“Reality” as it stands is a very clever and stealthily implemented construction that, to the well adjusted to such immense sickness, is as invisible as water to a fish that swims in a glass maze and Thunks its totally normal. That spell, alone, tells you everything you need to know about this realm. A step above them we have those that ponder, lightly or at depth, the true nature of the sketch and beyond that crew we have the few that either end up in mental asylums, totally convinced there are invisible forces all around tormenting them and playing with their perceptions or they become adepts of the Path you create by walking as they comprehend that this realm does not exist without their presence and thus all things are within their awareness. Thats about the sketch, as far as I can tell but, as always, you should accept nil and actively attempt to prove my thesis incorrect as I follow my own guidance and none can step in my shoes for we each have our own trek just as I reject theirs in all forms and resonance. How do you gain such gnosis? Simple:
Nothing is as it seems in this realm and all is a test once you comprehend the shadows depth hence why I’ve said its a Game of three halves, my friend. Its what you don’t know you don’t know (and thus, never even suspected) that exerts the most influence. The problem is your greatest strengths are wrapped in papers built of fear and dread but once it clicks they are too simply constructions one can start reversing the rites and getting to grips with the present moment aka the golden circle. This is why you see red and blue everywhere from politics to crips and bloods as well as boxing rings as they symbolize the shift that makes your weakness the strength of the predator of consciousness which manifests as that voice in your head that tells you how it is. You have, in effect, into a parallel existence in which you accept labels in lieu of sensations and this is why life doesn’t feel anywhere near as rich and vivid as it once did. This is also the reason why, if you’re lucky enough to nibble, the carrot on your head doesn’t ever quench the thirst you possess as the stick that whips your rear end keeps you running the treadmill from one life to the next.
Can you see why people would flip their lids in the attempt if they stepped into a higher dimension of consciousness and tried to navigate a place that is three dimensional using a Two D blueprint? Listen, if you’re happy and content in ignorance then more power, my friend. Enjoy it. As a jit I could not comprehend the validity of this mindset when the view of wishing to be like them was shared by one jaded by the trek but now I get it. The thing is that your mind is like a balloon and thus its present, unfulfilled state, is but a hint of what kicks once its filled with energetics. The schizo, in effect, finds his has a dirty kind of filthy liquid pouring in and that is then popped with pins as their awareness becomes more porous hence the visions. The mystic, on the flip, gains a belt of helium and ascends much like a snowman made of ice (steam at its lowest vibration, recollect?) as the sun of higher consciousness shines, melts it and as the drips go through the same process they gain a vapor mindset that recollects the familiar newness of such intense freedom. That, as you can guess, is petrifying to those who believe the script and proclaim, loudly, that they are John of house Smith who likes that and this but isn’t too keen on other things. All an illusion, my friend. Thats the greatest trick or cosmic wheeze, if you will.
Parallel realties are all around. Its not a one and done thing as they’re like a Matrix within a Matrix. Let me give you an example:
Money is worth nothing beyond what the people who spend it Thunk it is. I shared an example of a hustler who clocked a grip by buying on Dollar bills that had been washed and reprinted with a couple of extra zeros that made all the difference. Nothing from nothing leaves nothing but, in this case, they set the stage for some deeper thinking. Lets rewind:
“It has to be, bar none, the greatest hustle the world has never seen” said he who had moved smooth as silk to penthouse from pavement as we conversed in my office. “It really is. I mean, its a literal license to steal peoples life essence and the crazy thing is they’ll thank you for it. Kind of weird, isn’t it? And yet, I felt such an immense amount of power when it was in my grip as I had the dividends to make others do as I wished just by peeling off a stack and telling them to go handle it. They ran off, accomplished the task and got the numerical pat on the head, as promised. Its like you said about school being a concentration camp, par excellence. That really made me grin and if I had kids I’d certainly home school them as all I learned came from seeing the world how it is and not what they tell. Its bizarre, so bizarre. Anyway, how did you come to click the code of the Matrix as I remember before we met one of my friends regaled a tale you’d shared about there are billions of different worlds that exist only in our heads and we are, in effect, Jesus who is, daily, crucified in our dome between the hemispheres that manipulate our awareness. The guy didn’t get it and complained you’d blown his high and torn his mind to shreds when he came back with some skins but I was intrigued as, whilst I’m not religious, I can appreciate a good parable so from where did that thought kick?”.
