willhelp.me

We allow the inferior to lead and these are the consequences we reap. Look around at the world, these politicians who come, hat in hand, begging for this and that with promises and new contracts that state they’ll bring change. At the end of the day they lap the cream those who buy their assent give and nothing the people want ever changes. They say that folk get the leaders they deserve. What does this say about you, my friend?

You could flip it and ask me but then I’ve never voted. I see it as a pointless thing because if it truly had the power to change anything you wouldn’t be allowed to exercise it. Like psychedelics, in that respect. Ironic, yes? Many could argue (and see clearly) that the religious tales of yore that were filled with trips to other realms were most assuredly penned whilst under the influence of an altered state that came either via various rites or imbibed plant delights. Not for nothing do they grow freely on da vine. Nothing is hidden if its all in plain sight. Taking it forth to today and pretty much every malady that plagues the race from OCD to stress, terminal illness and the fear of death as well as the states that originally built that temperament that led to the sickness could be thoroughly flipped via the use of these substances. Once upon a when people who were paid to listen to people talk about their problems realized how worthless it is because you simply cannot solve something from the depths with pure intellect. Emotions are vivid, free and living and the problem with trauma is we disconnect as part of our coping mechanism. What did they do? They offered a hit of MDMA and then guidance where the client went directly to the source of their problem but not with egoic consciousness (that plays its games of “He said… She said”) but actual direct imperience.

The results were staggering. People with lifelong PTSD were totally healed in a few sessions and came away with a new framework that made them feel more complete than they were before these lessons. “Its like…” he said, as he attempted to search for the words. “Like the pain had a meaning and it was shining its light on what wasn’t real but I was too scared to let go as I thought I needed it“. When asked what remains in its stead now he is no longer clutching the cause of his suffering he replied “Freedom. Its not emptiness as I feel way more than I ever did. Its like a childish state of happiness but not frivolous”. This is what I mean by Inner Sense and why so many of you will read my texts without ever grasping the essence as your Adulterated consciousness is itself a symptom of this world and its socially sanctioned sickness. Like I said:

We allow the inferior to lead and these are the consequences we reap. Those who really could see and take us where we need to be, individually and collectively, have no desire for the throng that attempts to elevate them over head. Why? “I can shoulder the responsibility for my own miss steps but the cost when it comes to bringing guidance to those who somehow think I’m more than them I cannot digest because the burden is immense”. He went on to describe the image of a man walking up a steep hill that reveals itself to be a mountain whose environment grows increasingly treacherous. After making it to the peak he sees what he sees and is overpowered by the beauty and supreme perfection of the scene. “I simply must share” he thinks and makes his descent into the valley beneath.

The people are lazy. Most do not believe. Those he forces to come along soon start flagging. “The air is thin. My feet are hurting. Why don’t you just tell us what it is?” and then the dissension kicks in. Eventually he ends up carrying all of them and at one point where he is totally exhausted he slips and they all fall to their deaths. “That would be on me, see? Its a sad truth but spiritual evolution is a private business and thus its said I am my only student and sole teacher as well”.

Suddenly it made sense why this man had such a rep for wisdom that was only overshadowed by his cantankerousness. “It was like you wanted people to hate you and stay away” I said. He replied “You are sitting there dressed in pristine white threads, yes? Imagine you ran into a group of old friends who wondered where you’d been and wanted to exchange pleasantries over drinks and revelry. What would happen? Obviously those linens would soon be encased in filth due to the differences between what you and they did on the reg and that was the initial reason for your disconnection“.

He added that in many ways the world as it stands scares him due to what he’d found was connected via a thin golden string and it took so much effort over so many lifetimes that he wasn’t keen on jeopardizing it.

Imagine if we had people like this running companies and congress. What kind of world would they build? But, like the example says, these folks have no interest and those who do slide into that void are generally quite wicked because that is whats needed to gain such a position and then keep it. Look at the blood red ink that writ our history as a collective and the fact that when it comes to the weak with ethics and the strong with greed its easy to see who will bleed and weep when these two forces meet. This is what happened, long, long ago at what I call the end of the world.

