Imagine you were asleep. The sheets were crisp and clean, the bed feels so supreme and you are getting some of the best rest you ever could have. Would you like to rise from this? No? What if you did and discovered what you thought was private and solid was actually constructed within a palanquin that was suspended on the shoulders of six. In effect you really were dead. And you thought you were just dozing. See why its easier to fool people than convince them they have been fooled? Add into this the fact that flesh and mind it builds via the senses is deceptive, edited and (worst of all) in cahoots with the illusion you’ll see its a time ripe for confusion and delusion. All because people are snoozing and think they see, perfectly.
The other day I went fully multidimensional. Not a quick fly by, like previous attempts, but an actual boots on the ground walk through instead. Things were much slower this spin because it wasn’t my mind doing the talking but my flesh that speaks as I listened, earnestly. I have said before that the body is the subconscious and this theory entirely proved itself because the parts you dare not breathe in are where the truth of what I said is hidden from the collective.
Time stopped having any meaning. The illusion of this life was dropped like a welders mitt that was covered in pains of events I had no business clutching. And yet, like a drowning man with a brick, I was too busy working against my Self to realize I could loosen my grip and maybe swim my way out of this. Not only that but I was so caught up in my own narrative I didn’t realize there were some who actually came into the water to frolic and were actually quite enjoying it. Life never gave me any water wings or swimming lessons. No. They threw me in at the deep end, beaten, bruised and bleeding as they handed me a brick that knew the truth of the events I’d Witnessed but suppressed. As such I simply could not let go of it. Even when I saw the sharks swim and struggled against the elements I clutched to my suffering like it was the path to my salvation. Ironic because that is exactly what it is but the realization that strength comes not from holding but relinquishing was new to my paradigm.
In all things we must strive to be balanced. To reverse engineer the problem of living one must see beyond Yan and Ying to grok that golden Psylense in the mid that makes it all possible. Everything moves around it yet its perpetually still and unchanging. The noiZ which desecrates its existence with its own harmonics of din that bring their own distractions and problems badged as solutions is that with which most people are intimate. Its also why the idea of being totally isolated and deprived of all sensory input for an extended period whilst floating appeals only to a small subset. Of them only a fraction will put the effort to actualize this. Case in point:
There was a floatation tank place on my doorstep. I noticed it the day it first opened, even called in and spoke a bit but, oddly, never made an appointment nor went. At that point I was, IRL, totally unaware of the brick I was clutching as I was flailing because I was too busy creating the fabrication in my head that I was actually cool and elegant and none of this phased me. My mind says one thing but the dysregulation of my nervous system brings a different message. I literally had to die in order to see this trick for what it is because only a huge lie can uncover a greater deception. In that respect my frenemies truly delivered. Signed, sealed and almost executed. And yet, he is risen.
Throughout the ages, throughout the times and lives these various densities bring with their own form of corporeal manifestation I have been the same. I feel like a sculpture that has been chiseled from the excess of various lifetimes. I cried and wept at the stress which comes with the suffering as I wondered how those with the tools could be so barbaric and yet, what stands revealed is what its always been. Without the bells and whistles that were part of the deception to lock one in this realm.
I’ve always had issues with digestion. Always. So much so that I was the type that would rather throw his food away as a child, pretend to be fed and get back on with the business of playing. Nothing to do with the dish plated but everything to do with the fact that even back then there were facets of life I hadn’t digested. The glue of ten dimensions that holds us in thrall is pretty weak, in that respect, but then the hit of the opiates which kick from dairy and gluten allow us to feel a pleasurable numbness when the cascade kicks in. The interplay of the mix where information and actualization happens is breathtaking as well as granting because that is the most intimate exchange one can possess. Those who know about the light that comes with induced darkness once you flip the gas switch and sink your girls into the abyss only to bring them shining out the other end will no doubt get why the French word for orgasm means “little death”. There are huge hints strewn around through all of this and yet no one has taken the time to unweave this common thread from the various disparate narratives and see where it lead. Well, I did and what I’m speaking on is what followed by pulling it and seeing from what it was woven, where it attached and its true point of origin.
Have you ever seen those infinite pools? They’re like wet treadmills in the respect that the tech creates an approximation of motion when, in reality, you haven’t moved an inch. Pretty good parable for your life at this moment because many will say its the water they crave as they wax lyrical about this topic and all say the same thing in different tongues then argue about it. The mystic discerns the truth and how its all about the wavelength and thus he clicks that this infinity mimic is hiding the truth from his vision. He sets off in search of the ocean. Along the way he finds out the brick he was carrying contains all the instructions needed to end his suffering but by then he’s neck deep in the waters. Oh yes, did I mention that the difficulty level continues from one incarnation to the next? Meaning that you may have got to the stage previous that noted the pools trick, actually ventured to find an ocean, groked the nature of the brick and were just about to release it when you drowned. Next spin? The baby is literally thrown out with the bathwater and into the ocean, complete with a similar sized brick it inherited from parents doing laps in the pool and thus the child thinks “Not this mess again!” and starts crying.
Life is a cruel mistress in that respect and in many ways she is only happy when your pips are squeaking as that is the time you’ll truly look within and attempt to find solutions from the problem of living in the flesh on a planet that floats in the abyss as it chases a fireball through a vacuum. As the base totality of your reality thats pretty crazy, isn’t it? Then consider the madness you layer so high on top of this cake of ignorance before you dive in and only then realize you can’t swim. It used to be like this. I’m typing this from the beach instead and the intent is to share it to show there is another option than stepping on that watery treadmill. You want the motion, the freedom, the wavelength and resonance. In order to get this one must first be willing to see the trick of the pooled resources and programming of the collective. Only then can one, trunks in hand, reach the ocean and remember what they’ve never forgotten – just misremembered how to access.