I told him about my adventures with schizos and how, at some point, they all said they felt like the divine being tortured and when I put to them that I’m a figment of their imagination that, for them, represents sanity and something solid they all nodded their heads because, ten out of ten, never hallucinated shifts in my presence and that was most interesting because, to me, each of them repped various parts, damaged. “Its like your adventure with the priest that stole your innocence and, in effect, created a demon who was oddly righteous in certain things but downright wicked in others. We all have this schism within. A fight between god and the Devil, if you wish, in which one side says bad things with a grin and the other advises caution and reverence. He sat there, taking it in and didn’t say a thing for quite a bit.
“Interesting. I wouldn’t totally agree with that concept but, as I’ve aged, I’ve came to realize that, back when, a lot of what I did was motivated by revenge and a burning desire to get ahead. When I finally climbed that hill and was secure and confident I found that too was just an illusion as other parts of me were still broken. I had to keep the facade though because the pavement won’t relent if it senses a weakness but, in that respect, I was lucky as I never gave it the big un and, as far as the world could tell, my elder brother ran the whole operation… Oh heck, thats a parallel reality, isn’t it?“. He cracked a grin, shook his head and reached for his cigarette which he lit, took a hit and then mentioned:
“Thats pretty intriguing. So by studying the ways of madmen and comparing their views to the so called sane you concocted this viewpoint, yes?”. I nodded my head. “Hmm, so where did the pixels and such things fit into this? At what point did that click?”. I mentioned the start of Super Mario All Stars in which the entire clique is standing there, in darkness, happily talking, then the lights are hit and they take their positions playing various facets of the presentation. “To my mind it seemed like they were all actors. I mean, its a Game, for certain, but it did make me think how a regular man wound up bumping and grinding with a princess whilst a reptilian king was constantly kidnapping and lets not forget about the superhuman strength the shroom did beget and how they kept on assuming the position, again and again. There had to be a deeper meaning and it made me ponder, at length, at the symbolism they repped. Not to mention that the quantum leap that kicked from 8 to sixteen bit meant that they’d just keep on getting better and better then the proto net, back when, in which I could talk to someone else, instantly, across the planet and they could send a file, ones and zeros, that went from nothing to something. I just drew the links and let my imagination fill in the rest”. He’d been laughing through all of this and mentioned:
“Come to think of it, yes. I played that game as well but never, ever stopped to notice the first bit as I wanted to get into the action. I guess nothing is hid and it they place it in front it so obvious most will never click. Smart. So whats the end game then? How does one reclaim their Soul? Not that I believe in such things but lets class this as an experiment, yes?”.
I hadn’t yet, fleshed the concept out to such depths as I possess at the present and said something akin to:
“Well, Mario, made of pixels, must realize that his desires, actions and whims take place inside a creation with set rules and limits but beyond this plane, Two D, limited, there is a being of bone and flesh with his own consciousness that directs his actions and if he clicks he’s him and not the plumber with a princess who likes a bit of rough, now and then, he’s ten steps ahead of the rest, dig?”. He’d started laughing again and said:
“Thats something, it really is. Good luck with it. Anyway, I’ve got to go as I’ve got another meeting and just passed by to drop off a little something something I think may be of interest as it floated across my desk and felt like it was meant to be in your grip”. He shared a book by Philip K Dick called Clans of the Alphane Moon. This short script, from the Sixties, outlined a premise that went like this:
There was a planet, like Earth, in which the nutters were sent to live on the moon as the regular peeps had had enough of their ranting and raving. The crazies revolted, took over the asylum, and arranged themselves in a caste system where certain maladies handled specific aspects that played to their strengths whilst others did their own thing and, overall, it worked pretty well. Thing is the Earth wanted that space back and intended to take it from these loonies using any means it could think… The paranoid are heads of state as they’re so foreward thinking (not a spelling mistake) whilst the manics keep a weapon in grip and full clip, ready to rip, as the soldier section. The schizos push the pen and created their religious texts with a poetic lilt thanks to their extremely sensitive visions and the hebephrenics did the laboring and kept the cogs of the machine turning with tasks, menial. We have a few other classes as well like the Polys who are most creative, the OCD aspect handled the paperwork with a fastidious mindset that ensures everything is perfect and filed in triplicate then checked again to ensure its correct whilst the depressives sit alone in their own personal darkness and ruminate at depth about what truly kicks and how they got into this mess with a nearly endless string of recriminations in their heads.