We were all brown skinned. The hues may have varied but we were all equipped with the same tint that melanin gifts and thus we saw through a similar lens which had a natural resonance. Eyes as well. It was a time when darkness reigned supreme and people were neither scared of nor called it a beast as nothing was hidden from those who were born into a culture that had attained mastery over its Self in all realms of which Earth was the most dense. For the moment.

This is why you see images of the serpent as an object of worship and veneration as well as the Egyptian headdress with the bird stretching its wings as they were referring to the Reptilian Complex that sits atop our brain stem as well as the mammalian Limbic System which brings the emotional aspect in. These days we are ruled by these two as the first one says “Kill or be killed” as the second chimes in “Whats in it for me?”. These two run the silent programs that are vocalized in most peoples heads and this deal can adapt to any circumstance, real well. Its why comments sections read as they do and why people front on the socialist mediums as they run around image building. And yet, you buy in. Of course you did. The System trained this and its why you vote for pointless politicians who are just congressional call-girls for the money men and do whatever they request after you’ve pledged your acceptance. The ladies are dirty and yet people can’t wait to start dancing. Such is the deal when the entire race is a stranger to Self as they’ll buy whatever the other is shoveling as long as it offers them hope, protection or absolution.

Ironically this all springs from within but most will never have a clue about it because their sense of disconnection is all encompassing. To them their true nature is not only baffling but offensive and thus kept at arms length. Inner Sense is not something they’ll ever imperience whilst living but why must they die to get it? Even then they’ll be born again and forget it for the next spin as they buy into the narrative on another trip in this realm.

We knew they were coming before we’d seen them and stepped out with gifts of food, flowers and fresh beverages to drink as we knew the lands surrounding our kingdom were quite wild and isolating. We had no idea who they were, or from where they came. Visitors were quite rare as we had everything we needed within our place but due to the conquering of the “Little I” in our heads we were far more attuned to the collective and thus felt the resonance of those approaching. We smiled and waved at them as we took in their lighter skin and blue eyes. This was something we’d never seen and it looked so unique and, caught up in the mix, we didn’t even notice that their faces were grim and looks ferocious. That came to an end when the first axe swung split ones head and suddenly blood was flowing and it became obvious they came not to accept gifts but to claim the lands we felt were our own personal Eden.

Now, before you zip off and call me a pseudo historical racist please recollect that I’m sharing tales of my imperiences as dictated via Inner Sense. The amazing thing about this state is that its constant beyond all races, time and space as well, along with all the dimensions as well. Once you’ve stepped into its stream you’ll see what I mean. In contrast Adulteration follows one blueprint – disconnection and then pretending this never happened – and creates a generic yet individual space inside ones head I call the Mind Made Prison. From within this its easy to discount what I’ve said as fiction but the simple fact of the matter is I lived this and know fine well of what I’m speaking as these events laid the foundations for what was to come and the world we’re living in at this moment. Don’t you think its strange that the White race can’t wait to jet to outer space and is already laying claim to Mars as its new home? Stop and consider that these folks all spring from one glitch around six to ten thousand years ago that birthed the first human who switched off melanin to create lighter eyes and skin then ponder the resonance between these forms ill adapted to Earth (where too much sun can kill them) and how they are perfect for a colder climate on a planet distant. Then feel free to sprinkle in the fact that every single culture across time has called Mars the red and warlike planet and compare that with the historical exploits and nature of these people when it comes to “civilizing” the worlds indigenous with violence and scriptures and it might leave you wondering. Its all scripted.

For us, it was literally the end of the world. Things were never the same again after these invaders moved in and set up encampment but this wasn’t the first time they were ejected… Those who survived and watched from a distance noticed that their energy systems were highly imbalanced and like nothing they’d ever Witnessed. “Its like all of the power that should run from chest to head has been disconnected and rerouted to their abdomen instead. They must feel the grips of a terrible emptiness and yet will not allow themselves to see it. Poor wretch” said the Shaman of the old village as he surveyed the wreckage and noted the passage of the stars overhead. “This too” he added “Was predicted because the ages shift from one to the next but no one wants to be the bearer of bad news and thus we try and avoid it by passing it on to the next generation who do the same thing. In many ways we all are fallen. The blue eyes just made it obvious as they’ll rebuild the world in their image due to the new altar at which they’re praying”.

