One of the things that really do intrigue is how the brain is an association machine. This is something thats really simple to test because if you think of a song you like the best, unbidden, a whole load of linked factors will pop into your head. In this text I shared a deeper dive into the syntax of said things and how this all happens super quick as its handled by the part of you that processes billions of bits (as opposed to the 8, give or take, the mind can handle best). Now, when this works well its all hooray and hip but, as most lives attest, their internal OS is a mess hence they can’t accept themselves. This is a major malfunction of an otherwise well honed machine that is designed to co-create reality. Imagine it like this:
You know that feeling when you get your new computer, putin, and its smooth as silk and everything is super quick? Notice how when you check back in, say, a year and change its a different thing. Now you see the timer spin, its knees are weak and arms are heavy. Sometimes it may even vomit a load of spaghetti and refuse to acquiesce until you start it all again or throw it in the bin and help contribute to landfills. I’m sure everyone can relate to this, yes? Part of it is planned obsolesce, the other is straight up ignorance. As I said in this text, I used to hack when it meant more than combining two preset items on a menu and thinking you did it big. That meant you had to know what kicked under the lid as we were nerds before nerding was the in thing. In that respect the modern OS is a walled garden in which the operator plays a Game of Simon Says and only allows you to play by the rules and cues he decides to accept. Many people are quite happy with this as they know no different but anyone who super tuned their rig for peak performance, back when, will attest that the cut of the modern jib sliced the quick to the skin and then took an extra chunk as well. Its something you’d really have to feel to believe as its akin to hitting the power switch and being ready to do what you did within seconds instead of minutes plus everything is really efficient and just says what it does on the tin.
Would you like your mind to operate like this?
Well, it is possible. Thing is the length and breadth of the sketch would stretch most brains to the point of a crack appearing in the walls of tension that holds it in and that, my friend, is both the problem and solution. Walk with me for a minute:
Do you think a Chinese brain works the same as one born and raised in the US? The answer is “Nyet” even those the basics are identical. The language they use, the cultural views and a whole host of things like genetic heritage and environmental variables all make an immense difference but the single biggest aspect is a belief in the ancestors. Every single melanated culture across the planet venerates those who came before. This has been the way since the days of yore but when the white man made his grand entrance and proclaimed it all savagery and devil worship it took on a centralized operation in which you could only venerate who they say, in a specific way, on a certain day. “Anyone who disagrees is an infidel and we must kill them dead!” is the chapter and verse from the official record. History attests to this, in case you think I’m lying. As I said in the passage linked the singular use of number and its difference is why there are no B-sians when it comes to math even though that stereotype still gets a laugh. Its true though, hence funnier still. Now, getting back on thread, paying homage to the dead is what became in West known as Halloween which is totally different from its original intent and core message.
Lets pretend you’re playing a Game in which you do the whole online thing and enjoy, graciously. You get killed and are waiting to respawn in the land of pixels and thus float as a ghost and take in the scene. During this ordeal in which you can no longer touch, feel or interact with your old team they forget to click you in. You are now angry as heck and thus may do all kinds of mischief with the little voltage you have left like tying their laces when they don’t perceive then sit there giggling “Teehee!” from behind your screen. Lets say an interesting thing happens via the laws of cause and effect as you make them sweat in the flesh and this is you get a swift bump in energy. Some people may say “To hell with reality, I’m on the spooks team!” as they link with other minds abandoned in tough times by those who no longer feel a sense of empathy to those who’ve been. That, my friend, is the reality of ghosts in the simulation and this is why they often “haunt” one place and engage in the same things, again and again and again or drain via sex whilst sleeping as the ballad of the drunken sailor doth attest.
To me this is as real as it can be and it makes perfect sense, lucidly, as I’ve had my fair share of encounters beyond the veil thanks to my NDE. Your mileage could, and indeed should, vary but let me sprinkle some food for thought in your intellectual granary:
Have you ever sat at home, alone, and felt, most certainly, there is something staring at thee? You look at the empty space, directly, and perceive there is nothing to be seen. You look back again and then shake your head and say “Must be my imagination” before getting back on with things. This is so common I don’t think anyone could dispute it. Anyone with a pet will also attest the times they bark at “nothing” or stare at the same thing as your cat tracks an invisible being though one wall, across the room and out the next. What do you think that is, my friend? Better yet, ever felt like you’ve walked into a spiders web then reached up to your grill and spotted naught there to touch? What of the random chill that hits different in a place otherwise temperate? Think of the floating playas, invisible, next time this happens and you may just unravel the threads of ignorance when it comes to wearing flesh and how we relate to the dead who, often, are ignorant that this happened.
All ancient cultures had immense rituals for the deceased in which the Spirit was guided to release its attachments to this realm and further they made offerings in their name to up their vibration to assist with their ascent. We, as modern men, think of this as primitive foolishness but that view is so incorrect as ignorance of this aspect causes many problems in this realm. Bruce Lee is a perfect example and what happened to his son attests, well, the power of curses upon the individual and lineage as well. “What does this have to do with the brain?” I hear you scream. Everything and nothing, apparently. See, its an associative machine and it tends to draw links between the strangest things. Like monsters under the bed that generate real reactions in your seed whose heart is thundering, uncontrollably, as you gaslight and say “Go back to sleep, its all in your head” so they lie there, petrified, as the ancestors are knocking… Not for nothing is most poltergeist activity at its peak when puberty doth kick as there is a massive explosion in energetics that often leads to the latch effect in which they become hosts for the ghosts of people, left. This is the same reason why you hear, frequently, “I know not what came over he!” or “She seemed totally different to me? Like she had a split personality”. Drugs and drink let them in hence the acting out of character thing. A whole load of junkies I interviewed, back when, attested to this logic in their mashed up state of awareness and felt an immense sense of validation as they thought it was a side effect of not getting a fix. I suggested some conversational ritual and a type of offering and, wouldn’t you know it, they went away happily. Some of them stopped getting high after this as an addicted ghost will manifest the same type of behaviors in the host its leeching. This really is an immense topic and this is simply the tip of an iceberg of ignorance that most would rather die than admit. Ironic as then they’ll have the proof of the pudding and wish:
“Ah man, if only I’d listened and made an offering then taught my kids the correct ritual on how to guide a Soul to relinquish its links. I could’ve been onto the next instead of pestering those who still wear flesh”.
There are other aspects that interfere as well. They can range from your previous incarnations, things happening in higher dimensions, parallel realms, group oaths and obligations as well as the history of the line you were born in for this spin and even this is mere fragments of this immense Game we play using our Souls as credits. Its why I urge, again and again, one should do the Knowledge. Even if its only to prove me incorrect. A simple example you can use at will is realizing negative thoughts are there to challenge so next time that voice in your head is wittering in its familiar dialect place a hand on your chest, take a few deep breaths and Center in Self then request:
Ignore the barrage of “Of course they are, you idiot, who else would it be inside your head?” etc etc and listen to the feelings instead. Soon you’ll up your res and discern at will which can bring the proof of the pudding and what I said. That then takes ones awareness to another level as you comprehend the Fourth Dimension is made of vinyl and no one really dies just like a track you did spin doesn’t vanish from the record as the diamond tip does its thing.
The woods would be silent if only the birds who sang best did just this as the rest zipped their lips and folded in as they looked from a distance with adulation saying:
“I wish I could sing like them!”.
This, my friend is the basis of celeb culture in a nutshell as well as the influencer trend of having zero talent or skills but wanting attention none the less.
On the flip we have those who are really quite gifted and for some reason either don’t share it or if they do it gets no hits and clicks as they barely promote it.
Then all of a sudden one of those who do it big comes across what they bring and has their mind blown so they start sharing it and overnight the previously unknown is in the stratosphere as well.
I have faith in you for you are another me together we so use the talent you’re born with to make some really real tangible progress as everyone starts out basic until it becomes a skill that has others marveling but to you now its totally natural and effortless.
Sure, take guidance and inspiration but never emulation as the aim is like the birds in the forest of illusion to find your own voice and let it ring as you sing out with confidence secure in the gnosis that there will never ever ever be another you in this realm.
Have you ever went and seen, on stage and in the flesh – not a reproduction via screen, an old school thaumaturge doing what he does best? For those unfamiliar with the term it refers to a purveyor of tricks, magical, which are, actually, illusions in fancy dress where a sleight of hand and such things make it seem like a miracle. The art is for him to keep you distracted and looking elsewhere for the action when, in reality, the traction is far more subtlety delicate.
That’s why nothing ever happens.
