I mentioned, elsewhen, how I asked a school friend what would kick I’ve scooped the internals (and all that makes them, them) of their best friend and placed it in the shell of one he detested. To say I could palpably watch the gears jam would be an understatement as he commented on my weirdness then ran off to play. I thought about this for ages, before and since, as what I asked was but a hint of the true depth which can be summed in the eleven words coming next:
Is it getting solipsistic in here? Or is it just me?
Haven’t you ever noticed the oddly specific weirdness of life itself? From the huge range of parameters that needed to align, just so, in order for there to be any of this and a whole host of other miracles (like how blood coagulation works and other cascade systems with such fine tolerance) as well as the total ridiculousness of Nintendo having a Bowser to protect them as another of the same name tried to hack them. Lets just roll it back, for a second:
It is, as you’ve guessed, a pretty rare name which spells “Good company” or “Fair Sir” from Old French. The latter could be ironic in the same way we’d call an alcoholic a gent and such things. In the States estimates range that out of a hundred K folks you’ll meet five with links to that darned Princess kidnapping reptilian. Doesn’t that seem a bit odd though? Like how one of the ilk decided to head in the direction of the corporate behemoth who leaves luck to heaven and thumbs its nose at its competition whilst doing what it wishes with great success. Not only this but he becomes president and, on his watch, no less, his foe tries to storm the gates and, in an odd twist of fate, he got to yell “So long, G Bowser!” as they buried him under the bing and gave him fines running off into the distance like Mario with a cape on him.
Didn’t anyone else find this strange? I did. Almost like the sim was nudge nudge winking to those who were paying attention as the odds of this happening are so slim that when you heap it on top of the Goldilocks dataset that created life on this planet it certainly seems to be a fix or, as was stated, its a put up job. Who would do such a thing? And yet, someone did and I was around to Witness it which makes it even more perplexing.
The most dangerous spell in the Devilish tongue is “coincidence”. Its like embers of higher consciousness starting to spark in the shadows depth at which point the (false) self urinates from a great distance and prevents the uprise of what it suppressed. Graphic, but accurate, yes? The Warriors lex, on the flip, subs this with the alternative of “Go in, see dense” hence the above mindset as I stepped into the Game doing such things. This isn’t new or strange as history is littered with such events that most brush off using the spell, mentioned. Lets check in one Edmund Berry Godfrey and his adventure in the flesh that makes one suspect there are more than a few men behind the curtain of this immense stage production:
EBG was reputed to be an round good bean and decent fellow as well who was knighted for his service before being goodnighted in strange circumstance. He had an interesting life and often mixed with people that were classed as beneath him as well as various schemes and things that often required others of leans means to get their hands wet with what flows in the veins of those they want offed, quick. I’m sure you can start to envision the picture being built, yes? One of these plots, Popish, was said, historically, to be quite a fake old grift that didn’t exist, never happened and is not worthy of any interest. Curious, eh? Anyway, the plan to pop a king came to Godfreys attention as the took depositions and he, being a concerned citizen, told everyone what kicks along with a cryptic “Expect me to be bumped on the head by some ruffians” type comment that will make more sense as we progress. This phrase was used to mean assassination but, oddly, he did almost nothing to protect himself and, instead, went full tilt in this direction instead. On Twelfth October, Sixteen Seventy Eight, he returned not and was found dead, about faced, on a place called Primrose Hill. Here is where it gets interesting:
Two committees attempted to make sense of what kicked and both were met with intense obfuscation that made the testimony seem real sketch. No evidence of struggle, no robbery or such things but the man had been strangled with his neck broken and then, for extra measure, his own sword was stuck in. Oates, of “Lets kill the king and make this place a republic” fame suggested it was the Catholics who did this. After much humming and hawing in court proceedings they proceeded to whip, in the literal and metaphorical sense, three criminals they said done did it. Their names?
Robert Green.
Henry Berry.
Lawrence Hill.
Who did they kill again? Oh yes, Edmund Berry Godfrey on Primrose Hill which, as you expect, is the same color as one said. Run that back again, consider the plot that didn’t happen and these real world events, linked in, as well as the rest of the mess that has puzzled people for ages and tell me:
Is it getting solipsistic in here? Or is it just me?