Did you get it? “Alter” as in what sits between “Control” and “Delete”. Ah, the Game is a wheeze! Sprinkle in a serving of fresh silicon being stitched to old carbon to birth Techno Sapiens and you can probably guess the upswing for the next Thirteen thousand till we’re back in Eden, the training wheels are ejected as we get to flying before sinking again… During all of this the hackers will be hacking as that too is a constant for some of us are born to do this and it matters not the stage of the Game we’re playing as we’ll Game the System to peek at the code of the Matrix. Getting back to the present moment we’re unwrapping:

If you ever read the Hindu scriptures and related fables they tell a tale of a culture that was quite different to what we expect but is heavily repped in the “fictional” realm, just ask Lucas and the rest. In many ways it seems backwards due to the strict caste system which says who does what, where and when but in others extremely high tech as they talk of far off planets like they are intimately acquainted with them at the molecular level. For example, Jupiter is know by them as being large, gold and abundant whereas Saturn is contrasted as thin, dark and walking with a limp. Both were drawn using a form you know well as the hexagon at this moment and that is whats formed via their orbits so how on Earth did these apparent primitives guess there was a black square dancing on the pole of the planet back then? Not just that but their allegorical dress hides all kinds of wisdom but this, once again, is for those with the eyes to see it. In that respect the tale of Jesus continues this tradition as its always astro-theologically underpinned once you remove the narrative. Ultimately we all speak the same language and its why those attuned with Inner Sense can push the pen and write something like this, back when, which describes our modern world so well:

“The lowest instincts will spur the men who will prefer to choose false ideals whilst killing righteousness dead. Tormented by desires, fueled by fear they will mislead as they themselves are mislead. Many will perish. The working classes will like to think themselves regal as they are enamored with the image whilst lacking the content within to truly accord themselves in alignment with this. Heroes will be killed as are fetuses in the wombs of their mothers and in both cases no one blinks an eyelid to the happenings. Thieves will become kings and kings shall be thieves. The people are envious, trust wears thin, everyone is out for themselves and all the pleasure they can get with no thought of consequence. The degradation of virtue and hypocritical censorship shall mark the coming end of this cycle and its grip upon the minds of men and their awareness dimmed by this phase of existence”.

Paraphrased, of course, but quite accurate, yes? Granted you could apply this text to any space of time and claim it would fit but its what comes next thats most interesting as they predict a shift between the old world order and new way of doing things. I firmly believe we will live to see this intermission as its happening all around us. In many ways these stages of the Game seem to be ordained in order to create a type of awareness which causes a few to sift the wheat from the chaff (or Adulteration from Inner Sense, if you’re gluten intolerant) and those I know number at 8% of the populace and its to them I’m speaking. The rest are welcome to list but the question is what do you perceive if I point a digit at the moon? A luminary which aims to make you think or do you think I’m giving you the finger in disrespect due to not seeing the whole thing and dealing with projection vs what actually is.

In many ways this is a struggle we all deal with and it happens on our own terms, in our own existence. This is why I’ve never voted and never will because I feel I’m responsible for everything as it all plays out inside my awareness ergo the aspects of me that wish to be false and reigning instead of Inner Sense are internally dealt with so that aspect of what you call life simply bears no effect. Consider this:

If the entire world stopped voting and turned their awareness within instead how long do you think the farce of all of this would stand, unassisted? That makes it all entirely obvious, yes? After all, we live in a time where wisdom is presented as entertainment and the flip is accepted as gospel without question as people scramble to get ahead by gladly stepping on the rest as that which was man-kind is now racing like rats in behavioral sink. A truth that is as Self evident as it is seductive so that only few manage to catch themselves and comprehend what I said as they believe power resides elsewhen…

Sometimes I do wonder what the point in sharing this is because the scam is obviously as effective as the ignorance is infectious ergo gnosis is seen with resentment as people, long ago, accepted anothers perspective as their own mode of operation but never, ever stopped to question if off the peg fits actually feel as nice as something that was custom tailored for them and their awareness? In many ways that the outline of the sketch hence why, I suspect, so few choose to awaken as they’re firmly convinced they’re doing it big as they sprint along a treadmill with some VR specs on their heads…

