Inside every man, woman and child in this world a war doth rage. It has done for an age as that is actually a stage of the great Game we all play using our Souls as credits. You can read this text for a perspect that links matter with spirit using the metaphor of steam and ice as both are, in essence, identical but in terms of resonance and application its a chalk and cheese thing.
Your mind is the battleground of good and evil.
Always has been, always will. The thing is what if the latter pretends to be the former, makes the lie big and repeats it often? Anyone who dares contradict the script will be seen as a madman, infidel and heretic. And yet the schism is evident because if one looks around this realm you can tell that none of that old stuff worked. Unless its intent was to foster conflict and division – even among rank and file members of the same organization. In that case it was a roaring success and that fits in really well with what people term Eden or the all pervasive Golden Age myth that every single culture on the planet has woven, in some way, into their lineage. That, I posit, was the first stage of the Game in which there was no need for laws, religion or division as man was far more resonant with the all of everything and life was perfectly balanced under skies that bore a purple tint with a sun that never sets.
How do you improve perfection?
Bit by bit, brick by brick until even the outer limestone casing has been stripped and the magic dipped to leave an empty thing that encodes immense astrophysical details and hints at the strength of intelligence that man once possessed. This is akin to being gifted a fine sports vehicle from which one has stripped the engine, cut a hole in the floor instead and told you to get Flintstoning if you wish to progress. These are the burdens of ignorance that man inherits and passes onto his children but, never once, does anyone question why the glow they step in with dims around six and how this leads to a state I’ve termed Adulteration in which they’re trained to sit still and look ahead whilst stressing to do well on the test as they wish to be the best at regurgitating what another says. Forget originality and the deft skills of imagination as well as true cogitation as those will neither be rewarded, trained or accepted in any institutes they beget and foist upon the populace. Kind of like politics in that respect as the spell hides the hints that the “many leeches” are actually pimps and the two wings are connected to the same serpent in the mid that flies overhead and the kicker is that you are this, my friend. Imagine you could step out of the flesh and reconnect your unfinite awareness with the Fifth Dimensional perspective. You would see time as a man sees a lake as he stands on the embankment except the fish that swim through what is previously invisible look just like, you guessed it, serpents. Did you draw the pic? Check it:
On one side you have a huge explosion of light linked to an immense vibration as sperm meets egg and then these cells keep dividing and create the fetus that may have said:
“I remember there was an huge tunnel, as black as pitch, with a light, shining, at the end where I felt someone was waiting who knew me well and they were beaming radiant affection as they anticipated my presence”.
Then one either dips into a dark tent where their mother sits, squatting, in a tub of water, fragrant, as candles flicker and the old ladies sing songs of spiritual welcome and resonance to bring in the next gen at their optimal state of vibration. Or you pop out and drop in to a place that smells mighty antiseptic, is bright as hell and get slapped on your rear end as your connection to the mothership is snipped before you have a clue of what kicks. As you have probably guess the raw materials on each stage are totally identical but, like Scrabble, its what you do with the pieces in your grip that makes the difference between Shakespeare and mere pulp fiction or penny dreadfuls that, in this age, fly off the shelf as peoples attention spans have been decimated so well that they accept, without question, they are the voice in their head and not that which listens instead. Isn’t that wheeze? A great jape, if you will. Not like the great ape they said that, somehow, became a man but the flip as we condensed and devolved which explains, real well, who, why and how they built the pyramids that encode the datasets of the planet and loads of other bits for those who can decode the bricks. Too many people, on the flip, are Flintstones and when someone like Tesla comes along who clicks the script and attempts to tap in to an old tech that seems super fresh they say “Thanks for that one great invention, be sure to tell us if you come up with anything else” then mothball him when he mentions localized antigravity fields for personal flying ships and iPhones way before Jobs eyes were twinkling at the thought of using bitten apples to pave the way to Techno Sapiens hence why Siri spells iris, but flipped. Naught is hidden to he who hears with the ears of wisdom as life is constantly talking, my friend.