The eschaton’s been immanentizing since Moses dropped the needle on the record, bust out a backspin then said “How do you like them apples?” to the man who’d mastered the snake, mouse and monkey within. How many Souls have lived and died since then? Granted, there have been some arrows and slings along with various traumatic imprints that were designed, crafted and executed to perfection to steer the narrative, now transcended. By the way, you really have to hand it to old school White men as not only did they, sans melanin, build the pyramids and pretty much everything else of any worth in this realm (or so they said) but managed to do all of this in totally scorching climes which means they must have, first of all, invented some amazing sun protection which, if you stop and think, really says something because if one who dwells in this place is allergic to that which sustains all life across the face of the planet then what is writ large in letters so immense the rest never stopped to comprehend the sketch? Question the narrative and you’ll see it does not fit. You only see what you’re looking for, in the end. This is why nothing ever happens as its an attempted parlor trick:
Welcome to the concept I call red and blue shift. One reps history – note, “his” story – and the other the future yet to kick. The funny thing is that without you, in the flesh, the rest doesn’t exist. That, my friend, is the primacy of consciousness so whilst you’re waiting for Godot they’re making out like time bandits. Its the slickest trick one can ever imagine and billions served daily! If, by some miracle, you rediscovered, within yourself, the warm and nurturing embrace of this golden circle it would swiftly click that its actually a spiral that ascends as you bring creativity to this realm from some place else and, with relaxed concentration, furiously scribble to capture its essence with paper and ink. This is the familiar newness of Inner Sense, my friend. This is what they detest. Its what makes all things possible and the single greatest trick has to be the voice in your head that you accepted as Self when, in reality, its no such thing but a cheap duplicate as how the heck can you be that which talks when you’re obviously the one listening? Were you hearing me, Neo, or was the noiZ rabbiting:
“What the heck is he talking about with this blatant disrespect of a breakdancing prophet, some old school linguistics and the invention of sun protection, back when? Besides, everyone knows Beethoven was White”
Guess who’s Black! I’m just playing. Or maybe I’m saying that our entire history is a whitewash of epic proportions in order to justify what kicks at the present as he who controls that says what went, back when, and directs the future as well. Or attempts to. The true power of kings as its all an artful deception hence why one should awaken their internal curiosity:
Where is your power? In a sign, a symbol, a quote or reference? A financial record, or your D&D stats? Who are you, truly, beyond all of these tricks? That is the worlds best kept secret. Your true strength is so immense that its what actually creates this realm as, without it, there is nothing but potential. This is why they attempt such immense amounts of suppression and manipulation. Slaves accept this in ignorance, Warriors comprehend it is their awareness ergo they do something about it as one who is Centered in Self is not only immune from all deception but sees through the flimsy tricks and transcends them effortlessly with a cheery “Return to sender” as they actualize their highest potential for both themselves and the world as well. The greatest tool in the hands of the Opponent is the mind of his Victim which is why its worth doing the Knowledge then realizing your true strength is that you are an embodied aspect of the Prime, the pre-existing one and this generates a state of resurrection as your Inner Sense comes to the helm as the Adulterated voice in your head is seen for what it is. I mean, how can you be it, my friend, when you are obviously that which listens? How many Souls stop to comprehend that which when pointed out is super obvious? Thats the same principle of the stage magician and many are so invested in their act that its a lifetime performance for them in which they sell and tell a mask in order to attempt what they intent.
I Am… Me eternally flip it and you get M the thirteenth letter and only one in the alphabet you sound with closed lips ergo the vibe is internal eternal hence the Kingdom is within.
It takes so much stuff in higher realms to process ones consciousness so the resonance can fit and move at a clip that works in sync with the tech you’re wearing so people who take trips are not actually generating events due to what they ingest simply peeling layers to get a glimpse of what kicks within their own subconscious which if you stop and think is absolutely mind blowing as it hints what we think we Thunk we are isn’t and our true magnificence is something so subtle and wondrous that its ineffable in this most basic language and instead speaks as coherent patterns of light geometric symbols of resonance archetypal images and all of this is in the end a mere distraction that hides your Self in its truest element:
The Psylense.
A gift from the Prime the pre-existing one who makes all things possible who extends from someplace else and truly defines in but not of this realm as it is akin to the axis around which Yin and Yang do spin hence such a symbol hides the very secrets of reality from all but the initiated.
I Am… That eternally internally externally and anything else one can imagine plus more we don’t comprehend yet.
A coherent light pattern that shines with a different type of illumination as it sends no bill is totally abundant and I call it Inner Sense.
We all sport this gift upon our inception and induction to this realm and the wildest thing is it never left except you learned to write and never checked in again.
Truly the wheeze of eternity and that one can see instantly in a grain of sand on the beach which hints at the nature of fractality and how we’re within a coherently collapsed construction of consciousness that folds in flips twists and spins in an immense cosmic dance of generation operation and destruction or in its more common acronym:
Imagine you were asleep. The sheets were crisp and clean, the bed feels so supreme and you are getting some of the best rest you ever could have. Would you like to rise from this? No? What if you did and discovered what you thought was private and solid was actually constructed within a palanquin that was suspended on the shoulders of six. In effect you really were dead. And you thought you were just dozing. See why its easier to fool people than convince them they have been fooled? Add into this the fact that flesh and mind it builds via the senses is deceptive, edited and (worst of all) in cahoots with the illusion you’ll see its a time ripe for confusion and delusion. All because people are snoozing and think they see, perfectly.
Time stopped having any meaning. The illusion of this life was dropped like a welders mitt that was covered in pains of events I had no business clutching. And yet, like a drowning man with a brick, I was too busy working against my Self to realize I could loosen my grip and maybe swim my way out of this. Not only that but I was so caught up in my own narrative I didn’t realize there were some who actually came into the water to frolic and were actually quite enjoying it. Life never gave me any water wings or swimming lessons. No. They threw me in at the deep end, beaten, bruised and bleeding as they handed me a brick that knew the truth of the events I’d Witnessed but suppressed. As such I simply could not let go of it. Even when I saw the sharks swim and struggled against the elements I clutched to my suffering like it was the path to my salvation. Ironic because that is exactly what it is but the realization that strength comes not from holding but relinquishing was new to my paradigm.
In all things we must strive to be balanced. To reverse engineer the problem of living one must see beyond Yan and Ying to grok that golden Psylense in the mid that makes it all possible. Everything moves around it yet its perpetually still and unchanging. The noiZ which desecrates its existence with its own harmonics of din that bring their own distractions and problems badged as solutions is that with which most people are intimate. Its also why the idea of being totally isolated and deprived of all sensory input for an extended period whilst floating appeals only to a small subset. Of them only a fraction will put the effort to actualize this. Case in point:
There was a floatation tank place on my doorstep. I noticed it the day it first opened, even called in and spoke a bit but, oddly, never made an appointment nor went. At that point I was, IRL, totally unaware of the brick I was clutching as I was flailing because I was too busy creating the fabrication in my head that I was actually cool and elegant and none of this phased me. My mind says one thing but the dysregulation of my nervous system brings a different message. I literally had to die in order to see this trick for what it is because only a huge lie can uncover a greater deception. In that respect my frenemies truly delivered. Signed, sealed and almost executed. And yet, he is risen.
Throughout the ages, throughout the times and lives these various densities bring with their own form of corporeal manifestation I have been the same. I feel like a sculpture that has been chiseled from the excess of various lifetimes. I cried and wept at the stress which comes with the suffering as I wondered how those with the tools could be so barbaric and yet, what stands revealed is what its always been. Without the bells and whistles that were part of the deception to lock one in this realm.
I’ve always had issues with digestion. Always. So much so that I was the type that would rather throw his food away as a child, pretend to be fed and get back on with the business of playing. Nothing to do with the dish plated but everything to do with the fact that even back then there were facets of life I hadn’t digested. The glue of ten dimensions that holds us in thrall is pretty weak, in that respect, but then the hit of the opiates which kick from dairy and gluten allow us to feel a pleasurable numbness when the cascade kicks in. The interplay of the mix where information and actualization happens is breathtaking as well as granting because that is the most intimate exchange one can possess. Those who know about the light that comes with induced darkness once you flip the gas switch and sink your girls into the abyss only to bring them shining out the other end will no doubt get why the French word for orgasm means “little death”. There are huge hints strewn around through all of this and yet no one has taken the time to unweave this common thread from the various disparate narratives and see where it lead. Well, I did and what I’m speaking on is what followed by pulling it and seeing from what it was woven, where it attached and its true point of origin.
Have you ever seen those infinite pools? They’re like wet treadmills in the respect that the tech creates an approximation of motion when, in reality, you haven’t moved an inch. Pretty good parable for your life at this moment because many will say its the water they crave as they wax lyrical about this topic and all say the same thing in different tongues then argue about it. The mystic discerns the truth and how its all about the wavelength and thus he clicks that this infinity mimic is hiding the truth from his vision. He sets off in search of the ocean. Along the way he finds out the brick he was carrying contains all the instructions needed to end his suffering but by then he’s neck deep in the waters. Oh yes, did I mention that the difficulty level continues from one incarnation to the next? Meaning that you may have got to the stage previous that noted the pools trick, actually ventured to find an ocean, groked the nature of the brick and were just about to release it when you drowned. Next spin? The baby is literally thrown out with the bathwater and into the ocean, complete with a similar sized brick it inherited from parents doing laps in the pool and thus the child thinks “Not this mess again!” and starts crying.
Life is a cruel mistress in that respect and in many ways she is only happy when your pips are squeaking as that is the time you’ll truly look within and attempt to find solutions from the problem of living in the flesh on a planet that floats in the abyss as it chases a fireball through a vacuum. As the base totality of your reality thats pretty crazy, isn’t it? Then consider the madness you layer so high on top of this cake of ignorance before you dive in and only then realize you can’t swim. It used to be like this. I’m typing this from the beach instead and the intent is to share it to show there is another option than stepping on that watery treadmill. You want the motion, the freedom, the wavelength and resonance. In order to get this one must first be willing to see the trick of the pooled resources and programming of the collective. Only then can one, trunks in hand, reach the ocean and remember what they’ve never forgotten – just misremembered how to access.