All I want to do is rule the world and, by that, I mean be the King of my dome. I neither wish nor claim any power over y’all because, in the end, you’re figments of my imagination and this is what we’ve been made to forget along with the principle of resonance hence why, back when, we met with palms clasped at chest with bowed heads as one recognized the glow within me is the same as thee ergo we are both expressions of the same divinity. Now they say that the flesh creates consciousness whilst, simultaneously, calling it the “Hard Problem” that defies explanation when a simple thought imperiment can prove my view correct when I suggest you’re an immortal wearing flesh:

Pretend not existing.

Really invest in this, my friend. Play out all of the variables and schemes that dwell within to make it happen. Eventually you’ll note, with glee, that no matter what you do or don’t perceive there is something observing, Psylently. Its what you use to see and be as its the key to unlocking the illusion of reality as it is thee and thou are it but its also a gift from the Prime who pre-exists and thats where it gets quite mind boggling as all of the above I’ve said makes perfect sense as there are but a handful of variables that have their arrangement shifted to create the song of existence in the same way that a piano has a limited range of octaves that say the same things with a different pitch and yet can churn out a virtually endless range of hits via the composition that springs, you guessed it, from the mind of the one playing.

Its a Yin/Yang thing, in the end, and thus its all playing out as intended which also extends to me writing this missive from the days of back when and you reading it in the present moment so it is what it is:

A figment of your imagination. Nothing more, nothing less. We start, like the womb, in a state of intense unification and from this paradise we’re ejected but, back when, it was into a darkened tent and water birth to your mothers grip as old maidens sat, singing, songs of power and welcome to a fresh essence in the flesh but that shifted into modern docs, brightly lit, pain stinging and the rest you know well before this too segues into state ordained reproduction in lab conditions as it picks who and when gets to link, with genes remixed, but it won’t matter as people will be beautiful, pseudo immortal and constantly sexing – whether in the flesh or with a hybrid companion – as they’re set adrift on low level psychedelic bliss via the tech implanted in whereas, back when, they maintained these states of resonance via singing and dancing and reproduction was guided by the village Shaman who saw what was needed to keep his ecosystem in balance and thus spoke with his counterpart, elsewhen, hence part reason for the caste system as fighters beget the same whilst poets spring from lineages more sensitive and he was aware enough to know what was needed, as and when, as pairings were spiritually picked for optimal balance as each household functioned like a cell in a coherent ecosystem. Contrast that to the modern world and you’ll comprehend why most place their power outside of themselves as its designed to be a mess as we’re at the lowest ebb where matter matters most and spirit is an afterthought hence such surface level thinking and the low resolution mindset it begets.

Its like I said in the other thread but this offers a greater perspective as the first was penned from the view of the human, lost in ignorance, whereas this is from the birds eye lens who sees the lower aspects past, present and future in a glimpse. Make of it what you will but time will prove me correct as its a Game of three halves and its whats hid in the mid between the black and white thinking that can up your res when you become aware of what kicks and who, exactly, is hiding behind the curtain. But, thats another topic as the aim of this is to just to share how if you aren’t in charge of your own head then expect the world it builds to be a mess hence response-ability is free will so flex that muscle and shift your resonance back into the state of being Centered in Self as its no measure of health to be well adjusted to such profound social sickness.

Otherwise its just a ride and that too is fine because not everyone wants to know the how, where, when, what, why that went into its design but I do so it is what it is.

Deal with it. You are responsible for your own feelings, thoughts and observations on each level of the Game and doesn’t this illustrate, so well, that Slaves give away their power and then complain about where they’re lead whereas the Warrior is an alchemist that turns the hot coals of ignorance into shining diamonds of wisdom instead. I say all of that to say this:

The ones who could use this power the best don’t want it whereas those who thirst for it will only ever twist it to their own benefit and, in the end, its the strength of those beneath them they’re manipulating hence they get what the expect as they’re complicit in their own oppression which is mad ironic if you consider cargo cults and BS in respect of what I said about the day the sky fell and its lasting impressions upon modern men.

