You ever wondered what makes someone flip their lid? Better yet, can you imagine how it would feel if it, to you, were happening? One of the reasons why I attest that I am the luckiest man is this realm is due to the fact that a lot of these so called outsane trust me more than they do their hallucinations. What do I mean by this? Imagine you lived in a world where not just thoughts and perceptions could shift but also external aspects as well. You may look at someone and the next moment you glance they are wearing the face of a relative and you carry on addressing the counterfeit with a rage at their fakeness. I guess this is why society medicates and isolates them, yes? Wrong. But that is something we’ll uncover as we progress. Getting back to the inmates of the asylum:
“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking for you for ages” said the man under a heavy dose of psychotropics before launching into a mid sentence conversation which begins:
“So I told her “If you really are my brother then why is your face a girls?”. She, of course, denied this, with her curls shaking, and I thought “You must really think I’m stupid. There is no way I’m going to fall for this. So I called her a witch and left. Still, I’m really upset at my brother for trying to skip out on his visit and sending that imposter instead. The sheer disrespect”.
Before we get onto the obvious bit the reason why I mentioned they start off in the mid is because, in their realm, I already know whats in their head, what has happened and what they’re thinking as well. Why do they suspect this? Well, what would you do if, one day, you were walking along the street thinking about a childhood event and a couple walked by talking about a vintage show that was making a resurgence and one mentioned how the retro toy, back when, was their favorite and how they’re going to put in a bid to see if they can snap one up as a gift. Nothing big, yes? Except the memory you were recollecting was you, in front of the TV set, with said merchandise in your grip. What then? Brush it off? Call it a coincidence? Go home and Self reflect in order to make sense of what kicks or is a creeping sense of paranoia and the feeling your mind isn’t quite that private start to creep in?
What if it happens again? And again?
Lets pretend that back when you a friend you called best who had a mild speech impediment and always said “What are we doing thooday?”. Nothing major but it always made you grin as it was so endearing as it was his own little blip. Anyway, you are sitting on the bus after purchasing a ticket. Your mind is on other things and you notice but don’t pay much attention to the gaggle of teenage schoolkids who have just alighted and are busy roughhousing. Suddenly you recollect your friend and how you did pretty much the same and its at this point one of them yells “Ow! That hurths. Are you thoopid?”. Its like a hyperfocus zoom kicks in that shatters the rest of the scene to fragments and your attention totally zooms in on this one detail which then is juxtaposed and overlaid with your friend and things start getting real intense because, for you, time may be frozen and feel endless, outside its as invisible as water to a fish. The kids may or may not notice the ultra intense stare emanating from your direction and you probably don’t click his friends ribbing him about his false lisp that he than amplifies and accents for the attention as he starts uttering a phrase that was exceedingly similar to what always ejected from your friends lip when you met:
“So, what are we doing thooday?”.
The night is dark, the air is chill. You are home, alone, lying in bed. You can’t switch off. There are a billion and one voices in your head and they’re all saying things which aren’t really the best. No matter what you attempt you can’t rest and they will not relent. Its irritating because no matter how much you smoke, drink or pop a pill you always, always, always wake up at Two Forty Six with an immense shot of adrenaline and what feels like cold vapor snails leaves trails all over your inner realms. The sensation is mad unsettling as you can’t see a thing but you certainly get the sensations. Some of them move quick and seem to have a current. Others are more soft and delicate but you still sense them wrapped around your organs and radiant circuits in a way that never gets any easier to handle. Concurrent with this is an onslaught of voices that can either yell, scream or talk about things that make you feel uncomfortable, embarrassed or stressed. The only thing you’ve found that seems to help is sitting in the shower for ages. “For some unknown reason, just over fifty percent, it seems to silence them if I move with the right timing. I don’t know, maybe its the moons alignment, what I ate or something else?”.
In order to stay sane you start filling voluminous journals with your notes and observations as a) it provides a focus which generates a soothing effect and b) you are desperately trying to make sense of what happens as you know if you go to see the meds they’ll claim you’re off your head and fill you to the gills with pills as they size you for a padded cell as well if you dare resist what they said and state you’re not paranoid even though, in your head, they’re doing exactly what you expect to exacerbate the problem and this generates an immense feedback loop that swells into a full blown schizo event which, for them, proves they were correct and, for you, signals a descent into a living hell.
Really read these examples back again. Not just as mere text but take the bones of what I said and drape the flesh of your imagination over them and then step into the pic. Feelsee the tale, provide the detail and what you’d do next. That, my friend, is why schizos, schizo but there is another side of this lens which, for most people, is not worth considering as the implications are earth shaking. Ready?
