From end to end, first to last then back again – Every facet of your reality was programmed.
Have you ever booted a system with no operation, available? Better yet, with no CMOS level tech as that is what says who sits where, when and talks in what sequence. These are the basics. The low res sketch is default and its handled by the reptilian. No, I’m not talking about Bowser and his clique but the R Complex inside your head. This is what makes you blink, sneeze and realize you are now breathing manually. Ain’t that something? Words are weapons and thoughts are things, my friend. We are in a constant state of hypnosis that is recreated from moment to moment like a real life Ship of Theseus. In that respect you are little more than a concept made flesh and that is how powerful whats inside your head is as its the internal OS that runs this bish and every facet of it was programmed. By whom? When? With what intent? There is a saying which says “Garbage out from garbage in” meaning if the code is incorrect it will work, perfect, and create what it says. Think of the bulimic who appears wafer thin but sees, reflected, an orca in the mirror. Something is obviously out of whack, yes? Taking this up to level ten its worth considering the MPD patient who is deathly allergic to strawberries and yet once the dial flips to decode another wavelength of consciousness she eats them with a grin and has no physical reaction or anaphylaxis. Things like this really should (or could) make you think about what truly kicks in this realm and implications of wearing flesh.
Every facet of your reality was programmed but the most amazing thing about the Game is a man can flip it any way he doth wish as it exists inside your consciousness. Granted, there are certain elements and parameters one must consider in order to keep it realistic as people think its akin to an 8 stone weakling winning Mr Olympia without lifting a thing. It isn’t. Metaphysical bodybuilding is what it is and thus it always starts simple so a way to get ripped, in the mental sense, is to maintain your awareness. Before you do this the pink dumbell bit is just learning how to watch your mind and realizing:
“Oh, heck! I’m not the voice in my head but something that watches in silence instead“.
That, alone, places you ten steps aheart of the rest and well on your way to forging that mothership connection with higher consciousness whilst living. Once you get familiar with this resonance realize that response-ability is free will then flex that muscle. Use it to challenge negative thoughts and I’d be willing to bet the you that steps is so totally different to the one, unchecked, who had that old OS in his head that you best take notes to keep the change fresh as the mind cannot imagine being anything beyond what it is. Read that back again, its the key to the whole lesson. You ever notice how that homonym spins lessen as well? That isn’t a coincidence for those who go in and see dense to comprehend its the same reason why you don’t spend seven rays in a strength and invest the two off in getting strengthened. There’s rules to this here, life has an unhidden manual.
Metaprogramming the biocomputer may seem like an archaic way of stating it but its so accurate as this silicon beast in our midst is something that, off rip, was designed to mimic and replace hence “Control, Alter and Delete” being the programmed they sent along with “In this sign, conquer” as well as the whole bitten apple thing where Siri (flip it) covets your iris. This is basic res, you should be well ahead of this by now but I sprinkle the seeds for those just tuning in and pushing my views to the millions as, all around the world, people are waking up to incontrovertible proof of the truth that we are inside a simulation based on a coherently collapsed creation of consciousness and this is Self evident when you consider the ridiculousness of how fine the tolerance is for there to even be a planet and whole solar system. Sprinkle onto this the optimal elemental mix to create all the flora and fauna you take for granted along with complex systems like blood clotting with its cascade effect that works so well and its akin to you siting in the nosebleed seats of a stadium, blindfolded, and throwing a dart with pixel precision to hit the one and only magic mushroom growing on the field. Times ten. That is how improbable all of this is and thats why all of the sciences strain in their separate directions and no one forms a coherent narrative of what they’re uncovering and fewer still link this in with the wisdom of the ancients which called it just this and had ancient facts and things we’ve only just confirmed or haven’t discovered yet. More to heaven and earth, my friend…
Every facet of your reality was programmed and the intent at the helm doesn’t appear to like those who contradict this as the Game has a shooting script with tech revealed, as and when. Tesla is the perfect example and how they parade that thief dressed in purple as the fount of wisdom when the current level of ignorance where they think smashing small atoms into lesser things will render a solution when, as they said in Kemet, “There is no end and no perfection in this realm” as they hearted for the exit with this as light as a feather on the scales after they built what they did to send a message to the ones who come next and, no, I’m not talking about the latter day move ins who rechipped the Sphinx and sold a load of BS but the true OGs of the Game who made it, their way. Did they leave? Did they stay? Did they simply elevate to a higher state and remain, on call, Twenty Four/Seven, should you say the right words to draw them in? Are they we? Are you me? Together we? What if the greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was not building a realm, counterfeit, but faking the funk, once again, to sell the head trip of Techno Sapiens? What then? What if we’re dead and this is Hell? You ever ponder this? Like what do they have there that humans haven’t already discovered and implemented? Thats the 8 billion Soul question, isn’t it?