Do the Knowledge, my friend. You’ll soon comprehend they’re all actors and this opens up another chamber of awareness, long dimmed, as you click the shadows depth an find the eternal source of illumination hidden, therein as you are all of this and none, in the same instance. Such is the power of consciousness as, without it, this world doesn’t exist.

Till we meet again

It may seem quite obvious to state that you are not your thoughts or feelings but I don’t mean this in some airy fairy kind of way as the fruits of this labor are immensely practical and exceedingly helpful when it comes to navigating this earthbound maze that is the Game we play by inserting our Souls as credits. It takes a certain amount of detachment to not be lulled in via the siren song the senses sing as they paint their idea of reality inside your head and attempt to tell your awareness “This is what it is“. So many accept this false premise because the illusion is as seductive as it seems constant so they Thunk “Might as well, after all everyone else indulges” and thus begins their route to suffering.

I want you to look back over your life and tell me if its correct that when I say that the vast majority of your fears and dreads simply didn’t happen. Neither were they worth the stress, in retrospect, or the immense emotional investment you willingly threw at them. And yet, even knowing this, you’ll keep on doing the exact same now and in the future as well. Would it help if I told you you were actually riding a rollercoaster and attempting to hold on too tight with your eyes closed tight actually is the problem because you should just let go and enjoy what comes in the moment as then it clicks that it was designed for exhilaration.

People are walking around with Stone Age wetware in their heads and wondering why the results they get aren’t what they wanted. The Game has changed and due to neuroplastic magic you can upgrade your paradigm, if you wish. The Path of Power remains constant throughout all ages, stages and phases because its the solid stick of truth upon which the candy floss of existence rests. Sure the rest may be seductive on the lips and that basic fundamental often gets little consideration but that is why so many are miserable and enlightenment is difficult for those not willing to relinquish their grip on the world they expect. In that respect your wish is fulfilled in each moment because you are the co-creator of this realm, not just a sideline participant, therefore your power and responsibility are immense.

Nature abhors a vacuum. Each child steps in as the Queen of King of their dome with their glowing radiance which is full of coherence and extends through and beyond this realm with a presence that is effortless. The System does what its thing and they are reduced to serfing and the ambivalence this brings because one part of them hates this falsity but the other feels like its drowning due to not wanting to think of this schism and it holds to the brick it was given by the world and their parents. If only they could let go. Their arms and legs would automatically start to swim as they saw through the illusion and got back to the beach from where they could choose to take a dip. In the same instance it would become obvious what was living through them in their absence and thus rendering them less than human and more akin to a partially sentient meat puppet.

These strings I call hooks are based on emotional events. Those who know me well will already be aware of the paradigm where they take a tiny amount of sugar and whip it into a seemingly immense and all encompassing substance that is designed to consume you via your consumption as you ignore the fact that you are none of this but what its built around but for those that are new lets pretend for a moment that sweet treats could speak:

The candy floss looks around at others just like it and thinks “Oh, I’m not as fluffy as she is“. “Look at his density, its impressive”. “No wonder they’re rich and famous. I’ll never be anything, whats the point in all of this” and starts eating away at their own potential as a way of staving off this train of thought and its inevitable destination. They’ll try anything. A new product promises it can whip them into shape and make them feel like more, once again. Of course it doesn’t work. Some of the floss has its own hue and there are many shades as well. They attempt to tweak and fix this by spraying some additives or trying risky things to remove what is present. In general the land of sentient candy floss is quite miserable because not only must they contend with all of this but they are dwelling in a realm that is filled with thorns made of darkness and they are told to sprint around in the forest with eyes closed as well.

Yes, as I’m sure you can imagine they are all quite stressed and thus coping mechs are through the roof as well as discontent. They blame everyone but themselves as they front and pretend that life is heaven when it truly feels like hell. This season of discontent never seems to end until they meet their death with its promises of salvation where they will become as large and fluffy as they wish in whatever hue they picked whilst they intermingle with those who left and only toothpicks exist to remember them. “Thats a very elegant trick” says the village weirdo who chose long ago to stand perfectly still.