All of the mystics, whether linked with a denomination and speaking their language or freelancers like my Self say the same thing, at the end. There are words about events and then there is primary sensation. Its why gnosis is so important as once you know, you know and there is no need for argument because we both have our own interpersonal imperience of the inner realm and thus conflict is greatly lessened. This is actually why the world is how it is because people are fighting to champion their particular wave like motion whilst missing the fact they are the intent which shifts these particles into coherence by simply glancing. Welcome to the power of the Witness, my friend, or (as the devout ordain) the word made flesh. And what is this spell? This magic rite we’re all seeking and falling over ourselves as we wield bad translations that mangle it presence from a position of ignorance? The Psylense. Can you hear it?
To try and speak of life in higher realms to people locked in to the five sensory depths is akin to a bee flying around the trading floor of a stock market. Sure, there are things happening and the data is voluminous but it lacks what it takes to comprehend or make sense of these events, even though its surrounded by them. In many respects life on this level is just like this because the layers of ignorance and conditioning are so rigid its akin to wearing a welders mitt for your entire existence and then attempting to intuit the feeling of sand running through your fingertips. You need to first realize the nature of the Adulterant, take steps to remove it and then prepare yourself to actually feel again as it can be a bit much to take in. I’m now quite certain that there is no difference between a mystic and schizophrenic beyond the fact that the latter drowns as the former swims. The rest, just like fish, are as oblivious to the water they drift within as the bee is to the stock market. It quite simply all is a matter of perception and what signal your consciousness is tuned into in this realm.
Taking it back to the top I’d be willing to bet you have felt, now and then, a nagging sense of emptiness or feeling that something about this life wasn’t quite correct, yes? That is your bodies wisdom attempting to get your attention. You could say this somatic intelligence is wiggling its fingers in the mitt to remind you of the vital principle that animates and is lessened by that which you gained after stepping in to this realm. It throws hints all the time, many run for pills instead to numb the signals as they can’t catch the Knowledge its kicking. In many respects we are Adulterated and thus strangers to Self. Sadder still because there is an imposter sitting there, ruling over the dome of your head, he takes it as a threat to his dominance and thus many will live and die without gnosis. Instead they’ll accept second hand, third person approximations. Thats the welders mitt effect. “Its not for me to feel the sand between my fingers, they were special so its on them” says the voice in your head because it knows its reign would swiftly end if you became multidimensional.
This place really is the pits. Its the dregs of it all. The last chance saloon. The bar at the end of the universe. Or maybe its just the solar systems penal colony or floating insane asylum. The thing is you’re in here with me and that should be worrying because my imperience is so at odds with the entire socially sanctioned welders mitt scriptures that one of us must be crazy. They say the definition of madness is doing the same whilst expecting different. In that respect the path which lead to this imperience of Self was nowhere near what I’d done previous and thus I’m living proof that we have options that are not written in any manual or framed as selections. Maybe thats part of the greatest trick? What if the welders mitt was actually like a mitten instead? So you who have four slinky digits along with one that works in opposition to grip currently think you have far less options due to never having delved beneath the surface of what fits like a second skin…
If you were being fooled and had an option to stay sipping the Kool Aid that was passed at these celebrations or be dragged, kicking and screaming, as the drink was dashed from your lips and thus ensuring your survival by preventing your engagement in something quite dangerous, what would you pick? When its laid out like this is quite obvious but what if that beverage you were sipping intoxicated you with the familiar numbness that tradition, expectation and programming brings and waking up from this meant risking a hangover from hell. You’ll see why recidivism is such a bit thing on the proto-spiritual circuit as many will run all the way to the door of what they’re seeking, knock to get the attention and then run off to hide in the distance as they’re truly scared of the answer to the question they haven’t asked yet. Would you rather know? Or not know? Even if it made every single fiber of your frame rise in fear about the unknown and what it reps? The saddest truth about enlightenment is that one must be willing to step into the darkness to find it and that way lies myths, monsters and madness in equal doses as there is far more to this than most suspect.
What if the life you currently lived was actually a Dr Frankenstein creation that was stitched together from various slivers of your contemporaneous existence in this and other realms? A copy without an original in that respect or a motion picture multiplex that screens all flicks at once to the people watching by editing in bits and pieces of the narrative to create a quagmire which is as odd as it is entertaining. Imagine, just for a moment, someone clicked their fingers and lifted you out of the darkness where you sit, paying obeisance, to the image on the screen you think is reality. Instead you are transported to your own private viewing of individual performances. A few hours later you make your way to the exit and you meet the man who says “Well. what did you think?” and you reply that it all makes way more sense when you realized these tales were part of their own universe with their own message. “I always wondered how that one actor could be dead, alive, the bad guy and good guy in the flick I was watching and now realize he’d actually been cast in different narratives that were stitched together in my consciousness”.
In many respects life is a lot like a dream, it seems. After all, both seem entirely convincing whilst you’re within their grip but its only when you get a broader perspective does the illusion seem quite ridiculous. I say again, if you were being fooled would you prefer to keep going or would you be open to seeing which options are actually available and, most of all, where that reality tunnel you’re digging is headed?
This is what happened to me, almost scene by scene but my story began before conception and thats what makes it so interesting as I don’t talk it, scripted, but live it, authentic. I wonder what would’ve kicked if I’d seen this before I followed the white rabbits tail shaking and tumbled through the shiny lens as I panicked and watched the world I thought I knew as solid, shatter into a billion fragments? I don’t think much would, really. Its simply too well scripted, too intense and too different to even comprehend until a cheery “Tag, you’re it!” is heard as you’re kicked in the rear end and everything goes into a talespin. Not a spelling mistake. Sex, drugs and hypnosis, recollect?
I wonder how many people in mental asylums, prison cells and death beds never clicked what kicked and how many others thought they were off their meds or, even, in on it and pretended something else? Do you believe me? It doesn’t matter if you do because the ones with a clue will know what is true as they reeleyez the Game is what it is. Do you know the wildest thing? The inspiration to watch this flick came from a dream in which I heard “You are Nicholas Van Orton” and I was “Nope, but lets see who that is” as I happened to come upon the perfect vehicle to describe what I’d lived without seeming like I’d flipped my lid. Isn’t that interesting? Here is what I think:
I suspect this is a gift for those who are on their last life in this realm. The trick being that if they kill you dead before the planned end of your grand exit, natural, they can lure you back in again as nobody wants to leave with so many loose ends and unfulfilled potential as they see an old friend hit the “Aha!” as your Soul separates from flesh and the anamnesis kicks in as you wave your gnosis ticket at the flight attendant to avoid a reskin and newly scripted existence. This I truly do think is the deal. The problem is I was abused since inception in any way you can imagine as well as several you probably don’t even think exist. Thats the concern, for me as, through my life, I’ve been a beacon of sanity for all types of lunatics who offered all kinds of insights which would, for most people, flip their lids. I mean, one cannot help but wondering why every paranoid schizophrenic they met, ever, never hallucinated you were someone else – no matter how bad the trip of madness that had them in its grip. That is an extremely odd blip, isn’t it?
The fact that these people were filled to the gills with enough pills to rattle them (against their will) and had depot injections slammed in their rear ends for daring to suggest the world isn’t what it seems would see me, preteen, as a consistent solidity is a bit of an oddity, isn’t it? The fact they felt that I was “One of us within but, outside, you fit in with them” was quite a strange puzzle, I’ll admit, as that phrase came from a Soul I’d never met, who never spoke to his family, Docs or medics or anyone else in the clinic but, for some reason, needed to know my secret as I sat on a bench whilst waiting for someone else really, really made me think. Not as much as the fact that a good friend of mine flipped his lid as my Game was in sesh and I knew, in an instant, he would be the one who hallucinated me as someone else as he stabbed me to death which made me disconnect and go for Self. This was something quite different to those who knew me as I was often the first to help and exceedingly gregarious as well so the question is was his insanity collateral damage or part of a script because if so it deserves an award for lifetime performance. More accurate, I suspect, is that he had his own version of the Game unleashed but reacted differently hence ended up sectioned, outsane. Doesn’t that show the stakes are quite high, in that sense? The fact that every single schizo, ever, sings the same song about what kicks and I get to Witness it from the inside as I take the steps to becoming an actualized mystic seems to hint that this is truly enforced enlightenment and you either ride the dragon or get smoked by it.
Back to the script:
I strongly suspect this happened to me as I didn’t follow the path of least resistance when it presented. That way would have led to me doing low vibration things instead of choosing emancipation. I saw that coming and thus dodged an immense bullet and saved others some pain and suffering but that meant this hand (from a stacked deck) would be debited from my account instead. I still don’t know what happened during those six hours they had me drugged and under hypnosis as they rewrote my script before the Game truly kicked in. Thats the Adjustment Bureau, doing what they do best!
The subconscious is truly a powerful thing, my friend, as it genuinely runs everything. Most people don’t comprehend this. They don’t believe life has a script or know the only free will they get is response-ability. Thats why your parents sent you for a nearly two decade stretch of internment at your local camp of concentration, back when, to buy what they sell in your head via a voice they pretend is them. To me it seems like freedom is a DLC that is hidden behind a paywall of gnosis and the road to it is paved with thorns that, eventually, turn to roses. Should one insist on persisting, Mr Anderson…
What would you do if you lived this, my friend? The bits they excised from the record would make your hair stand on end, turn gray, then fall out with a quickness and all of this before the Game officially begins. At least Nicholas was rich! Is this how coals become diamonds? Is the price one must be willing to pay for liberation? On the flip, words cannot express how immense the thrill is of doing this as you dodge bullets in the Matrix and gain the kind of gnosis most would flip their lids trying to comprehend as its so far beyond their ken of what they Thunk is possible. Lets just say this:
There are the quick and the dead plus the ones in mental institutes as well. The rest of you are square watermelons, in that respect, because one of the strange things about the Game is if you don’t question what it says and run the treadmill none of this will ever, ever happen to you. But, on the flip, if you spent your childhood arguing with any authority that presents and attempts to get in your head as you, instead, rejected their suggestions with a will so immense and passion for the authentic that wouldn’t relent that they couldn’t help but give in, well, best believe the Game will have your number. It did mine. Probably is still counting, as well.