Lets pretend that you had a dial of consciousness that went from playing the song of life in a background level and could rock up to nearly deafening that has the walls shaking as the beat is pumping. Better yet, lets say that the first one is akin to having a couple of drinks or a toke off a spliff. If you don’t partake you can imagine post coital bliss, the grin of one in meditation or something else you can pretend. The headbanging equivalent, however, is like being secretly dosed with a top class hallucinogen with some coke and heroin mixed in. Thats the difference between one who is outsane in the membrane and the other who is tripping. Did you notice what I did? Both of them are, in a sense, “schizophrenic” as the radio station is still broadcasting the same song but its what happens with the reception that makes the difference. Let me share another variable:
From the outside he looks identical to the rest but, internally, he not Knows about the dial of consciousness that can range from numb and distant to up close and personal but he’s discovered its actually linked to a whole EQ set and this, in turn, connects to a pair of turntables and mixer which allows him to shift his awareness up and down the Vertical Axis as well as time travel. At whim he can tune into the memories of his ancestors, listen to what his internal organs are saying about what he’s digesting or flash forward to coming events and change their manifestation. This is what the fully awakened Warrior brings to this realm and, in that respect, he swims where the madman drowns and its in these same seas we find a beach with lots of caves within which the 81% (who are well adjusted to this realm) are staring at television sets that show someone else frolicking on the sands.
Tell me, my friend, who is outsane in this example? You could say the mild hallucinogen provided by the tell lie vision set and contraption in the cave which provides a forced perspective is, in many ways, the worlds favorite trip but due its trick being as ubiquitous as it is accepted its nigh on invisible to the rest. If you ask them about the beach and the rest they’d regale tales of someone else who spoke on it, felt its sand, waves and shining radiance overhead like it actually happened to them. Worse still, if you try and point out the trick they’ll call you a conspiracy theorist as “Everyone knows the beach is real. I mean, just look at it” they say, pointing at their TV set. If you question why their posture is rigid, what encases their awareness and why so many people have the same “adventures” that seem mighty scripted they’ll tune out and drop back in to their regularly scheduled programming.
The schizo could too have, one day, been sitting in a cave with the rest and a huge wave did crest that smashed the contraption and drew him out to sea where he flaps, studiously, trying to make sense of what the hell kicks as its all so intense. See, the water is still water and the sand too is as they said on the tin but now instead of mere messages of vision they are live and direct sensations instead. Its kind of like you, now, bumping your head and seeing the background cosmic radiation swirling through everything. A previously invisible undercurrent that connects everywhen is now illuminating your field in a way that is as subtle as intense. You spot the strangest of links, syncs and resonance. When you attempt to mention what they said people think you’re off your meds so you decide to communicate with art instead. They rubbish your offerings, call them primitive garbage. You die, broke and broken. Much later on, however, you’re hailed as a genius with a keen vision which captures something quite ineffable to the common man that is so moving and rich. A long time after this science discovers the blip that what you painted matches the fundamental forces of creation, identical. That, my friend, was the life of one Vincent Van Gogh and I feel that illustrates, real well, a lot of what I said in a way the average man in the Cave can comprehend and even imagine.
How can I say these things? Well, as I mentioned, schizos trust me and I get them but I can also speak the common folks language and thus there is a skill of what we can call multidimensional translation in full effect. They aren’t crazy. You are. I mean, look at reality and tell me it isn’t the definition of insanity? And yet, you accept it? Why? Are you a glutton for punishment? You know your vote is worthless and doesn’t change a thing because only a bird brain would pick a left or right wing without questioning the edifice that sits in the mid, prints all the money thats fit to spend and then sells it at interest before demanding the plebs pay it back with real blood and flesh. Isn’t that bit nutty? What about keeping up with celebs jus because Simon Says? Bleaching your skin or taking tan injections? Rearranging your bits? Putting a chip in your head? The list is endless and I haven’t even mentioned killing others because they think their sky daddy is the best based on what was poured into their dome, back when. No disrespect but I’m simply visiting this realm and thus may be in but am certainly not of it.
That is why, I suspect, I got on well with the nutters round the way because one of the things with a hood environment is that there is a lot of undiagnosed mental patients who are shell shocked from living in immense degradation or may be born to parents with a multi generational traumatic inheritance. By the way, there are two things I’ve seen as exceedingly common with folks who flip their lids:
One, they had a tough childhood which was usually marked by an odd relationship with the mother who was either distant, smothering, narcissistic or an addict. The options are endless, really, but something internally is fractured and this reflects in the relationship with her kid. Two, they were always of above average intelligence. Often this was intense and this is why we became friends as I was super imaginative and really creative ergo people round the way knew where the jit with the insane ideas lived so it is what it is. I didn’t look at them as nutters or strange. Far from it. The pimp across the street had told me, back when, that he is simply doing on a smaller scale to his girls what the government does to the rest because:
“Everyone gets F’d, kid. Thats the way of the script. I’m just ahead of the curve because being the middleman is best which is why I stay almost invisible but totally indispensable when it comes to the business. Get it? “Comes to the business?” Ah, I swear, the jokes write themselves!”.