All of the mystics, whether linked with a denomination and speaking their language or freelancers like my Self say the same thing, at the end. There are words about events and then there is primary sensation. Its why gnosis is so important as once you know, you know and there is no need for argument because we both have our own interpersonal imperience of the inner realm and thus conflict is greatly lessened. This is actually why the world is how it is because people are fighting to champion their particular wave like motion whilst missing the fact they are the intent which shifts these particles into coherence by simply glancing. Welcome to the power of the Witness, my friend, or (as the devout ordain) the word made flesh. And what is this spell? This magic rite we’re all seeking and falling over ourselves as we wield bad translations that mangle it presence from a position of ignorance? The Psylense. Can you hear it?
Its the one common thread throughout not just all of walking the planet but all of our existences, everywhen. In that respect its akin to the canvas upon which we paint the image of our lives. How many pay attention to this most basic element when they’re busy promoting their wares? “Look at this ink, these symbols, this is worth dying for and living. Killing as well, in case anyone dares sketch different“. Such is the song modern man sings and thus missing entirely the blueprint. The Psylense. Can you hear it?
To try and speak of life in higher realms to people locked in to the five sensory depths is akin to a bee flying around the trading floor of a stock market. Sure, there are things happening and the data is voluminous but it lacks what it takes to comprehend or make sense of these events, even though its surrounded by them. In many respects life on this level is just like this because the layers of ignorance and conditioning are so rigid its akin to wearing a welders mitt for your entire existence and then attempting to intuit the feeling of sand running through your fingertips. You need to first realize the nature of the Adulterant, take steps to remove it and then prepare yourself to actually feel again as it can be a bit much to take in. I’m now quite certain that there is no difference between a mystic and schizophrenic beyond the fact that the latter drowns as the former swims. The rest, just like fish, are as oblivious to the water they drift within as the bee is to the stock market. It quite simply all is a matter of perception and what signal your consciousness is tuned into in this realm.
Taking it back to the top I’d be willing to bet you have felt, now and then, a nagging sense of emptiness or feeling that something about this life wasn’t quite correct, yes? That is your bodies wisdom attempting to get your attention. You could say this somatic intelligence is wiggling its fingers in the mitt to remind you of the vital principle that animates and is lessened by that which you gained after stepping in to this realm. It throws hints all the time, many run for pills instead to numb the signals as they can’t catch the Knowledge its kicking. In many respects we are Adulterated and thus strangers to Self. Sadder still because there is an imposter sitting there, ruling over the dome of your head, he takes it as a threat to his dominance and thus many will live and die without gnosis. Instead they’ll accept second hand, third person approximations. Thats the welders mitt effect. “Its not for me to feel the sand between my fingers, they were special so its on them” says the voice in your head because it knows its reign would swiftly end if you became multidimensional.
This place really is the pits. Its the dregs of it all. The last chance saloon. The bar at the end of the universe. Or maybe its just the solar systems penal colony or floating insane asylum. The thing is you’re in here with me and that should be worrying because my imperience is so at odds with the entire socially sanctioned welders mitt scriptures that one of us must be crazy. They say the definition of madness is doing the same whilst expecting different. In that respect the path which lead to this imperience of Self was nowhere near what I’d done previous and thus I’m living proof that we have options that are not written in any manual or framed as selections. Maybe thats part of the greatest trick? What if the welders mitt was actually like a mitten instead? So you who have four slinky digits along with one that works in opposition to grip currently think you have far less options due to never having delved beneath the surface of what fits like a second skin…
If you were being fooled and had an option to stay sipping the Kool Aid that was passed at these celebrations or be dragged, kicking and screaming, as the drink was dashed from your lips and thus ensuring your survival by preventing your engagement in something quite dangerous, what would you pick? When its laid out like this is quite obvious but what if that beverage you were sipping intoxicated you with the familiar numbness that tradition, expectation and programming brings and waking up from this meant risking a hangover from hell. You’ll see why recidivism is such a bit thing on the proto-spiritual circuit as many will run all the way to the door of what they’re seeking, knock to get the attention and then run off to hide in the distance as they’re truly scared of the answer to the question they haven’t asked yet. Would you rather know? Or not know? Even if it made every single fiber of your frame rise in fear about the unknown and what it reps? The saddest truth about enlightenment is that one must be willing to step into the darkness to find it and that way lies myths, monsters and madness in equal doses as there is far more to this than most suspect.
What if the life you currently lived was actually a Dr Frankenstein creation that was stitched together from various slivers of your contemporaneous existence in this and other realms? A copy without an original in that respect or a motion picture multiplex that screens all flicks at once to the people watching by editing in bits and pieces of the narrative to create a quagmire which is as odd as it is entertaining. Imagine, just for a moment, someone clicked their fingers and lifted you out of the darkness where you sit, paying obeisance, to the image on the screen you think is reality. Instead you are transported to your own private viewing of individual performances. A few hours later you make your way to the exit and you meet the man who says “Well. what did you think?” and you reply that it all makes way more sense when you realized these tales were part of their own universe with their own message. “I always wondered how that one actor could be dead, alive, the bad guy and good guy in the flick I was watching and now realize he’d actually been cast in different narratives that were stitched together in my consciousness”.
In many respects life is a lot like a dream, it seems. After all, both seem entirely convincing whilst you’re within their grip but its only when you get a broader perspective does the illusion seem quite ridiculous. I say again, if you were being fooled would you prefer to keep going or would you be open to seeing which options are actually available and, most of all, where that reality tunnel you’re digging is headed?
Till we meet again