I think back to then and it, literally, feels like lifetimes ago. Not just because I can remember bits and pieces of alternate spins as well as something I won’t mention but will call DVP instead. That bombshell will rip your dome to shreds and its, what I suspect, marks the beginning of a mental breakdown or, if you let it, a breakthrough. Imagine you’d been sent into the world with a solid gold bowl but you had no concept of intrinsic wealth as you were the living embodiment of abundance, generous. Lets pretend it was then dipped in clay then painted as you used it to beg. Some stick colorful images on there, many walk around with it on their hip but a lot just lament that things shouldn’t be like this but don’t truly do anything about it. Then someone comes along, rips it from your grip and smashes it over your head. You are lying there, bleeding. The etheric gutters are lapping at whats leaking with an intense greed as they’ve been waiting to feed on what flows within the veins of the golden. A dazed confusion kicks in. You have a few options:
You can get up and chase the hooligans with an intent to give them a taste of their own medicine or you could, if you wished, just lie there. Staying really, really still. Not even playing dead. No, more like getting accustomed to the inevitable. You feel a strange chill that warms things, long frozen and are flooded with a familiar newness. People are walking around, clueless, and most think you’re just another derelict, sleeping off a canned heat binge. Some may recognize your face and think “Shame, he had such promise as well as his bowl was so immense”. You give not an F. Why? Its the closest to rest you’ve ever had in the flesh as the voice in your head didn’t see this one coming and is now totally dead. And yet, you live. You begin to drift on a certain type of bliss that feels hyper dimensional in essence as you comprehend the Games depth. “Send in the clowns!” the team said. Someone yells “We’re out. How about some machine elves instead?”. And this they did.
“I am not the flesh nor the story in my head and, as I did suspect, there are dark actors in this realm and nothing is what it presents. What the heck is happening?” you think as you pick your Self up off the pavement. You don’t move yet. You sit and click that everyone else, walking around, is totally oblivious. You look at the immense bowl and wonder “For what reason do we carry this? What is the deeper meaning? There is a hole in it that we all constantly try and fill. Its covered with a special kind of filth but I do, distinctly, remember it being different and have been on a quest to recollect what I was told to forget, back when”. Its then you notice something glimmering. When they whacked you with it a tiny bit of it fragmented. “Interesting” you think and start examining.
You notice an immense luster is beaming through it and start removing the old, baked on, ignorance. Here’s the kicker, my friend. For all of your life you’d been begging for that or this be it acceptance, validation or anothers affection. Call it what you will, it was always external. You start laughing, like a lunatic. The passers by now shift their opinion from “Canned heat binge” to “That boys off his meds”. There is no point telling them. They won’t listen. You’re laughing at the cosmic joke. The great, grand wheeze which is tougher than government cheese is to digest and yet packs a similar morphine like hit when it floods your system. Do you know what it is?
The bowl was made of solid gold and the hole, if you reach in, is a fount of the creative that flows, without end aka Inner Sense. See, the more education and status you get the more it gets filled with filth. This is why your favorite artist made the best when he was broke and starving because once he was fat and well fed he could afford a better class of distractions and lost that connection which made him something special. See, the covering is conditioning. I call it a Pane Body, if you will. Its Adulterated, like your parents, and they made you just like them. Thanks to the whims and vagaries of a System that is all around them and tells them what to Thunk, how and when as they run the treadmill of paying bills, raising kids and having them do the same again without ever questioning the paradigm. Tell me, my friend, would you laugh or cry if this kicked? I ran out of tears, back when, as, after a while, you gain such a huge tolerance that fists and whips became steel rods instead and, eventually, even they ping off your skin which just makes you more willfully intense and daring to push against anything, anywhen, that presents because you give not an F about what anyone else says as you’re trying to hold on to that one last string, golden red, of sanity in your grip. Thats the hole I mentioned. Somehow, they even violated this. Or, attempted. My life seems to have been a particularly cruel and sadistic mistress, I’ll admit, except, recently I couldn’t help but wondering:
“Hold on a second. If this entire realm takes place inside your awareness and you’re a fragment of the Prime, pre-existing then you, on some level, must be doing this to your Self. What the F? Is we is some type of masochist? Either that or the rest is incorrect and a huge coping mech made up by a jit who was brutalized six ways from Sunday and then that times ten with the original sprinkled in again, as garnish, when they whacked you on the head with your bowl, now golden, as she said “Stop hitting your Self, stop hitting your Self!” before being gone with the wind and leaving you on the pavement with your Soul in fragments and multi dimensional problems to fix to keep things interesting via the psychospiritual equivalent of balancing a chair on two legs as what they offered, as standard, is too boring. So, which is it?”.
That really made me think because the fact I can recollect previous lives and futures, already kicked, means that me being pure consciousness is for certain. The views, scientific, like the Observer Effect, spooky action at a distance and how an atom tells immense fibs but appears totally solid mixed in with encounters with the dead and having a temporarily sanitizing effect on the worlds of madmen along with intuitive solutions for any problem that would present suggest my awareness is all hypothesis is correct and, when upped in res, that strongly presents a great case for what we term god being pure consciousness so that means the only option left that can string these pearls, coherent, into a sane narrative is that I am doing this to me and this is why I said there are no enemies in this realm, only teachers as they are bits of me (like thee) that I project as an amnesiac god in the flesh to recollect who and where I am as well as what kicks. Phew! No wonder the 81% accept the “I am John of house Smith” script, eh? Its so much more simple…
Back in tribal societies they Knew this, with the capitalization presented, hence why the teens went through initiations that carried the risk of death because if you didn’t make it then better luck next spin and we’ll pour out a little liquor for your spirit as we’re burying. We don’t have that. Instead we get an extended adolescence as evidenced by comment sections and how people, in general, comport themselves. Listen, don’t think I’m above you. Even with the Warrior rhetoric. I am the lowest man on the totem pole, in that respect because if I Know what I said is correct then what the hell am I doing in the flesh unless I really wanted to crank the challenge up to eleven and play the Game to the hilt for this, my final spin. Not that the other lives have been wine and roses. Plenty of sour grapes and thorns were sent that felt like they’d never end but then there were those spent in the neon forest where the sun never sets that were placed in a time when this world was truly heaven sent and we were more spiritual than material and Knew we were the Prime, made manifest. Then I grinned. I did so much I thought I’d split my lips because I, for certain, am an immortal in this immense Game. You may be as well. I can’t tell. Do the Knowledge then report your findings or keep them private, if you wish.
I don’t know if its based on increasing bits of gnosis gained from one life to the next in which one questions the script and thus the System ratchets it up a bit on the next spin to teach you a lesson in compliance which you, true to form, reject and thus the coal of ignorance gains a swift whiff of the potential diamond within and its Self evident you’re no longer following the script and thus are a clear and present threat to the immersion of the rest as they have a lot invested in this ride where you pay for your skin (and the debt of breath to get in) with chunks of Soul that are traded, as and when, with people you may Thunk you’ve just met but are actually working off balances from old spins as we’re stuck in a blind watchermakers creation. Actually, thats a fib as the chap at the helm still has one eye that functions. Want to know the greatest wheeze? The dude above him is super, duper chill and actually has three, functional. The astute reader will have clicked who sends the prophets and which team kills them dead to generate profits instead. What I’m still wondering is where the heck I fit into all of this and why, when I last met death, did I choose to come back in and then fought tooth and nail to reattach my Soul to flesh as the link was most tenuous after having been severed via a bump on the head engineered by a team of ruffians who, seemingly, Know me better than I did my Self but the ironic aspect is I suspected their existence but never comprehended they were the same, surrounding, listening to me generate my hypothesis about an immense Game we all play using our Souls as credits. Ironic, isn’t it?
If I look back to then from the current lens I comprehend that nascent wisdom was actually near total ignorance but, carried within, a glimmer of the genuine. Now that ember lit the wick of the candle that is made of my spinal column and the dark caverns in my chest, head and abdomen are illuminated but don’t think thats the end. Oh, no, no, no, my friend. What if the next step is to shine like the sun and even that is an immense step down from the true Source of luminance who even knows, there may be more above this because whilst turtles come down only peacocks ascend and each one has an eye on its feathers which reps a life that you’ve lived and the biggest trick of the Game is comprehending you aren’t that limited vision but the thing from which they spring and it is eternal as your life is akin to a dream within a dream or a wheel within a wheel which, for most, spins on a treadmill designed to siphon their energetics when, in reality, you were made for off roading and treading a Path you create by roving…
You get up, off the pavement and reach into your bowl, golden. Your hand fits in the hole, perfect, and, from it, you pull out a slip that looks a lot like a fortune cookie that says, in Psylense:
“Go and buy a domain called willhelp then pick the last bit to set the tone for the rest of your adventure in the flesh” so I did. Back then I didn’t have a clue of what would come next and thus it sat for ages with nothing at all on it beyond a page of holding. Thing is, a seed planted in the dirt – like your subconscious – is always growing unless you rip it our or stop nourishing it. See, before the web, this was a real life flex hence why peeps made the trek to come meet and greet to hear me kick the ballistics and now, here we are, nearly six hundred articles and counting. What did I get from playing the Game? Well, it made me embrace my pain as I realized I’d been trained for this since who knows when and that I’d picked the hard mode to gain enlightenment in one spin for my grand exodus and the rest, old friends who pretended to want me dead, played their roles so well as they simply wanted to give me the greatest last life one could get and the best side effect is that is may just assist the rest as its called willhelpme for a reason for ye are another me, my friend, together we.