The rest of them thought he’d finally flipped his lid because he hadn’t been screwed too tight since a kid as he did some pretty crazy things. In that respect he was on brand, at least, but some people got him and stopped to listen. He’d rooted his stick firmly in the ground. In such a way that he felt it. A deep sense of connection he wasn’t even aware he’d been missing until that moment. “Mother truly is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children” he thinks as he relinquishes and surrenders into the moment. People outside say “This nuisance is an idiot. Can’t he see we’re trying to get from A – Z? Pathetic” as they hurtle around him with closed eyelids while the thorns of darkness hook bits of their glow for their own sustenance.

He is concerned with none of this. Neither does he care what the others think because the truth of the matter is they don’t. “Drunk on Thunking” he smiles within as he feels the sense of his energetics aligning with a higher state of resonance which is, contradictorily, beneath him. As his presence expands it clicks that it is also all around, above, outside and within. “Of course” sings his intuition as he remembers his original incarnation in the forest before the tree was chopped, machined and dipped in this sugary coating and thrust into a world of illusion.

On the outside it looks like he is withering. Some of the townspeople think “Good, hopefully he’ll soon be dead” with a level of vehemence they can’t truly conceptualize as he never did anything that bad to them but, for some reason, they hate him nonetheless. Others are more curious because while everyone else runs that way and this as they get ripped to shreds by the consuming darkness that dims the fluffy glow thats around them he simply stands still. Inside all of this is irrelevant. He certainly feelsees them because he is in resonance with his original spirit which is neither the floss nor the stick as that is but a tiny aspect of his true magnificence. He remembers the forest. The other realm. Their place of origin and just like the act of his sinking into the moment back when allowed him to expand into that which sustains him but was hitherto invisible he finds this new expanded awareness causes his vibration to spiral as he makes his ascent up through the material plane and information pours in.

Needless to say the process is mind blowing but as he is coming to life within to the outside world it seems like he is dying as that which they know as skin is growing exceedingly thin. There are a few bits of fluff stuck to his stick and people laugh at this fool who is willingly doing such dumb things. “Doesn’t he know we’re supposed to run from A -Z? That will make our floss all shiny and luxurious” say a couple as they run past him, never stopping to think how they are aware of this when they have closed eyelids.

What they don’t click and he did is that the stuff of fluff is of this realm and at its base is a simple sugar that was whipped. Why? Why the thorns, my friend, they need you live so they can feed upon your death and that is the trick because time gives birth to that which it will kill to sustain itself. Obviously they aren’t supposed to know this but its always an option because, secretly, each stick recollects the day the tree they call home was felled and they were chopped into pieces. This resonance causes them to meet others like old friends as well as ones they detested because they felt they stole resources from them. Looks like the later habits often have earlier origins and not all are totally equal in that respect.

“What an interesting premise” the nearly worn away stick thinks as he takes in these vistas which are unfolding within his vision. “The same, yet different. Time and time again. Complementary, yet opposite” as the alternation of black and white which built this realm gives way to the silent gold within the mid of which these opposites are built. Looking down from this vantage he sees the forest of illusion as a construct within which they were placed because its not natural in any way. Actually its entirely fabricated much like, lets say, a Hollywood lot can be made to seem like anything via camera tricks, editing and forced perspective. “This tiny, teeming slice of nature is actually a blip in an abyss of concrete and cement” he thinks as he takes it all in. The nature of the thorns also becomes evident and why its vital that no one ever sees them (although they notice, nonetheless). He sees how this invisible enemy plays its tricks and causes them to rail against their fellow sentients as they blame each other for whats missing when in reality its whats consuming them without their awareness. Add in the fact that when the stick is stressed it nibbles from the airy glucose surrounding it and how anything from the outside is worthless in changing the cause of the effect which is them, in and beyond this realm.

On one side he sees the forest of illusion as a stream of time that is entirely static. Only by doing the same himself, instead of running from A to Z as instructed, does this become obvious as he instigated the resonance which he intuitively felt was lacking after so long of doing what they said and not getting anything of worth accomplished. As his mental essence is now free from such concepts as the race they were running, the nature of what is wrapped around the stick and all the other worries and stress he sees various bits and pieces of himself and his existence stuck to thorns here and there. He thanks them for keeping these elements safe for him and rewinds through his life and calls back his essence. Outside something strange is happening because he has stood still for so long that there was nothing but a stick left. For all intents and purposes he was dead and people had began to accept his presence as a monument to foolishness when suddenly it developed a wisp of radiance. Just the merest hint of candy floss seemed to be budding. Except it wasn’t.