This is what I meant, in another text, about feeling like the universe was conspiring to make me win as I’d read, voracious, but never been a fan of science fic as I liked things to be more grounded and practical as I rarely checked the non factuals as my quest, back then, was for the purest product and datasets one could get. Little did I click how much of an impression the writings and life of this man would have on my awareness as, in PKD, I felt a kindred spirit who had, back when, glimpsed the code of the Matrix and wondered if he was losing his mind or actually seeing future memories. Time proved that correct as many of his works became major motion pics that highlight, really well, the world that is coming when carbon and silicon mix to beget Techno Sapiens. Art is a lie that tells the truth, my friend, as that is the only way people so well adjusted to immense social sickness can accept the genuine as to comprehend their entire world is a fiction – like the money, mentioned – is akin to ripping the VR specs from their head and bringing them face to faceless with a grim reality that will have them shrieking in fear at the implications… Such is the plight of the schizo and many mystics as well because when you get to the top of the hill and have walked over the thorns that become rose petals instead and meet the goddess you look down at the Valley of the Plebs and wonder what the hell kicks. Many men choose to stay on the peak as the descent, to them, makes no sense as A) the others haven’t walked the Path and B) they’re set adrift on the bliss of higher consciousness and have no wish to taint it with a visit to the trenches as madness is contagious but darkness wishes to extinguish the light of candle in its midst as it threatens the folks who sell electric bills to the rest… I mean, haven’t you ever wondered who keeps sending the prophets the other side kills dead and why that spell is a homonym for the intended end result of the endeavors of all pimps, preachers and politicians plus those in their grip who hand their power over to them in exchange for a script and empty promises that never delivered on what they said as the aim is to keep the bread, circusing, and force feeding the skits to the gluten and dairy intolerant who do not click it was the DMT elves that got them into this mess called “Being Human”?
Its why I’ve said there are dangers to deprogramming but some of us still hear the drum beat of Inner Sense we marched to, back when, and will do anything to keep its funky rhythms and groove they beget as you shake and twist your awareness in ways mysterious to peer around the corners of the vortex and map it until you click the black cube in the midst of reality that everyone, directly or in, worships. What is it? Well, you’re using a facet of it to read this text. Mind blowing, isn’t it? Thats parallel realities, in full effect and PKDs work was filled with riffs on this theme as he suspected we have a demented intelligence at the helm of this realm that gains a perverse pleasure from suffering and cheap tricks and only those labelled as mentally unwell actually have a chance of transcending the algorithm as the deception is all encompassing. Thing Total Recall in which his friends tell him not to go to Mars, his wife is an agent designed to keep him in check and his true girl, genuine life and the rest are all on the red planet which had been calling to his awareness.
The book is called “We can remember it for you, wholesale” and we have a man working a job, menial, who is constantly dreaming of a girl, brunette, on Mars and a life, quite different. There is a biz that sells the idea and memories, implanted, of having gone on vacation instead of actually taking the trip and thus he decides to invest. Everyone in his circle is against this. When he drops in, and before the mind remix, he somehow gains anamnesis of his real life as a highly trained secret agent that, somehow, is now working construction on another planet. Cue mucho hi jinx as he thinks the memories are fake and his brain has been flipped, sautéed then garnished, par excellence by those who sell head trips. Nothing could be further from the truth and thus he sets off on a quest filled with more ins and outs than a porno flick.