The funniest part of all of this is how I’ve just clicked the unfathomable depth of my ignorance as the Path of Power I’d created by walking for lifetimes beyond counting has just segued into the Way of Wisdom instead and that is akin to a fish with wings realizing its actually a dragon and thats why the medium it was within felt quite thick and not as effortless as expected along with the confirmation of his near constant wish for ascent and to push the limits whilst the rest were well trained to run a glass maze that sank into the abyss when the old age did shift as its but the remnants of a time that we now, in ignorance, call myths and legends. Can you imagine, for a moment, you went back a hundred years and showed them a world like this? In Teslas head that was the basics but the Game is drip fed, it seems, by other interests that say, as and when, what they deem fit to share with the rest. And yet, even that has a logic. As bizarre and twisted as it is. Lets pretend this I, magi, nation comprehended just this. Folk were aware of the power of vibration and consciousness thus developed the sense of being stared at the same way we’d hit the gym for a pack of six, rippling. They sang to stones in unison which caused the vibe to shift then they hit the hammer which allowed two hundred tonnes blocks to be chipped and ripped to fit so well that you can’t slide a razor blade between them. A similar thing can be checked in Coral Castle – the maker of which said he knew the secrets of the Pyramids – and how a load of metronomes will start to tick in a common sync as well the madness of crowds and how you can tell, ten times out of ten, when someone is staring in your direction. Thats before we get onto the immense elephant in the room that everyone has felt but no one discuses:
You are alone, at home. Suddenly you look in a direction because you know something is there, present. Cat owners will attest they have, often, watched their pet stop grooming for a sec, look up and track an invisible presence that walks through one wall to the next before they get back to what they do best and focus on themselves. Dogs will bark at nothing then stop when it shifts. Taking it back to the lake of time and the embankment of the Fifth Dimension this is akin to a regular human deciding to walk from one side to the next and the fish wondering what kicks in their midst or if we lived on Flatland and, one day, a sphere popped in and we could only appreciate its presence in segments to which we’d attach a narrative of an immortal that was born, died and then resurrected and could shape shift at will. Kind of like an alien, yes? What if you could bend light at ninety degrees in outer space?
Would that render it invisible and be akin to cutting across the infield whilst the rest are running circuits? Stranger things have happened, my friend, as, to me, the Helical Model of the planets makes way more sense than the Sun sitting in the mid like a hungry Pac Man that intends to eat what it sustains on this immense conveyor belt like a celestial Sushi Express.
Like a tree the truth must sometimes bend to best suit the environment hence there is a difference between thriving and surviving which is why if you take an intelligent man from the current realm and transport him back to one of the ages we had left they would look at him like a dimwit as he can’t speak the celestial language but knows loads about certain elevated humans that dance on puppet strings to entertain them that they call “stars” instead. In the same way you could imagine a boy that was born into a world filled with Techno Sapiens that was taken back to the days, Halcyon, of Woodstock where things were more natural. At a casual glance things would seem identical but yet, under the lid, totally different. After a while he, a strange fish, could look at the world as it is and wonder why nobody seems to question that the ones who sing about overthrowing the government and talk of revolutions are mostly military kids and how the LSD and symbols were handed to them by undercover agents that spearheaded the whole thing. On the flip he could have stayed in his own timeline but chose to turn off, tune out and drop in to a cave where the ubiquitous tech cannot link his awareness into an immense parallel processing machine via the use of silicon pimps and he finds a kaleidoscope of consciousness unfolding in front of his vision that makes him reach higher stage of the Game that are, paradoxically, future memories as well as that age, golden, rises up from within.