Thats the trick. Do you get it? There is only ever one Soul in this realm and thus you may not decode at this res, yet, but you will and that brings us full circle, golden, because if its all scripted and we’re playing positions the only thing that makes a difference is your own internal perception which shifts interpretations and this is something demonstrated, real well, in countless impromptu interventions on the pavement in which one presented with a stress of dread that, once unwrapped, contained the gift of presence which, as the name suggests, can only be opened in the moment and that is so totally mind bendingly slick that you too must be, on some level, a pain fetishist who, at this very moment, is begging others for what they can never truly give nor are you willing to put the work in to realize your magnificence as you’ve been so well trained to paint within the lines of the fine print they etched in the clay of ignorance that covers your bowl of golden wisdom that had its higher dimensional access filled and, stranger still, the ones through whom the light doth shine find themselves in mental asylums till, one day, they see one like them within but, externally different.
The question is, how the heck did they Know when I was still ignorant and nowhere near the level of swimming where they’re drowning in the seas of consciousness whilst most are busy treading water in the shallow end and call it “Being Human” as their skin gets wrinkled whilst time progressed and they floundered in ignorance. How many may comprehend that they actually never left the beach and have spent yet another existence with a high tech VR helmet on their head locked in a Cave of ignorance that sold them the image of doing what it just said so, in the end, its like a mind F wrapped in intense pain so no wonder people believe the tale in their head to escape the grip of what truly kicks and takes place in order to sell illusions of delusion and confusion mixed in with hopeful ignorance that masquerades as wisdom and tradition or high tech tricking, silicon pimping, designed to hide their true suffering magnificence and what they fully accept as “the way it is” for life, lived, actually stands as testament to the slickness that makes me end this fresh transmission with an old adage, so relevant:
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
All of that done and said, how can I be mad at old friends for bringing me a life of death, so intense, that the closest equivalent is a flick that came to me in a dream vision and, you know what, I think I’ll stick to this script for a bit as art is a lie that tells the truth in this realm so what better way to kick the ballistics that by undoing Hollywood’s influence, yes?
Can you imagine, just for a bit, that there was a tribe that man had never met that does things different? From birth till death they live like you do but, at the end, when they meet their death is where things go left. What do I mean by this? Simple. The ones still wearing flesh now spend the rest of their times arguing about what X would have did and how that contradicts with ones recollect of Zs example. And so on goes the alphabet until the next gen are talking about “Well, B said X reffed this and I think he’s correct” and so on goes the fairytale. Sounds outsane, yes? Its a perfect example of humanity and stupidity because, on many levels, we do just this and, in the process, miss the potential to enlighten. Both ourselves and the outer realm for it only reflects what is within.
Another example would be if we, as humanity, based our entire world view and worth on who drew the best pic in nursery, back when. Heck, that wouldn’t be too bad if we continually developed our skills based in Inner Sense to refine the paradigm but, in this example, I’m talking of you throwing some ink on a page that the teacher displayed and, from then on out, the whole world uses this as the standard mode of judgment of your worth, intelligence, potential and the rest. In many ways this example lays out the farcical state of what we call education but it also offers an immense hint about how we, individual and collective, are so fallen in terms of resonance. Of what am I speaking? The multidimensional Self. This is who you are in, before and beyond the flesh. It is nothing more and nothing less than pure consciousness which is an aspect of the Prime, pre-existing one that makes it all happen. The reason you don’t Know this is due to the forces in the mid that put their little bid in and spawned the Be Kind, Rewind effect.
Now, once the gnosis clicks there is no unawakening and I strongly suspect this flicker of remembrance carries from one life to the next hence why spiritual adepts invested their time in the flesh to build what death couldn’t destroy as it was beyond its grip. Imagine there is a snowman, frozen, next to it we a have a lake that drips and high in the sky we have a cloud, floating. In this script you are, technically, all three but lets take some poetic liberties and say the lake scares the snow to death with the threat of what comes next as its so rigid and tense it can no longer imagine how true freedom really felt. The cloud, over the hill, is ineffable to it which means that he, in return, gives no F’s about them. Makes sense, yes? “But what of the Sun?” I heard you mention. Thats a great drawing, my friend. Take the gold star and attention as you win the class thats in session. That is your potential to awaken. You can consider this the aspect of intelligence that never fell (aka Inner Sense) but to the Adulterated snow man walking its the antithesis of all it accepts, excepts and is willing to deal with.
In that scenario anyone who said “Listen, we were the water, once upon a when, but then the Titans fell and something else stepped into that maelstrom which brings us to this lowered state of vibration that we call being human”. Say someone listens and states:
How many would listen and how many would be pointing at the drawing they did in Grade Six as “proof” of their talent or acumen? Take this and scale it to PhDs, quarter keys or a string of hot women to sleep with – however you measure your skills in this realm – and you’ll see humanity and stupidity are the same thing. To awaken the Warrior within one must declare war on the (false) self at the helm and this, if my readings are correct, is a condensed nutshell of what every prophet said before they killed him dead and used the message for divided conquering and, what else, profits. Funny, isn’t it? Somebody once called me an expansionary reductionist which I thought was a perfect way of describing his interpretation of my non dual perspect as the micro/telescope attests. Most are stuck on stupid in this realm. Thats just how it is for the current spin but this sheer lack of wisdom I find most perplexing as if I were to pick any single Soul and speak to them I’d guarantee the potential for awakening exists. Some do it in increments. Others want the whole kit. Case in point, a man and wife argued until I pointed out the hint that they’re relating to each other via projections in their heads that are tainted by old perspects of resonance so if they defeat these demons the modern interact will shift. That it did and they were quite content to go back and live the lives as they did hence why its said that man, often, stumbles over the truth in this realm but picks himself up again and carries on like nothing happened.
If that were me and someone were to demonstrate, so well, that I am the only Soul in the realm as evidenced by the shift in interactions and the instant defusal of arguments I wouldn’t stop there. Would you, my friend? We’ve not only put the horse before the cart but we’ve turned it on its head so the wheels are in ascent and make no traction as we whip the foolish mule of the flesh whilst running the treadmill. Its like I said in the story of the steaks as that parable outlines, real well, how we Ctrl C, Ctrl V mindsets without stopping to reality test the coding. Me? I didn’t choose that option because I could tell, real well, that everyone around me was miserable.
I refer to that as my first existential crisis and not long out of Pampers I was when it kicked. I mean, can you recollect the exact moment, back when, you realized your parents too were once kids and didn’t jump into this world fully formed? Really ponder this at depth as, now, it may seem Self evident but then we put the pieces together as we get em, take em apart again, look at another angle then compare to the bits in our grip and rearrange them, frequent. A childs mind on Monday is nothing like what is within on Tuesday, yes? Heck, you can say they shift their terrain by the moment and this most accurate as we are nothing more or less than a fleshly Ship of Theseus in that respect that is held together with consciousness. Did you know there isn’t an atom within that is older years seven? Cue:
“Ackshually, thats incorrect as the proteins in the crystal lens don’t shift, neither do the teeth enamels resonance our neuronal DNA as well”.
Thank you, my friend! Now we have that correction from a lifelong D&D fan who chipped in you can amend what I said with this detailed correction. As always, you shouldn’t believe a thing I said but, instead, aim to prove me incorrect by researching the topic and doing the Knowledge in the process.
If we let the childs mind develop, unencumbered, as outlined in this sketch the world wouldn’t be as hellish as then things like this (where two words shattered your inner realms) would be events, long distant, and we would, instead, be far more resonant. Thats Inner Sense. That is akin to the snowman looking to the Sun and comprehending the shadows depth of what kicks in the Valley of the Plebs as the waters evaporate but there is something within that wishes to stick to this element and not ascend as it prefers to be what Jesus called a hidden evil. There is so much more to this sketch and even though I’ve penned hundreds of articles saying the same thing I won’t relent as each one of us splits the clear light of consciousness at our own resonance and this process is akin to the opera singer shattering the glass which I intend to put back together again but not as what they built but the original sand, instead.
Do the Knowledge, my friend. Because it won’t do itself.
“Well, Q Two B Four C, his excellency, said A Six Eight R left a most wise comment on the original life lived by Four One Pee who viewed X as correct for, was it not stated…”.
Thats how you lot sound to me, dead as can be. Maybe thats why Jeezy said we should let em bury em for he was speaking on sentient snowmen of ignorance. Least, thats how I decoded his message but didn’t leave it in the past but used it to unwrap the present which came as a gift wrapped in papers of fear and dread as I looked at the alligator in the sea and waggled my finger, thusly:
“You, you really are slick! I appreciate your tricks and making this level the challenge what it is but lets leave that stupidity for humanity as I’m about my biz so thanks for the hints that allowed me to awaken my multidimensional Self so now I must dip and hit the spiritual gym and put that work in the with the flesh to develop my non local awareness“.