I’ve often said there is but one Soul in the Game and all we deal with a projected aspects of Self that say and do things unto us in order to get us to see this and thus gain emancipation from its grip hence the “Embrace the pain” doctrine that runs counter to not only your programming but will of the flesh as well. Getting back to EBG, his own folks said he’d offed himself which makes as much sense as that spook found dead in a suitcase or Dr David Kelly slitting his wrists using a hand with no strength due to damaged tendons. More to heaven and earth than dreamt of in heads not wearing turbans of tin, foiling, yes? See why I said its a bit of a weird place to manifest as there is so much of this strangeness around that most don’t question it. I personally, have seen scenes from my subconscious played out on the pavement and, let me tell thee, its mad unsettling but, thankfully, I’d been thinking of such things since a jit, as mentioned. What is the deeper meaning? Am I dancing for the blind whilst singing to the deaf? Lets break it down a little bit:
I am thee, thee are me and we are both made of the same thing which is Prime consciousness. It extends into the flesh and each incarnation gets what I term “Inner Sense”. This, as the word suggests, is pure, uncut and direct. Life attempts to break and fragment this connection and we become Adulterated instead and, I suspect, this is what leads to the breakdown of psychotics who think they hear others mentioning thoughts from their private realms when, in the end, the other simply doesn’t have a clue why they mentioned such a thing at that particular moment as it wasn’t explicitly sent with this intent. When the so called schizo gets this and reevaluates the lay of the land as said they identify more with the context than content and thats how Shamans are built, my friend. In that respect they have breakthroughs and these, often, change everything and now, with the web, we are constantly tapped in to the collective unconscious hence why it appears your phone is reading your head. I know, pretty crazy isn’t it? What if I said the Earth was actually this dimensions loony bin for those who kept messing up the vibe on other planets but the inmates, long ago, took over the asylum and set themselves up as gods amongst men and are hell bent on keeping you plugged in to the delusion they sell hence nearly two decades of legally mandated “Sit still, look ahead!” that was poured in, back when.
Not so for me. The best thing I learned in school was how to balance a chair on two legs via the use of focused intent and micro movements that seemed to marshal a subtle energetics that rushed up my back then pooled at my eye sockets which I could direct at the teacher to drop his chalk or someone to look at me when I said, in silence, to do just this. Imagine my surprise when a few decades hence I came upon this:
In this flick Ron is a portrayed as a homosexual psychotic which is an interesting overlap when it comes to the Venn Diagram of consciousness as the former are reputed to be blessed with a “gaydar” that allows them to detect one of them in the mix with no external clues or tells and the latter often state things about their shrinks life, in private, like they could access their inner realms. Why do I mention this? No particular reason, I guess, just meandering down the Path where most never even think to tread because, like EBG, he was reputed to mix with those from another station which but this time the upward link was to those in parliament which ties in, again, with hidden hands, fingerprints and the old favorite tactic of firing a pistol from anothers grip in order to obscure provenance of what truly kicked… Let he who hath the vision comprehend the Emperor was never dressed. What if the world, as it is, is ran by a psychotic set of gangster twins who are constantly fighting among themselves and these manifest, at present, as the hemispheres of your head where, as Golgotha hints, your Christ consciousness is being crucified on the hill as they whip the skin off each other which, in the end, is all you – not them.
Truth is stranger than fiction, my friend and life isn’t without a sense of the ironic but if I am but another you speaking via the black mirror in your grip what is the deeper meaning and subtext of all of this? Could it be a kind of magic? I’m wondering. Don’t you? Even a little bit? Thankfully I’ve met and conversed with quite a lot of people that are capable of pondering without limits and whilst not all (or even many) agreed with my findings we did have a good think about this because, as I said:
“Where does your consciousness end and mine begin? Take him, for example” I said, pointing at a man in the distance. “You hate him, think he’s arrogant and full of himself. I say he’s got a sharp wit and isn’t scared to let rip and thus is quite entertaining and you’re indifferent” mentioned when gesturing at the third of our triumvirate. “How in the F is that possible if he’s just one man, in the end? Doesn’t that kind of prove what I said about us being in a sim and there is only ever one Soul present that interacts with figments of his imagination?”. He looked, to the right and left, then said:
“You truly are off your head. I don’t know if thats a diss or compliment because of what you said, back when, but its always interesting. I don’t know. I’ve never thought of it”. I responded:
“Do I like the cut of his jib as I place an emphasis on wit, acerbic, whereas you tend to skirt around a bit and mind peoples feelings instead of being totally direct? Does that mean we resonate with what projects or do we detest whats identical as that is also an option?”.