Via a process alchemical a new life was surging within and that floss that knew he wasn’t and went searching for answers now stood in the forest as a tree again and thus revealed his true nature as the leaves were budding all around him. “There is nothing I need to take but so much for me to give” he thinks to himself about this Journey within he’d undertaken by upgrading his paradigm.

See, we are the trees (in essence). You can call the candy floss your life and all its trappings as well as what you think, fear or dread along with all the stress which comes and shifts as you leap from one problem to the next. The thorns are akin to the intent which created the Game for profit as its all about extraction via discontent as this is what makes one seek the answers by formulating the best questions and thus the stick is the flesh which is the greatest illusion as it seems to be alive but is actually a dead and disconnected fragment of its original magnificence. Everybody feels this, few dare admit it and lesser still wish to become more and are willing to stand still in the moment as they unwrap the gift of the present and see through the illusion as they transcend the world that was pulled over their lids since the moment they stepped in.

So, who are you? The candy floss full of stress and worries of depletion that is concerned mainly with how much it can get and whats in it for them or the stick that sustains it and is the true key to wisdom because it leads the way in and out of this realm and thus is what they’re truly seeking in this Game we’re playing by inserting our Souls as credits to generate the imperience of separation and potential for growth this brings.

You too can experience this, if you wish, but in my travels I’d say that only 8% of the populace are truly willing and able to handle this because a) its so different than what they’ve been programmed, b) they’re scared of looking stupid and c) the forest taught them to floss in order to keep the thorns fed via stress and “Nobody ever mentioned a thing about standing still and all the rest of this crazy talk isn’t appealing NA NA NA NA NA I can’t hear you!” they yell as they push wisps of candy floss into the stick to prevent the information gaining access as the world as it is causes enough stress and the thought things may be different creates a huge sense of foreboding that causes them to run even faster from A -Z.

You are not your thoughts or feelings any more than the tree that was felled, edited and processed before being dipped in a sugary mix that had been whipped up to look massive. In that respect the stick is a state I call the Witness. Note I said state, not label. We are not interested in the finger pointing at the moon but the luminary itself that grants vision as that is but a reflection of a higher, brighter principle that is the true source of radiance. Once this clicks then its akin to your eyes opening and some pain is often felt at this because you’ve had them tightly closed your entire existence as the world and its thorns rips away the best for itself and you feel hooks in your head that draw you back to keep repeating these events and you don’t see the links.

How many times have you let your worries and fears lead you on a merry dance as you react in ways bad and then life hands you the bill for your decisions. We all have that friend who is the definition of chill and rides life as it is without stress or caring. He cannot often explains how he does this as its standard equipment but often they aren’t too caught up in flossing as they automatically intuit the outline of the Game and choose another way to play it. On the flip we have those who send the image of being rich and successful as they have stapled on huge chunks of this sticky substance that is not (and never will be) them but as long as people buy into the illusion they too can pretend they are what they project. This is whom you wish to keep up with in the forest of illusion? Make better choices.

Start inside your head. The next time this floss whips your neurons take a moment, breathe in via your nasal with depth for a count of four, hold for seven and then exhale eight through your lips as your tongue rests on the surface of the cavern behind them and completes the energetic circuit which links heart and mind in an instant. You may wish to do it a few more times until you create a new state within I call Centered in Self and then you’ll start to realize “I am the stick. The Witness. The ever present, the unchanging, the eternal and unfinite that causes all manifestation“.