The Game of Souls has you, my friend. I can’t save you and nobody else can do the same thing as its a question of Self and that can only kick when the snowman recollects he is not the frozen water at its lowest resonance nor the gator in the lake with its threats and collection plate but actually all of this including the blue skies and the hill as well as that cloud, in the distance, and the sun that is shining hence its a case of identification which is why I said, once again, we are, more or less, stories made flesh but don’t think, even for a sec, there aren’t dangers to deprogs as they kick like a mule with shoes made of explosive for one who is so invested in the grift they believe what Simon Says and thus are nothing more or less than a living hostage that assists in looting the temple of their potential with a gun, gripped. Global Stockholm Syndrome and the world it writ…
“Know thy Self” is the wisest you can get. Note that isn’t “Know Q Two B Four C and his decrees” or any of the rest of that mess, yes?
I am not my flesh nor the story in my head. What I am, my friend, is identical to you, in the end:
Pure consciousness.
Granted, my NDE bought this truth into sharp relief but even before the latest trek to the other side of death and back again I was aware of the subtext when it comes to this realm as so many things just didn’t make any sense with the narrative they sell. Take spiritual events, for example. I would be willing to bet that if you were to sit and kick it with your kith and kin you’d discover a whole heap of said things that, for some reason, you all brush under the carpet without considering the implications. In this text I shared a quip about a man who went to a distant village and rotated his plate before he ate for no reason he could comprehend beyond it feeling correct. Turned out he may just be a deceased member of said family who reincarnated back in to this lineage. This is why I’ve said, again and again, that if you feel an urge, deep down within, that you really should go to a certain place and visit you should. Let me expound on this:
Imagine a candle sits with a cover on top of it. There are various holes and slits that allow the illumination to shine without whilst allowing perception in. When you move to another location, for reasons, esoteric, the shroud doth shift hence why you tend to feel different. This cover is what I’ve termed the Pane Body and the most amazing thing is how you can visit a spot and huge chunks of this inheritance just melt. The problem is that people ignore everyday miracles and, sadly, most are totally numb to spiritual message. Case in point, I’ve narrowly avoided so many deaths by listening to these hints and even when I didn’t I was, miraculously, protected from badness in a way that made me stop, regroup and reflect on what was said and the subtle aspects. That really is the key to all of this, my friend, hence why I said that we, at present, are walking around with welders mitts on our fist. This is the numbness of Adulteration and its grip is so common, so standard that to be without makes the world feel like it overwhelms. As I started to come face to faceless with this painful inheritance I felt like I was reliving hurts that were so vivid and intense that I wanted to return to the crutch of my coping mechs. Comprehend this:
The body, as standard equip, is drawn toward pleasure and away from pain to help its survival. In this thread I linked a vid of an antelope that literally felt a leopard embracing it. Can you imagine how that must have felt? Nature kicked in and it stopped resisting and this state, long term, is learned helplessness. There was another example in which dogs placed in a cage where the floor would taze them leapt the boundary to get to a bit that was safe but if there were was no such thing they just sat there, sizzling. Worse still, if they were moved to another spot where they could escape they didn’t. Says a lot, yes? The same goes for elephants who are trained, back when, that a stake in the ground with a chain, quite big, can hold them in check so when they grow to a size, immense, they no longer reality test as they run an old OS in their heads which says “Can’t win, don’t try”. Mice were placed into a maze and trained to run it for rewards. At one point they came across an immense illumination and, being curious, in they went. The scientist hit em with a trauma imprint of electric and then had them reproduce. An unexpected thing did kick as their kids, compared to a control group, aced the test and ran it like they knew what the sketch is. Isn’t that amazing? Really consider the implications of this, my friend, and see how they may apply in your current frame of reference. Now, when they came to a spot where it was dark then a light flicked they all, to a mouse, froze and displayed all the bits of an acute stress response. Even without the electric. Really ponder the implications then see if you can draw a link with why there have been non stop terrorist events that scare the crap out of the public who then accept more and more regs without stopping to reality test. No wonder they’re so full of stress, coping mechs and depression but keep on tuning in for another dose of what Simon Says…
Did you know the chance of having a terrorist off your on switch is around one in nine million? There go them numbers again! You’d almost swear the fix was in. Contrast this with doctors being the third leading cause of death and tell me the world we’re in isn’t a tiny bit backwords? Use this to innerstand forewards, my friend, and you just may get my drift. Why do we ignore spiritual events? In this terminology I ref to those higher states of consciousness that weren’t taught by years of “Sit still, look ahead” training but we all feel, nonetheless. Like the sense of being stared at and such things. Actually, read this article about a geography test and dancing to see how our brain correlates its datasets but, like negative thoughts, we can challenge these commandments and this, in the end, is the main difference between a Warrior and Slave in this realm as the former comprehends he is the Witness and thus is identical in this life or the next, awake or in bed and any other variable you can imagine as the Game takes place inside his awareness.
Some listened, amused. Others brushed it off as a childs incessant stream of questions that weren’t worth answering. In the local schizos, however, I found an enrapt audience as well as the criminals, derelicts and addicts who often said:
“Kid, you always give me something to think about, thats for certain. Keep at it, whatever kicks it will be interesting to see how you develop”.
The fact that these mad men could, perfectly, hallucinate something that, to them, was solid flipped my lid. It really, really made me ponder about the true nature of this sketch as a dude with an imaginary dog (that switched breeds, as and when) literally made all of the correct motions and responses when petting, down to the sharp withdraw and involuntary raise of hand to lips when said pet nipped him. “Surely he can’t be faking it as that seemed so natural?”. I asked him to keep a pad and pen on him and note down little blips then, as and when, refer back to them. Slowly he began to click that the poodle in front of him was, previously, a doberman. This is much like the rest who Thunk they’re compos mentis hence why I’ve said that everyone is possessed but no one realizes it. The ancient Egyptians did hence the Negative Confessions they writ which, at their most basic, affirm:
“What I am is so glorious and immense that its effulgence cannot be contained – let alone generated by – the flesh ergo I reject what you’ve said as cheap parlor tricks designed to trick me back into the flesh via induced guilt trips“.
That is why the culture, so advanced that we are mere primitives in comparison, was built solely around death as they wanted to dip before things get real thick and people don’t know their rear end from the elbow they’ve been trained to lick. Or die in the attempt. This is why I said life is a psychosocial treadmill and most peoples version of religion is a spiritual take on the same thing as they make very little progress in that respect as they may bear the external marks and symbols but, within, they’re the same old degenerate but with a better coping mech. Like the ex crack dealing knuckle head turned kufi wearer, par excellence, who was ready to outline ya man after I bought what he said was dead back out of him again in a pavement conversation. After you’ve read this ponder this exchange with one of his friends where I suggested the phone in his grip may just the Dajjal of legend…
Why do we ignore spiritual events? Like the fact that the three main religions of the West have a black cube in their midst and, just like the Hajj, we have a similar thing kicking on the pole of Saturn. I mean, what the F? The same with the fine tuned levels of tolerance and how in the heck can we not be in a sim if Nintendo employ a dude called “Bowser” and, by some coincidence, another chap of the same name came along and hacked them? Better yet, why does Mario – a plumber, a humble trade linked, back when, with the traits of said planet – lay the pipe to a Princess of high standing who is kidnapped, yet again, by a pesky reptilian? These things went through my mind as a jit as I played the Games in question and I’ve got some answers now but I’ll let you ponder it. The very fact that the black mirror in your grip can make you “time travel” to places distant, see the long dead or envision scenes that never happened as well as being able to shift your consciousness from totally erect to fully stressed as well as shedding tears or cheering by rearranging three pixels, repeated, of green, blue and red blew my mind to shreds as does that homonym. I mean, why don’t we “feargive” and “freeget” instead of the four they mentioned? Why do golfers yell this? Its origins are surrounded in myth but consider this tale about the working man and his young wife, attractive, who snipped the steaks he bought in celebration and tell me if you do the same thing due to inheriting ignorance, my friend?