“What about him then? What do you think?” he said, gesturing at the one who had been quietly observing. That was actually his strength and, in many ways, he was the Yin to the loudmouths Yang and thus what came next was no great surprise:
“I can take him or leave him but the world is more interesting with him in it because if everyone was like me then nobody would do a thing”.
That was interesting as, before we met, a lot had classed him as quiet and in his shell and it was only a random quip that unleashed a torrent of observation that led him to pitching in as folks were surprised as, previously, they’d said you never hear a peep out of him.
Is it getting solipsistic in here? Or is it just me? What about them? Are we truly dealing with figments of each others imagination and is the intent at the helm that built this realm benevolent or as wicked as it gets? Why is it only the schizos that get they aren’t that voice in their head but are then punished for going against the program whilst the mystic who takes a foot pilgrimage to the same place (as opposed to a jet powered trip on the wings of lids, flipped) ends up swimming where they sink but says the same things, yet more eloquent.
“Look at it like this” I said, raising my drink. “We cannot ever be truly sure of anything but the contents of our own head. I mean, right now I could be sitting alone and hallucinating your presence and if no one came over to ask me to what I was talking I’d be quite certain yous twos were present, correct? What if everyone, as a collective, hallucinated one man that wasn’t genuine but they all acted like this? If, into that realm, a child steps who sees through the illusion and questions the narrative would they snap to attention or medicate him to be like them?”. The talker let out a sigh that whistled past his lips as the observer stayed quiet and did what he does best.
“Boyo, what the F goes on in that head is between you and Lord himself” said the elder statesmen who, as you may have guessed, was quite religious and was drawn into our extended tête-à-tête when he heard me mention that Jesus was a metaphor for consciousness and something within said “Wait a minute. Stop and listen to this”. So he did.
“No, that does really make good sense” said the quietest as he was a staunch atheist who had trouble reconciling this with a world, beautiful, as he was deeply aesthetic as well and thus often noticed what others miss. He would later recollect that the numb get high to feel whereas the highly sensitive do it to detect less as there is an immense overwhelm of what the world presents to their senses. All of his life he’d been written off as a dim autist that dwelled on the fringe (before said things were fashionable to add in to your bio on the web) when, in reality, he was closer to the mid than most of them but the din was deafening and thus he tended to say less as he sifted the chaos in his head to find the beauty in the madness. “Just stop and think. Imagine I didn’t exist but all of you thought I did. How could you tell? Better yet, how could I tell? Thats where it gets mindbending, yes? If enough people, over the ages, send their attention toward a Jesus bucket that means it will, eventually, become an ocean of awareness so its irrelevant if he lives or didn’t as people are believing”. The elder gent sucked his breath in and got a tad defensive at hearing such sacrilege but then realized he was among friends where talking without limits was the only card needed to access as conversations without filters are what made things so fascinating.
“OK, first all of, Jesus was and is real. I can tell that by my feels and don’t need a holy text to back my perspect. Second, I will admit what you’ve said is fascinating because if a tree falls without a Witness then did it really happen or is it merely an unactualized potential”.
“Like nut busting to a porn flick in which two people are being paid to pretend to have sex whilst you pour actual, factual energetics into their performance and thus, in a sense, validate the deception”.
“What the F does that have to do with our Lord and Savior and all he did?” said the Christian, freely enraged, this instant. This really made me grin which, in turn, further annoyed him but I got it was a valid point as the black mirror point attests.
“Well, think of it like this. A whole lot went in to create that performance, yes? There are loads of people we don’t see how are vital to what kicks but are nearly invisible? The two, three or four, upon who the attention is fixed are aiming to create a replication of the genuine but amping it up as well as they’re all obviously faking“.