This guy was, as we said, tapped in the head as he’d often talk to himself. Out loud. In different accents. His girls adored him though as he handled everything for them. All they had to do was shake a tail feather when he said and the rent, bills, clothes etc he’d manifest and thus they were one big, happy dysfunctional household in which the various jagged edges of fractured awareness fit together pretty well in a heady mix of sex, drugs and indulgence which, on the reg, worked out for them. Probably not the kind of friend an average preteen would meet but life on the streets is how it is and the Souls that roam the pavement are most interesting and thus we hit it off as he enjoyed a philosophical musing with one on his wavelength and his psychological skills were intense as he could measure up a man (or woman) in an instant. We had some crazy conversations and yet his point of view was so lucid and correct that I could not deny it. Bear in mind, where I’m from nobody says no to hustling up some ends. Its not that folks wanted to be criminal but if Reg down the road hit a lick and came up on some merch that fell from the back of a wagon you’d best believe no one would turn their nose up at a gift with a hefty discount and no receipt.
Thing is, they may have a need but no cash on their hip. This is where the second part of his operation kicked as he’d lend, with interest. Thats how he could tell who was a good credit risk and worth the investment or simply too much hassle to deal with as he shook his head and said “Next” as he sat, sipping his drink. “Why not him?” I asked him. “Well, he didn’t smell right”. Most people would hit a “WTF?” but I went with it and asked what he meant. “Something was off. There was a stench on him. Its always correct, that first instinct. Don’t listen too long to what they said, go with your gut feeling. I know he’s borrowed before and paid back as well but this situation is different so its not happening”. Turned out he was correct as the kid was due to be sentenced and was trying to get all he could get for one last blowout on the bricks before heading to the bing. When news broke the pimp said:
“Told ya” with a grin. The usually rigid boundaries between the senses didn’t exist in him, hence the shifting accents which I found fascinating as I knew I was speaking to different versions of him which hinted at the fragmentation within. I too exhibit a similar flex and it may be for similar reasons which is why we got on so well. Or, it could be due to the lives I’ve lived, circles I’ve moved in and the international influence that comes from having spent your childhood hacking phoneboxes and PBXs to use the protointernet without paying a thing and speaking to all types of interesting kids from across the planet who were doing the same thing. Mine isn’t as obvious as his, I don’t think. As another dude said:
“You never know who may answer if you knock on him. Why do you hang around with him, kid?”.
“Because he’s interesting and makes me think” I replied and meant it. This other chap in question was also quite a character as well but his brand of mild psychosis was generated by the immense quantities of speed he ingested in order to give him a competitive edge on the pavement and thus, on occasion, he felt the schiz kick in as he sat with a blade in hand and curtains twitching, wondering who was out to get him.
None of these people knew about the dial of consciousness but all used some type of trick to shift its resonance. I, my Self, wasn’t totally aware of it until after my latest kiss of death at which point I needed to become real familiar with a lot, very quick, as things had gone a bit Pete Tong when it comes to the link between my awareness and flesh as the latter was nearly dead whilst the former was almost free and quite vivid. Dangerous combination, cons and chess… Speaking of which, there was a dude who was a total whizz at it as he was, literally, seeing many moves ahead. When I probed into his mindset he said it felt like watching fish in a pond in slow motion. “There are only so many ways they can be moving and if I zoom in and skim a pebble I can predict exactly where it will go next before its done a thing”. Isn’t that fascinating? I thought it was. Here is what was actually happening:
The black and white board reps the Three D land we’re currently in. Time is as invisible as water to the fish. The view of elevation is the Fifth Dimensional shift that also happens when dreaming. Basically, he was using a form of active imagination and intense resonance that came from within and was totally intuitive. It is how he had survived coming up in a home as a kid where his parents were addicts and thus quite unpredictable. What is a child to do in such a situation but let rip with some pretend as he tries to guess what comes next in order to avoid a come down ass whipping. Obviously this meant that as he progressed his temper was quite intense but once that board and pieces were present he was mellow and zen. I asked, back when, “Can’t you be like this without the props?”. He asked if could high without a spliff. I conceded his point, for the moment. Later I’d find you could actually hallucinate just by breathing which is pretty amazing as the next bit is the most important:
What if oxygen was a hallucination? What if the entire realm is sleepwalking in a state of hypnosis? What if we’re actually gods, amnesiac, who have forgotten our true strength and resonance thanks to faulty programming? What if the so called schizo is actually seeing the Game from another vantage that is actually accurate and its the outsane that are the problem as they’re obviously well adjusted to a world so sick? I have my perspective, some of which I’ve shared in articles, but most of it is a work in progress as I’m constantly upping my res but I suspect if it were not for the totally honest and super real interactions, back when, I’d be quite different as well. Who knows? Maybe not, as one said:
“It must be nice to walk between realms as opposed to being catapulted and ejected at random”.