I Knew people around me were off their heads as a jit and thus refused to acquiesce. No matter how much “sense” they tried to beat into my rear end. I simply would not relent. What sends this this is a product of the combined misspendings of what would, one day, be termed my youth and that caboose was akin to a VW Beetle filled with clowns pulling up at a circus, three ringed, as they revealed themselves to be one and the same as the DMT machine elves that dragged your Soul to this realm. Maybe this is why the schizos clicked and listened, intent, to one who spoke their language as I, then, didn’t comprehend that I’d grow to be a mystic and thus swim where they’re drowning. Or, maybe they did and were, in their own way, offering assistance as they held me overhead and passed my awareness from one to next but that, again, also has its parallels in the other side who abused me, no end, but thats another topic. Let me tell you this:
The more you embody the illusory ideal this world says is perfect the more you’ve bought in to the trick the one eyed king says is the only option. Just look at the immense uptick in plastic surgery and such things and the women who won’t leave the crib without without a load of slap on their dish and, in the process, often end up looking like strange as hell. This I don’t mean as a diss but, damn, this contouring trend is as ridiculous as Hollywood constantly putting Black men in a dress. But, what do you know, they suddenly find “success” after this. Why do we ignore spiritual events? What could be subtext of all of this? I’m not a human, I’m a Soul, my friend ergo I have no problem with who you wish to sex (as long as they consent) or how you wish to chop or rearrange your bits but, in the larger scale, it all seems to hint that people really don’t like themselves which is mad ironic when you consider they request the rest respect their decision and demand acceptance. Doesn’t that seem a bit schizo? It does to me but your mileage could vary…
As we, each, are the only Soul in this realm so it is what it is. Life, to me, is inspiration and I recently read that the BBL trend of fat ass injections creates a stench that smells a lot like necrosis and considering how so many women have bolt ons these days its nigh on inevitable they’re becoming cat ladies in training whilst the men, on the flip, will be sexing robots real quick. This is where we are, as a collective. No wonder I said you lot are outsane as I’m obviously in the minority as I unconditionally accept my Self. Why do we ignore spiritual events? Are we tone deaf to the cries, within? Better yet, why do so many white people, on average, totally lack rhythm? I once noticed a chap clapping along to a track and I was perplexed to intuit what, exactly, he was hearing as he seemed to shift, at random, from the bass drum to a high hat or the note she was singing. Well, at least he was enjoying himself and harming no one else. Just an observation. An old African woman once said:
“If you can talk, you can sing and if you can walk then dancing is just the next step” with an infectious giggle and she was the most spry seventy five year old I’d ever seen and even that was a guess as “Chile, you only have one birth day in this realm!”. So much wisdom from a woman, totally uneducated. I wonder what she would have said about the current trend of everyone emulating the big booties of the continent and plump limps they, previously, denigrated… Everyone wants to be anyone but themselves which is a bit mad, isn’t it? Could this be due to the trauma imprints that I mentioned, back when? Are we simply the human equivalent of tazed rats, chained elephants and caged dogs that accept our learned helplessness? In that case the life I’ve lived with its constant brushes with death that forced me to dive to the depths, like Gilgamesh, and become immortal in the process. Actually, I always was this but how many of you candles forget you’re the flame, eternal, and not the wax, melting? Maybe thats the matter with spirit, eh?
Sit around with your folks. Ask them to list the strange spiritual events and any forms of “coincidence” that lead to the life they lived. I’d be interested to hear them as one dude, who was as material as a brick, came back in, scratching his head, with an immense list that simply couldn’t be F’d with. He said:
“Blimey! Either we’ve got the luck of the Irish (as Scotsmen) or something really, really strange is happening” as he detailed his wifes premonition to not get back with an ex that led to her meeting the man to whom she’d hitch as well as the time he, personally, fell asleep at the wheel after finally clinching a deal and had no recollection of the trip beyond waking up the next day, safe, in bed. He’d totally erased this recollection from his head until she mentioned it and when he started pondering the sketch more and more things popped in which lead to calls to the rest and thus he pulled out this huge list of this that were beyond explaining via a lens purely material. Its the same with creativity, hence why I said its not of this realm and why one should learn to flex the muscle of imagination again as that truly is the key to the Kingdom.
There are some that, of their own free will, take a shovel and start digging. Friends and especially family may tut tut at them making a mess as they attempt to question and dissuade them from this course of action. “Its not written therefore isn’t sanctioned. Why on Earth would you choose to do this? You bring shame on us with your actions” and various other forms of emotional blackmail and guilt tripping kicks in. See, the truth of the matter is that you doing this signals something they daren’t themselves and causes an immense amount of stress due to their noninvestment in the life unexamined they’re only currently half aware of living. The type that feel the splinter of the mind inside must do this, irrespective, and thus don’t often give in. Those who do, button down and fall in as expected hate their straight laced life and often take it out on their children from whom they demand the same conformity using tricks, identical. Very often this springs from on from one generation to the next until we get:
The child steps into this realm and happily dances and skips around the surface as they are entirely unaware there are landmines sprinkled beneath that have gained in strength due to those who came before not heeding the call of their presence. Eventually they are blown sky high and a huge hole is ripped in the fabric of their awareness. Here we see a divergence as there are some will pretend it never happened and act in ways to numb the reality sinking in and those who’ll dive into the trench in order to find what kicks beneath the surface, who placed it there and to what end.
The third kind are precisely hit with an air to ground missile which spits like it was sent with the intent to kill them stone dead. As a mushroom cloud of trauma spills from the abyss that now defines their sojourn into the flesh they find themselves pretty much an alien compared to those around them as none can see what they felt or even have a clue of what they Witnessed in this event. Many go the path of madness, addiction, wanton violence and a great many other things which attempt to circumvent the truth of the situation. Society en masse is no help as these kind of things are spoken on only in secret behind closed doors to those whose lips are sealed. After all, someone must design, create and then fire this etheric missile and thats where the Slave/Masters step in. Sadly many are entirely ignorant about how the same weapons had been used so well against their own people and thus the threat they rep to their own race comes much further down the scale of their awareness than to where they’re being misled after a lifetime of miseducation. Often a lot of these types have had their own landmine event, either them or a a parent and that perspective is quite intriguing, should you wish to seek the correct answers by first questioning the rhyme behind the reason for the motivation that pulled you in to the grip of a liar who said “Trust me, bro!” before weaving his spell to bite at your ankles.
I’m talking to you from the original ground zero where I’ve been sitting as I dig. Not only did the first mushroom cloud land and vaporize anything that could be called a childhood there have been many others since then to destroy so much of what many take for granted:
Friends, family, sexual liaisons without magical intent designed to ensnare my awareness into a finer web of limitation and stress by promising the opposite and delivering yet more programming that I then reverse engineer in order to keep digging. Such is the life of an alchemist which is why Warrior describes it best as you quite literally must take your coping mechs, defense strategies and modes of avoidance to war in order to uncover the will required to keep going against the odds. The alternative is to remain within a living hell and totally unaware of your purpose or of what you are a capable. I call this the coal to a diamond thing as its exceedingly accurate.
So, by now you should be aware of where you fit on this scale. Those who are stuck to the surface will cling to the symbols they were given (whether religious or corporate) as their chosen frame of reference and thus total investment is given without question or reflection of what lies within. The land mine crowd are generally either held in the tight grip of compulsion that disguises their avoidance as they mostly do not recollect this event with any true form of clarity. We see a lot of addicts in this stage as well as the common phrase “You are so much more talented than this. Why are you wasting your life in this way?” as people on the outside can the potential with they themselves are avoiding. A slim percent put that work in, do the Knowledge and start the alchemical process which brings in a shift and builds the way to allow a clearer perception.
The third crew, very often, become schizophrenic. I mean that in the true, genuine sense and not the label they apply to many who are sitting in mental asylums, doped up to the eyelids and aren’t actually of this ilk. See, this kind is what you can call best as the malfunctioning mystic as they drown in the waters of higher perception the actualized swims in for this is what lies beneath the seemingly solid earth they were bull penned into by living and as they make their journey in the flesh they come out the other end with a totally different perspective as they look down at the Valley of Plebs from a higher vantage.
From here it all seems quite clear and what is happening is very slick. See, none of these boundaries actually exist and, stranger still, there is only one person on the planet. He has both dwelled on the surface in ignorant bliss and stepped on the landmine hidden. Not to mention the who air to surface missile think of directed intent, most traumatizing. Did you know that on top of various mountains that people call religious there observation temples dedicated to seeking out an alien presence. What does that make you think about the true nature of the ones who the scriptures penned and how it relates to all of this?
The Warrior looks down from the hill and notices the valley is entirely empty. “Curious” he thinks and then it clicks he is entirely disconnected and dispassionate about his former existence. “Interesting” she reasons whilst taking it all in as the alchemy does its thing and that which never was realizes what it isn’t and thus comes the next question “What am I then?“. Thus the dig flips and an ascent begins as one starts to map the higher cosmos as this is from whence they came and the only place to aim as only those capable of transcending the Game can reclaim their credit (aka the Soul) at the end and make their exit.
The rest will be plugged in again for another spin. Many will return to the surface, hold aloft symbols they don’t truly click and have no wish to examine the underlying reason or hints. Some will find the landmines and then either chase or avoid them whilst a few that are hit by the missile will either step on the medically paved road which says “Here lies madness” or learn the art of non-reaction and create their own mode of transcendence. In many ways we are all in one of these three options. I’ll let you tell it, in that respect, because its all about trauma and illusion in this realm because we can fake everything but being in pain and that should offer a huge hint about the nature of the intent that powers this and why the flesh is set in direct opposition as it seeks pleasure and avoids the opposite as part of its standard equipped OS.
Of course, this isn’t a welcome development as it hurts like hell and the deck is stacked to ensure you don’t pick this option. 8% of the planet isn’t much and those who know from within grok this is exactly how it is. Even if you’ll never hear these sentiments coming from those in the missile business as they quite enjoy blowing things up for fun and profit. The trick is to use it. Take the energetics as a gift. Don’t react. Clean up your perception. Strip the wavelength of its narrative and peep what remains and how it feels. Where does it lead? What does it mean? How different is your present frequency to the initial in terms of resonance? What is the message of the medium, transcendent? This is how the coal actually becomes a diamond as its slow process of filtering that cleanses the reflective consciousness into something so hard and pure that no weapon formed against it prospers. In that respect you really could claim the Opponent is simply providing a helping hand to his Victim by attempting to get him out of this due to the pain they inflict but that, once again, unravels another thread full of loose ends as this question brings us full circle to the intent of why this realm exists if finding the exit is so difficult.