“Makes you wonder why movies come on “reels”“, I interjected. He nodded:
“Yes, yes, exactly this as that is what got me thinking because I find it nigh on impossible to make a connection to anyone else but the other day when we were talking a woman came in and you started conversing and I found I could commune with her via your presence, without effort or blemish, but when you left the conversation ended and I felt powerless. And yet I had so many things to say which were left unexpressed till out came the VHS that mimicked what I wanted but felt overwhelmed by as well. In that respect” he said, turning to the third member of the conversation. “I guess I miss what you have with your wife and Jesus as well as I’m alone, drifting in my head and thus am grateful for one who steps into my wavelength and forms a bridge to other realms that I, personally, cannot imagine”.
“I don’t know whether to hug you or slap you for linking my wife, our faith and a pornographic film into one sentence” he said, looking perplexed. “In comparison” he said, pointing at me. “Your head makes more sense than whatever the hell passes for a mind in his but, then, I also feel empathetic as I simply cannot imagine living like this as I have my family, congregation and loads of friends as well”.
“Can you see the bitterness and why I believe god doesn’t exist yet, all around, I see the hallmarks of intelligence as life is simply too complex to be an accident which leads me to wondering if its me thats the problem or the world who sees none of this and yet are perfectly content to pledge in ignorance as “Everyone is doing it“”.
“Don’t you see how insulting what you just said is?” I asked him. He shook his head and meant it. “Well, basically, you’ve called him a total simpleton that does whatever the rest say and hasn’t an original thought in his head that wasn’t programmed in”. “Bloody well said” chimed the man of gospel. “The thing is, I’d agree with this but the very fact he’s here having this conversation means he’s capable of doing the Knowledge and checking the Path most don’t dare tread ergo he’s a step above them and more than capable of gnosis. On the flip I think you sense the data pouring in and feel it overwhelms thus you attempt to spread as few ripples upon the pool of consciousness whilst his waves are in sync with what a lot accept as “The way it is” and this brings resonance and comfort whilst I look at the medium and message encoded as something that can be surfed, swam or watched from the distance, up a hill, and thats what makes it all fascinating. I mean, taking it back to Friday when Jill walked in:
She’s a bit of nutjob that takes one too many pills but is interested in Knowing the Ledge as she gets twisted to feel less in a quest for obliteration. This is, what I suspect, formed the resonance which allowed you to chip in instead of standing there, quiet kept, but when I left that translator who could speak to both whilst being different was missing, ergo no connection was forthcoming. Why don’t you go clubbing with her sometime or just speak, at depth, after a trip as she often does her friends head in with the type of rumination that we kick ergo you may, in an odd way, just be totally perfect”.
“I don’t think that could happen” he said, and meant it. “I’m too used to being alone. Heck, who dissects the finer points of a porno flick whilst having an existential crisis about the implications of what I’m partaking in and its deeper meaning?”.
“Aye, you’re a strange one lad” said the older gent. “We all enjoy a bit of skin, now and then, but I don’t think I’ve ever thought at that type of depth or even given an F beyond relieving some tension when the wife wasn’t in the mood for some action. How in the F did we get onto this topic again? Oh, heck, that loudmouth prick is coming in this direction. I’ll take that as a cue to bid you two gents a good evening” and off he went as the razzle dazzler did what he does best as the center of attention he directed over to where we sat before sliding, without effort, into the conversation by saying:
“That Jills off her head. We went clubbing, popped some pills and she took more than advantage of my sniff and just when I thought I was in and it was time for sexing she started doing my head in talking about all of this random mess about how the world is so intense and stuff about the fabric of consciousness whilst I was standing there, stiff as a table leg, and trying to get her into bed but she was having none of it. You’ve got some messed up friends” he said, shaking his head, then grinning:
“Cracking pair of tits though. Next time just give me a nod so I know they’re mental but, then again, talking to you they must be a bit “special”, eh?” he said, ribbing the autist, as he lived what he wished whilst detesting the outcome which was just what the other wanted but dreaded to take the steps required to make it happen.
See what I mean about this odd synchrony that manifests as such things? Can we truly be sure of anything beyond our own consciousness as we interact with figments of our imagination due to our fractured awareness which seems to be a hallmark of this level? Or, in more simplistic terms:
Is it getting solipsistic in here? Or is it just me?
Till we meet again
