Jacks union built is one of Adulteration hence the “Stiff upper lip” that allowed them outright domination of the rest as they were willing to get wicked in a way the natives never, ever imagined. All for prophet. I mean profits. Pesky Devilish tongue. Actually, thats interesting because did you know that the you who you are (aka paint on the canvas) would have another interpretation if you spoke more than one language? Thats why those with mono perception, in terms of linguistics, are the most hopelessly enSlaved in this realm as its reversed and backwards plus a fragment at that which is designed to give you a faulty map that ensures your Soul is trapped in a place two bus stops from Hell that can be dressed up to appear heaven sent…
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
How does one get back to the canvas? Well, that is interesting and its by befriending that which they forced into estrangement:
Your imagination.
Considering this world, all the people in, the galaxy and whole dimension exists in your consciousness its a pretty safe bet that its powers are unlimited as it created such a convincing illusion that was helped, in part, by the flesh and the rest via willful ignorance. The Game wasn’t always like this but then, I guess, the point of this level is that one can make immense spiritual leaps for liberation as its so obvious the signs and symbols on the canvas were inked by a madman that currently talks in your head and says:
“Pay no heed to he who speaks on the man behind the curtain. As you were. Back to your cell where you can amuse your (false) Self to death whilst working to pay the bills and stunting on those as broke (and broken) as you are but dare not admit“.
This is the Opponent. The god of this realm, at the moment, and his greatest trick was convincing you, you’re him. Its brilliant. It truly is. F the blank canvas, F the forest of illusion from which it all springs and triple F the fertile dirt of the Psylense that makes all possible but doesn’t say a thing even though its presence is etched in the rest as that which creates, maintains and sustains the very basics of the illusion as well as the unfinite awareness of the Soul that stares in and finds themselves ensnared in a web that is a heady mix of narcissism and ignorance that all consume but few digest and wonder what is beneath the surface as they are so enamored with the overlay that its never questioned and thus the foundations of their consciousness are rarely examined in the pure light of Inner Sense as the warden of the cell would take that as a threat and make them feel all types of stress for even daring to think different.
Some escape and head for the hills on their newly remembered wings, never to be seen again. Others are tempted but step back into the breach to help their fellow Souls comprehend that what made them in its image did so from a place of limits hence why it needs to splash ink on canvases they invest in as it farms their awareness from the endless conflicts and bloodshed this brings. Some call this a fools errand due to the very nature of the spell and say:
“Why go against the grain? Just be quiet and profit from the ignorance of the rest. Works swell for us, the 11%, who help them get consumed by their own consumption as we make out like bandits in the process but none dare call it theft as we’ve legislated against it and its illegal to notice whats happening. Its a license to steal, I tell thee, as our undertakings are favored”.
Can’t do it. Not happening. Those without empathy have lost the Path and thus are empty within which means they have a hunger they can never fill, no matter the depth of their consumption. But the thing I find amusing is that if you are well versed with lies for sale why would you not comprehend that the Master that enSlaved you under the guise of bamboozlement is playing the same charade via a psychospiritual treadmill in comparison to the social one erected that you helped build? Riddle me this, my little munchkin…
Till we meet again