“Say, you’ve got something of a rep and I’m quite inquisitive about spiritual things. Do you mind if we kick it, for a bit?”. Khidir was super chill and agreed this be interesting so off they went. He did have, however, one request:
“Whatever I do you can ask no questions. Instead query your Self and see what answers manifest“. Moses nodded his head and thus on an adventure did they set. Khidir was a dude from the old school called “crazy wisdom” and this you’ll see well as they do progress across this realm. They came to a river, immense. An old man sat with his boat so K asked him:
“Say there, fella, mind if we borrow this ship to get across to the next? Once there we’ll tie it safely and I surely would appreciate this good deed”. The man smiled and accepted what he said as the bloke seemed more than genuine. The two clamber in and make the trip then, at the other end, Khidir looks dead at him and drilled a hole through the vessel! The old man surely wept and regretted the faith placed in him. K, true to his word, tied the boat where he said as the other watched it, sinking. Moses was aghast but kept his lip, zipped. On went the trip until they landed in a village. No matter where they went they could not find a decent gent that would provide them with a drink. Parched and at their wits end they were further insulted and jeered by members of this enclave. Nevertheless they continued on this trek until the village was almost left and they still hadn’t had a drop to drink. K stopped next to a wall that was rickety and almost felled. He grabbed some clay from nearby and set to repairing it in earnest.
“This man is an idiot“. Moses thinks, to himself. He truly relished the work and did it with immense focus and a grin. Moses could not resist but question his mindset until he was gently reminded of the T&Cs he’d accepted. Before this could sink in K gripped a small boy and choked him to death. Mose was beside himself at seeing such senseless violence from a man they had professed was a beacon of holiness. He yelled:
“What you are doing is not only abhorrent and abnormal but it quite wicked as well. To bring death to an innocent is something I simply cannot countenance. To hell with what I said, I demand answers, this instant” he said as he stamped his sandal. Khidir merely grinned then reminded him his word he’d given but Moses would not relent. He called him a miscreant, said he’d misplaced his intent and had bought in to an image that, in reality, was not accurate. K shook his head, nonplussed, then said:
“Cool, as you wish. You are aware that most who wear the flesh are ignorant and you know a little more than them. In turn, I am aware of greater than thee ergo I will soothe your perplexion and then we drift for we are not woven of the same thread as you evidently don’t comprehend”. He went on to tell him how, shortly, the king would commandeer all boats that are sea worthy for his coming military thing. “By doing this I saved the fishermen as the soldiers will ignore it. Had it been left whole they surely would have taken it and the poor man would have been left without a way to get fed”. Moses accepted this but questioned why he built up a wall in a village that had insulted them and wouldn’t even offer a drink, no matter how polite the request. “I do not get how you can, with a grin, repay good for evil? It makes no sense”. K, once again, enlightened him by sharing how the wall had, hidden within, a stash of gold that was the inheritance of children too young, currently, to handle it. “Had it been exposed their greedy caregivers would have usurped it for its presence is a secret. Now, thanks to what we did, the next gen will be able to claim what their father left once their age has progressed and they can handle it”. Light started shining into his darkness but he still could not fathom the death of a child which, to him, was unconscionable. It turns out the boy, when grown, was destined to become a tyrant and kill millions at a whim. “The sheer bloodlust and wickedness that runs through him would have made him the thing of legends when it comes to evilness ergo I did the world a favor by snapping his neck instead”. Moses fell to his feet and beseeched him:
“O, wise one, I am but a foolish ignorant. Please forgive my judgments which I now see were totally incorrect. I wish to continue this trip and soak up your wisdom in order to become upstandingly correct”. K was having none of this and sent him packing as he continued his adventures in the flesh.
When this tale came to mind I couldn’t help but think that A) its timing was exceedingly fortuitous and B) I truly am the luckiest man in this realm for there are only a few traps life can set but many fall in them, nonetheless. It reminded me of another tale from a place further East which said:
A King of the Hindu realm, back when, was entranced by the countenance of a river goddess whom he wished to bed and share his throne as well. She agreed and the date was set but she said:
“No matter what I do you must not question it. If you don’t I will be yours till the end and if you do I’ll be gone with the wind and this you will certainly regret”.
Madly besotten he agreed as, in his head, whatever the divine made flesh did it must be pure and correct. They were wed and, in due time, a child was gifted to them. The pregnancy went well and the day after said manifested into this realm she took her son to the river and drowned him. The King was beside himself. His heir, his child, was no more. Worst of all, it was his wife that did it. She, on the flip, was grinning like it was a most excellent thing. He reminded himself of his pledge and went on ruling the kingdom. Privately he mourned the loss of his first son and found no answers came, within. He dared not ask for the pain he felt would be doubled if she left and thus he sat alone and cried, thinking about what could have been. Soon she was pregnant again and he was beside himself with jubilation but, just like the last time, she drowned what filled the cradle with a beatific radiance before it had had a chance to live. This happened again and again until the 8th child came to them. He could not bear the anguish any more nor could he make sense of such tragic events from a woman upon whom he lavished affection. “Stop! I beg of thee. Let my son breathe and just be. Why on earth are you doing this? Are you an angel or demon? I demand an answer” which she was only too happy to provide after reminding him of what they agreed, back when. The King gave not an F. There were lines and limits and this woman had crossed them, time and again. He had to assert himself. She replied, demurely:
“O, wise King. To be born on Earth for a god is a curse, indeed. See, previously, the natural elements which govern this realm were blighted, most viciously by a Rishi who had a sacred cow called Nandini. They coveted what he possessed and when he would not part with it they stole it instead. The wise man was enraged and what a man of Knowledge says doth stick ergo he said they shall manifest in this realm with the veil of ignorance draped over them as they bear the pain and stings we call being human. They swiftly realized their mistake but the damage was done as the vibration from his lips had its own resonance. The sage did relent and said that only one of the brothers, he who did the theft, shall feel the full weight of the curse he sent by living an entire life in the flesh.
Do you see, O wise King, how I was simply doing what is best by saving them from this realm and now you have your next gen and I will return to my abode as well for I have carried out the duty life gifts and I thank you, wholeheartedly, for your assist in making this possible. Here is your son but, know this, he will never rule your kingdom nor his sons as well”. With this she bid him good evening and, true to her word, was gone with the wind. The King wept at his ignorance as he held the infant with a tender grip as he finally came to comprehend the greater sketch of which he was, until then, totally ignorant. The boy grew to be a fearsome Warrior, undefeated in battles or skirmish which bought immense security to the kingdom.
See, upon hearing their plight, the water goddess had agreed to carry them and bring their immortal essence to this realm and then send it back again. This interplay truly hints that not only does life follow a script, most intricate, but that everything has a meaning which one can only comprehend when seen from a higher level. Like a bird that flies, high in the skies, above the forest of illusion this, I feel, is a fitting parable for my predicament as I, currently, am fighting through the thicket in search of a drink and shelter which the heavenly messenger overhead does direct as it guides my every step ergo I cannot help but wondering about my role in all of this and the deeper meaning as well because I look at a world that is filled to the gills with wickedness in which evil runs, unchecked, whilst good men die like dogs and then there is the prophet thing as well. Note I do not claim to be any of these things but these tales, ancient, filtered into my consciousness at the appropriate moment and the fit was so perfect as it explains, real well, my predicament for I am akin to a blind man with an elephant but wise enough not to cling to the one bit in my grip as I move around this immense thing and sense with tenderness what I stitch together with intuition in order to try and glimpse the whole thing.
If you found the truth, would you tell or hide it? They say a little Knowledge can be a dangerous thing and, previously, when it was the Path of Power which I tread I would have screamed from the parapet about the true cause of evil in this realm. But now, presently, I swim through the Way of Wisdom instead and its currently unfathomable depth has me questioning the rest of which, previously, I was totally certain hence I turn to thee, my friend, with what I’ve said as two minds are better than one when it comes to comprehend the full sketch. The Warrior in question, born in the house of a King, became skilled not just in the killing fields but higher philosophies as well along with a thorough innerstanding of the divine realms hence he sat not on a throne but protected it instead using his talents and strength to become a legend in the flesh. His name, Bhishma, means “He who undertakes a severe vow” and the gift for this was he got to choose his time of death.
Loyalty was his greatest strength and he navigated the waters of statesmanship like an expert at the helm of a massive vessel under his commandment as a lot of what he did bought immense benefit to those who were around him thanks to his sage wisdom and guidance. He chose and selected partnerships that bought many couples marital bliss whilst, himself, remaining single in order to assist the King. Covered with arrows and slings after ten hard days in battle he still wouldn’t relent until he’d poured his lifes wisdom into the next generation who listened with bated breath. I guess the story is that reality follows a script and we, to a man, play our positions ergo what can one do but put one foot in front of the next and do what they feel in their chest is correct for even though I’ve lived a life many would class as a living hell the boon one gets from this is an immensely empathetic sense and skills to cure the ills most would rather die than admit. In many ways we, daily, battle with forces of ignorance as the old tale of light and darkness, engaged in a battle since time, immemorial, is, when seen from a higher lens, simply reflective of the Yan and Ying which is why I’ve said that G.O.D is actually an acronym which stand for Generation, Operation and Destruction as we are, in the end, immortal beings wearing flesh for a jaunt in this realm which, itself, is not a cause but effect of dimensions above it. This is why I humbly request that may the truth protect me, everywhen, and offer its wisdom and guidance in this quest for liberation as my intent is to leave this world better than I found it and this can manifest as a simple thing like picking up a bottle which a drunk tossed on the pavement which may prevent an accident in which childhood exuberance leads to a trip to the hospital or it could be far greater things because who I am at the present is so totally different to who I’ve been, back when, that the old alchemists principle of transmutation and elevation with continual refinement is correct hence why I have said there are no strangers or enemies in this realm for the former are aspects of me, made manifest to assist, whilst the latter are teachers that offer lessons no one else could present.