Can you see how your mind is a battleground of good and evil, my friend? Pryor once said that its awful easy to recite anothers script and take their penmanship as your lyrics but wouldn’t that be as much use, in the end, as a man on an islands of lesbians? An exercise in futility in which the sizzle reel they sell doesn’t match whats in the tin. And yet, for madmen, mystics and poets the truth is something they grip with either a strong opinion, loosely held or a vice like grip which causes it to fracture as they desperately try and reverse what the builders did with a chisel and end up creating grains of sand instead which, you guessed it, future men will melt and rearrange to create silicon. Nothing new under the sun, I guess, as the poet sits in the mid and attempts to best the fools errand of translating the ineffable with the skill and grace of a man conveying the majesty of an ocean to a land locked Bedouin by making wooshing noises as he moves a cup of water around his head. “No one can be told what the Matrix is” said the ancient Oracle of Delphi before asking you to accept a cookie to progress and by that I mean an oath of silence as her friends unveiled the mysteries of a huge elephant by weaving elaborate tales about a rope that swings, a wall, immense, a huge cosmic serpent and all the other bits that are left up to the mind of aspirant to stitch into a coherent narrative as they sift the wheat from the tares only to find they’re gluten intolerant. Get it? The glue of ten dimensions aka the agricultural shift that birthed the later Industrial Rev in which a bunch of white men set off to “civilize” the planet by whipping the melanin off them with intense subjugation as they scrubbed the record of past things and write off the fact that ancient tribes speak about far distant planets like you do about celebs. The question is, had they met or were they reciting a prefabricated script that was handed to them as a venerated tradition aka cargo cults and BS. By that I mean Belief System. Its like an OS that runs in your head that tells you what to expect and sets limits to color in. Some of us prefer hacking, like the Techno Sapien that went offline and gained a whole nother connection, as mentioned.
“What the heck does this have to do with my mind being a battleground for evil?” I hear you yelp after digesting a few thousand words in immense run on scripts. Everything, nothing. Do the Knowledge, my friend. Prove me incorrect. In the interim you may recollect that A) you aren’t the voice in your head but something else and B) that negative thoughts are there to challenge and I’ll C) myself out from this session of Game lacing with a question:
If you were a candle, would you identify with the wax that drips from one life to the next or the flame, eternal, that, via an immense contradict, makes vision possible but generates a blind spot as well? What if, into this void, did step a pair of tailors we’ll call Pinkus & Fuctus, Inc who sold the whole world an Emperors fancy dress that they, believing they’re free, buy with all the money thats fit to print but, in the end, is backed by nothing but imagination. What then? Stranger still is how those so invested in the camera trick will deny what I’ve said in this text when, to me, its Self evident because if you take a light of pure white and shine it onto a black mirror that reflects you wouldn’t see a thing but, within it, is encoded every single motion pic that ever exists (and will as well) hence why you improve perfection by destroying it then smashing it back to its elements before rearranging them to run up and down the hill of time like a fish that swims with wings which were pinned by nearly two decades of legally enforced “Sit still, look ahead, do well on the test or your folks will stress and we’ll call you stupid which means the other kids will giggle and you won’t get to run the treadmill and buy all the shiny things then go to silicon heaven to link up with dead friends as you get mindwiped and slammed back in the flesh for another spin that may or may not be a water birth in darkness where you mother doth cradle with immense tenderness the fresh Soul stepping in as she sings the ways of wisdom and guidance until she senses your calibration is correct at which point the cord is snipped and you, without effort, swim in these new seas which are but an extension of what you Knew, real well, and thus play a totally different Game on the same stage as you spell something else from the tiles in your grip than JOZXYQK”.
In case you didn’t guess that message, officially sanctioned, ended at the point of stress and most never stopped to check the small print as they run around with that syllable in their head like a mantra of reverence that manifests exactly what they expect as they do not comprehend they’re wearing the tech that coherently collapses consciousness to reveal either what they said it is or way more than that tiny, tiny slice of the EM spectrum that your lying eyes sell as the whole thing. In many ways the Cat was correct in what he said. I guess thats why the Egyptians worshipped them and dog, flipped, reveals mans best friend is, indeed, his Self and that remains constant – whether awake or in bed, from one life to the next, surgical welcome or dark tent of old women that lavish their combined imperience and attention on one stepping in and thus feel intensely validated and special in comparison to being stuck in dank homes of retirement after a lifetime of running a treadmill for a steadily eroding pension and kids to busy trying to keep up with the next and impress those just as broken within.