He really had a point as he spoke on the Vertical Axis before I’d defined it and, in case you’re wondering, this is what the the chess player would ascend as it started out a coping mech to disconnect from the din of his parents, arguing, about who is going to go shoplifting to feed the kids whilst the other goes to score a fix. “No, I don’t trust you. You won’t come back with it. Last time you vanished and I’m not going to be sitting here clucking with these hungry baskets doing my head in whilst you’re who knows where the F getting wrecked off your tits. No. No way”.
The example that set it off in this missive is easily explained by the regular world alternative of “I don’t know what came over him? He was like a totally different person” as we may not an internal shift but the so called schizo supplies the extra res to see it literally written on their dish. In the case of his brother, who did come to visit, he’d actually been dressed down by his boss for his lack of performance and this is what manifested when he turned up at the asylum because no matter how much he tried to grin and appear affable within he felt feminized and violated by a boss he hated in a job, detested. His brother picked up on this because the interesting thing about schizophrenics is they don’t fall for illusions – optical or cognitive.
Puberty is generally a time of increased energetics as the matter doth shift and melt then start to condense as one moves from a stage to the next. This is why, back when, poltergeists and such things were common with a girl who had just started menstruation. Actually, there is a fascinating link between paranormal things and electric currents we’ll have to examine as all of this is interlinked as Van Gogh attests. On the bus what kicked is the schizos weakly linked filter between con and subconscious spotted a resonance between an event, person and recollection which bought the lisp to the brink of his awareness. The excited schoolboy picked up on this, due to said factors, and beamed it back not suspecting the concept wasn’t generated by him. As you can imagine this seems quite disconcerting and but this reality distortion field is a “hidden truth” of mental health as plenty of shrinks have sat down to peer inside a mental patients head only to have them comment on a personal event from their life to which they should have no access. Never a paper written on it though. Wonder why? Same reason why no so called “scientist” has ever stopped to think why every single mad man, regardless of demographic, intelligence or any variable you can mention always, always, always says the same thing:
“Something outside of my head is manipulating my awareness and things are not as they said”.
A bridge too far for a species in psychosis, I’m afraid and that is why I push the pen to share some Game at this stage because the world is insane, my friend, but not as much as you who accept its madness without question and then shirk examining within because all of the Souls I mentioned actually spent a lot of time ruminating and reflecting on not just their lives, minds and the realm but a whole load of things which is why we got on so well as I am, I guess, a natural philosopher in the flesh as this came with no sanctioned training – just pure Inner Sense, doing what it does best so my thanks to the pavement and those who grace it. Your lives were not in vain as I intend to change the Game due, in part, to our conversation.
By the way, Mr Two Forty Six needs explanation. See, around Three AM the veil between the realms is thin. This is well known in esoteric meditation and occult circles as they tend to time rituals and events with moon phases and such things as they click the outer is projected from within which links into the background cosmic radiation because Van Goghs eyes had less filters of perception. I mean, have you ever seen a garden through a bees eyes? Its like a discotheque with lights flashing and all types of stimulus. Even our own skies are purple but who are you gonna believe, me or your lying eyes? Do the Knowledge, my friend. Do the Knowledge. Due to the life he’d lived and various means of astral (read: subconscious) influence the man in question was susceptible to non corporeal intelligence which, once he clicked, the voices were real but external he felt an intense sense of relief and validation. I suspected the shower was due to the negative ions its brings as we lived near the sea and, when the weather was clement, he’d noted way less problems as he was always beach strolling so I suggested he invest in some tech to generate this around the clock, which he did. He also added in massive doses of B Vitamins due to an imperiment, switched out a few things he ate and is now generally quite happy and content as he nipped getting washed out of the cave in the bud and thus avoided the chemicals as the drugs most def don’t work but will certainly make you worse.
Just a few blips from the bricks. And he was one of the better adjusted as the rest gave not a single F about the System and actively rejected its programming which is an interesting testament to the shadow Self aka a Game of three halves, in full effect, which we shall have to examine and that, in a nutshell, is how to stay in sane because if that is a place then its the ones outside that need their heads checked, yes?
Till we meet again