There are things I’ve seen, places I’ve been and vistas, perceived, that would make most flip their lid. The fact that I’m still kicking is it testament that it all takes place inside my awareness ergo the question is “What is the meaning for me?” as I decode this reality and thus it does not encode me. That is the master key to be free, my friend. Mix in total detachment and the earlier stage of resonance which is a neutral acceptance of whatever happens and you’re well on your way to gaining enlightenment in the flesh which is one of the upsides of living in hell. I mean, consider this text where I said that people in the future will be beautiful pseudo immortals that engage in lots of sex and tell who the heck would think about seeking the exit then ponder on the fact that that is the worst it will get as each stage ups in res and delivers a stronger and stronger hit to the less and less that remain and it all just makes sense. Well, that and the future memories I’ve mentioned as well as the hint that man is a machine of desire creation ergo to turn off, tune out and drop in will be the next black hat hacker mindset. In many ways you could claim that schizos are the beta testers of a new OS as the fresh spin will be akin to a controlled hallucinogenic trip just as reality as it stands is nothing but consensual madness as we invest emotion in symbols then forget we built them to rep something else. Point this out and people yelp and miss all the heavenly splendor you’re trying to draw to their attent. I guess there are dangers to deprogramming and most are too hopelessly plugged in to even accept they aren’t the flesh or “John of House Smith” but actually pure consciousness.
This is why, I suspect, you need to spend a couple of decades, legally mandated, at your local camp of concentration as they switch out think for Thunk and most don’t spot the drop in res. And yet, if I could upgrade your mental software with a click you’d grin as the familiar newness did its thing and you’d swiftly recollect that something must’ve caused the glow to dim. Tell me this pic isn’t accurate, my friend:
Where does that glow go? I wondered since a jit and I had my first existential crises when I was not long out of Pampers and came to realize that my parents, miserable, were once children as well. Up until that realization did kick I thought everyone was just born like this and it was nothing special but to comprehend the shadows depth that I’d never seen them dance or sing, scribble with a crayon or play with an imaginary friend was so horrifying that I’ve been thinking about it since. That meant, as you may guess, that I rejected all programming and actively set about hacking the Matrix instead which lead to a brush with death as the Architect sent his Agents to do their thing but even this didn’t sway my attempts as I’d had two NDE before crawling so it appears you’re born with a mission etched in which makes perfect sense as life follows a script and we simply play the parts that are writ ergo this must be the job nobody wanted. Can you imagine the length and breadth of foolishness of wishing to tell humans they’ve been tricked and all are being pimped by a voice in their head that isn’t them? Not only this but virtually every single thing they accept about anything is, at best, a distortion or flat out fabrication. The oddest bit?
They don’t want to be happy, just correct. I mean, Who the heck wants to declare war on their (false) self? Well, by my estimation, 8% (aka the chosen who choose themselves) are capable of awakening the Warrior within in this realm which is an artful illusion wrapped in a deception that presents ignorance as wisdom and any other polarity flip you can imagine as long as you keep paying attention to what the what the man behind the curtain says in a tone you accept as Self hence not only is every facet of your reality programmed, my friend, you are, in effect, complicit in your own oppression if you chose the broad way of ignorance – paved and well lit – when the Path of Power doth present an opportunity to awaken in the flesh and see the lay of the land as it is and not what Simon Said, back when, and folks accept as gospel without stopping to check the small print. I say all of that to say this:
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
I do, sometimes, wonder what the point is in me pushing the pen and sending this fresh dataset to the digitization of man collective unconscious because the ones who Know the Ledge will get there without my help. The well adjusted masses with their heads artfully placed inside their rear ends will kick up a stink if I dare suggest the true cause of their back pain whilst the 11% that wove this spell and programmed every facet of their existence from here to death and back again must be grinning at my Quixotic quest, yes? Well, it keeps things interesting, eh? I’ve got to say though:
How can there be any secrets when its literally all in front of them? From the constant threes on the four to the scores on the door – nothing is hid. Thats on Blood, Crip! Repping that five, all the way live, or is it a six till the end type flex? Do they comprehend the shadows depth? Are they supposed to or is it just a numbers on a list thing for the forces at the helm? Who’s winning between blue and red then? Asking from the golden section… To everyone else, still reading:
It doesn’t matter if you stepped into the flesh, now, at present or in the future of silicon and carbon remixes as well as any other time you can imagine. Every facet of your reality will be programmed and this will be, on spec, as invisible as water to a fish unless you make the moves to transcend ergo that should drop the hint about being in and not of, yes? If an external clique can etch a script what is to say you can’t flip it or, better yet, comprehend that its written, starring and directed by thee, ultimately? This is metaprogamming, in full effect:
In the interim its all about stripping reality to its basics to find what remains constant – awake or in bed – from one life to the next… You are this. By definition, accepting any less or more is testament to ignorance but who peeps the tree, living, when they’re focused on the image slung across the taut flesh of the canvas? Get it? “Taught“.
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
Till we meet again