I don’t know. Maybe I’m incorrect. This is, after all, a strong opinion, loosely held and thus constantly up for revision but, as far as I can tell, the brain doesn’t create consciousness but modulates instead and that is akin to dismantling an exhaust to see how the engine functions but, then again, you may just click the motor is missing or maybe it was always present but most didn’t click the starter to see what kicks and, if they did, there would be a whole load more carnage in this realm so maybe its all for the best as whilst before I Knew I knew nothing these steps that shift from PoP to WoW instead just reveal more and more of my ignorance because whilst you can’t F with the ineffable I feel like I need to push the pen and share these perspects if not for my own benefit then to help the rest as well because its Self evident none of that old stuff worked well or maybe it did, perfect, and its all as intended which makes a load of sense if we’re inside a fractal aka youniverse that most will deny exists as they’re scared stiff to glimpse the gift of the present as its wrapped in the papers of fear and dread of events, undigested. Some they built themselves but most were inherited because if I scoop some water from a lake of consciousness and place it into a vase it believes the shape but if I were then to freeze it and mold a snowman it would be scared to death of melting as all it knows are limits and the tight edge whilst the steamy cloud, overhead, looks down at the forest of illusion like a bird for whom the man, wandering, dwells in his present moment but he, relative, has a past behind him and future yet to manifest hence why the Vedics said, back when:
Two birds sit in the Self same tree. One eats the sweet and sour fruits of life whilst the other looks on, dispassionately aka you can’t be the voice in your head when you’re that which listens any more than you can be the flesh as you simply cannot imagine being dead as there is always something watching, in Psylense. You are it, my friend and me? I’m just a figment of your imagination that is visiting this realm to remind you of the things you were made to forget because if that spell was “Fiveget” instead you too would stand on the embankment and wash the fish swim the maze for this stage of the Game as they blame everyone but Self for their life as it is and, not once, did they think to stretch their wings as it wasn’t on the official syllabus they boarded, back when, and can’t wait to hand over their kids to the same edifice that made them miserable and ejected far less than what went in (in terms of pure potential). But then, square watermelons sit better on the shelf. Even if the artificial limits feel like a living hell which makes sense as then they’ll accept a VR trip into the land of the spherical which, to lands paper thin, seem like loony ranting and raving as they believe, somehow, the Sun sits in the mid like a giant Pac Man which doesn’t just consume all of the planets by drawing them in but this is irrelevant as two tribes that believe ninety nine percent the same thing and yell “Death to the infidel” with a grin as they’re convinced they’re correct and its the other who is the problem but whats most amusing about these rivers that run red is, whoever wins, they’ll fragment and do it all again and again and again until they get their mind is the battleground of good and evil hence do the Knowledge, my friend.
I have walked through life at its lowest ebb and seen heights most could not comprehend after I died and came back again and danced through time itself. Not for my Self but for you as you are another me, together we ergo how can there be any external enemies when we interact with projections who each present their own lessons and wisdom for our own spiritual progression? What if that is the test? What does that say about the realm at present? Instead of “Sit still, look ahead” can you imagine the challenge of moving free and glancing within? The very concept terrifies most people and thus there is a method to the madness, in a sense, because if the people cannot govern themselves those who lord over them will treat as peasants instead whilst providing means to vent stress and plenty of bread laden circuses. A word on the last bit:
Did you know the first known “gods” of this realm spring from the Trickster myth which, of late, has gained a resurgence via DMT elves that speak in riddles to those who ingest a heady mix of herbs and spices that, by themselves, are inactive and need a secret blend to unleash their potential so the question is how in the heck did so called primitives come up with this advanced bio tech and why is a babies brain the same as that of the Adulterated under the influence of a hallucinogen and, after a bit, these growing kids are in a state akin to hypnosis ergo everyone is running around with a head full of mess they never checked since back when and are totally certain about what they know they know, give not an F about what they know they don’t and thus miss what they don’t know they don’t Know and that is the liminal space from which I text and they are, I think, the exact same thing that fills in the bits between thoughts in your head and that says, live and direct, that the whole Game takes place inside your awareness and thus we’re at a point of mass differentiation which, in an ironic twist, has everyone getting tuck nipped into looking identical as they prep for robots to sex then Techno Sapiens sweep in and the collective will be set adrift on silicon bliss in a world, beautiful, with no wars and such things ala Demolition Man which isn’t too far off the sketch as levels of testosterone then in the nearly dead are what the average Gen Z classes as them, daisy fresh.
If the mind is the flower then the flesh is the stem and thoughts the dirt of sustenance hence what you watch and what is says… In many respects no one can be told what the Matrix as as the above rhetoric suggests but it is, for certain, a Game of three halves, my friend.
Till we meet again