One of the most fascinating things about this text was how much of what he said and did matched the testament of the schizos around the ends as they, often, commented that unseen forces were reading their minds and tampering with their awareness. None of them thought they were secret agents but they often mentioned dreams that felt hyper real and had them questioning if the current life was actually an illusion and the other them was the real thing. As you can probably guess this begets lots of confusion and thus they’d come rushing to my drop in and feel reassurance, immense, when I was still sporting the same face on my head, identical vocal tones and wavelength plus they could spill their insights with no fear of increased doses and pills. In such an occasion I discovered something quite miraculous as a dude was flitting in and out of psychosis and, previously, I’d had tremendous success in generating temporary sanity with an immense influx of B Vitamins. I put it to the test again and whipped up a drink that I handed and he, without question, chugged it and continued with his retelling. It was absolutely amazing watch him shift to total lucidity as the narratives tint did shift and then, after about twenty six minutes, he was back to raving. I gave him another hit and, boom, he was cogent. I asked him to recount what he’d just said a moment before the sip and how it felt in comparison to now. To him there was no stitch moment, no shift. It was pure liquid consciousness taking the shape of whatever it was poured in, without question.
“Say, whats in this? It tastes real swell and I quite like it”. I handed him the box of powder that contained a condensed B Vitamin complex of which one was supposed to take a mg scoop and told him I’d been shoveling it in in tablespoons instead. I also gave him a pad and pen and asked him to log what kicked as he worked his way through it to see if he could spot the shifts as they kicked as the movement may be subtle so I requested he imperiment and sip quick sometimes and hold off until the point of breaking at others and jot down his observations. This he did and when he left I started looking more into the inflammation side of madness and how orthomolecular medicine could really help way more than psychotic pills as, to me, it felt like his mind was baking a cake that needed sugar but that wasn’t in his mental kitchen so it, instead, grabbed salt as it ticked the “Supposed To” boxes as being white, granulated and nearby located. As you can guess what it whipped up and force fed him tasted disgusting but seeing as we eat consciousness on the reg and are our own chefs what can you do but lump it?
If you’ve never read the works of PKD I’d highly, highly recommend them and if you can make it through his Exegesis without your mind melting you’re doing pretty well as I’d be willing to bet you’ve already contemplated a few of things he said about life from his lens as, to me, he was a modern prophet slash ancient mystic that was fueled by immense hits of amphetamine and had his own peak experiences that ranged from being possessed by a spirit that improved his life, cleaned up his act, bought in more dividends and inspired massive leaps in insight to being shot in the head with a laser beam from a fish as well as the belief that the Roman empire never ended and this entire construction is an immense decep akin to a hologram of consciousness that means everyone is a hallucinating but the only difference between a depot injection in the rear end and becoming the man in the high castle is how much you do or do not question the narrative…
There we have a glimpse into fake dollar bills, parallel realities and the works of Philip K Dick and, in reality, I haven’t even started yet as this is but a teardrop being used as a telescope thing and thus I’d like to take a moment to extend my thanks to all that made this possible, on both sides of the fence, as, for me, the truth of this realm is Self evident hence an immense Game we play using our Souls as credits to which the nursery rhyme said, back when, does hint about the genuine nature of this Matrix and how to play to win:
“Row, row, row your boat (made of flesh)
Gently down the stream (of consciousness)
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
(for fear is false evidence appearing real)
Life is but a dream
(within a dream)”.
See? Its not whats said out loud with bold print but whats left in the silence for those who Know the Ledge to comprehend as its the spaces of darkness that interest he who dares awaken the Warrior within. I mean, haven’t you ever wondered why every single language in this realm hates the hand most don’t push the pen with and yet they rep a disproportionate amount of power mongers, celebs and presidents? I do hence why I’m ambidextrous and if you haven’t yet spoke to the child within thats a great place to get started as the ultimate parallel reality is that of Inner Sense and Adulteration aka the script you accepted, back when, and the life unlived that is stashed beneath your neck and manifests as all types of pains and things that, oddly, seem to shift from one place to the next and can only be dampened (not cured) with pills which is nigh on identical to the world of the schizo except these ills formed a bridge, revolted and wreaked havoc on his consciousness and when he tells what kicks they medicate him against his will and thus further prove that, yes, there are forces, invisible, that manifest through agents that are out to get him and nothing is what it seems in this realm.
As a parting shot, read this article and note how easily the brain is tricked then ponder why schizos do not fall for optical illusions. And, yes, those red dots are the same size so who you gonna believe – me or your lying eyes?
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
Till we meet again