Once you can do this you’ll be able to choose what thoughts to invest in and thus are no longer shackled into the state I call Slave which 81% of the planet is as their chains jingle and jangle and they can’t wait to trade in the iron for silver then gold again as they brag of the debt they trail behind them. But thats all to come, this is but a taste. Is it right or wrong? I don’t know. Who am I to say? All I know is it works for me and those who listened often report benefits but the vast majority will see the concept as something quite distasteful because the candy floss of thoughts keeps telling the stick “Don’t listen to that idiot. You are this sweet and fluffy substance and the aim is to get as much in so keep running from A to Z because eventually something amazing will happen because you’ll inherit the Earth”. Or so they say. Why not try that whilst living instead of steadily killing your potential via ignorance as this is the new form of human sacrifice that was once limited to a few, now and then. Instead the dark thorns took the model and franchised it as the System poured it into your head as an infant until you became a stranger to your Self and thus are lost in the whirlwind.

Stand still. See what happens. Upgrade your paradigm if you want life to feel different because only you can do this. You are what you’ve been awaiting as well as that which you’re seeking. Can you hear the Psylense?

Till we meet again

Imagine you are born on the edge of a lake. You spend your formative years engaged in play until you, along with the rest of the children, are sent off on your own mission. Your parents have spent their entire life carrying a bundle above their heads that they class as the most sacred. Why? Because their parents told them and theirs before them in an immense link that extends back through their lineage, totally unquestioned. “You are still a child but growing quick” they say as they hand you the bundle. “Take this, hold your breath and walk through this stream to the other side whilst keeping it dry and not letting anything happen to it. This is your life. This is your mission. Once you reach the other side you will beget a child and tell them to do the same. Go, go now” they say.

Being a good, obedient child who is exceedingly impressionable you take this as reasonable. After all, your parents just want the best, its what they did and they turned out pretty well plus all of the other kids are doing it. “Who am I to question this?” you secretly think but won’t ever dare express as you don’t wish to be disconnected from their affection or disappoint their expectations. After all, you are still a child and thus your world revolves around them as it in their direction you glance for affirmation, validation and confirmation about what you’re doing. “So, if they say this is what it is then it must be” you think as you head off on your trip.

The journey is long and arduous. Its lonely as well because you cannot speak to anyone there. Plus you are holding your breath whilst doing your best to navigate all of these obstacles which are slung across the deck as well as the waves that threaten to creep over the bundle you must keep safe, dry and elevated high.

As you progress you grow but the stream does the same. Always ensuring its levels are maintained. Its such a gradual thing that most do not notice but you always were perceptive and cannot help but question, quietly, to yourself, why this is the case. “What is even in this bundle?” you wonder after barely surviving a particularly harrowing experience. “Why is the water so hostile to it? Why am I the one who must handle the thrills and spills as it chills? My shoulders are aching, my feet are sore, my lungs burning and the end is so far off in the distance. Why the hell am I even doing this?” you yell within in a moment of frustration.

Thing is, you’ve been doing it for so long now that you’ve actually got used to it. The tiny sips you exhale from this limited breathing pattern, the obstacles below that can’t wait to rip your legs from beneath you as you step as well as the waves above which creep and always maintain their constant threat as you step from one shore to the next.

Eventually, you make it. You look around and see that what stepped in as Inner Sense is now on the other side and Adulterated by the imperience. Their toil, pain and suffering remains unquestioned as this is a time of great celebration. Everyone joins in. Partners are picked, relationships cemented and the next generation instructed to lift the bundle, cross the stream, be as we and do as we did without question. For you, this doesn’t cut it. The decades spent underground carrying this weight over your head solidified the position of many who took it as providence and that this was their mission in the flesh. “To not do means we’re infidels. You know what happens to them at death?” said an old childhood friend as you attempted to subtly broach the topic with them. “Why would you ask such questions? Is your faith waning? Look, we made it. As promised” they say with eyes shining at the end of their quest. “Our parents are very proud. Don’t you want to be just like them? From where is all this coming? Why are you talking like this?” is said in worried tones as you artfully deflect and realize you’re on your own with this.

Whilst everyone is running around rutting, celebrating and engaging in the rites as proscribed to prepare the next gen you retire into the distance alone, in order to think and try and make sense. The party is very noisy and thus you end up climbing a hill. The higher you get the quieter it is and thus you begin talking out loud to your Self as you try and make sense of this configuration you were born into and so few question. “Why?” you wonder. “Why is it like this? To what end? Is everyone in the world like this or just those who live on this cursed island?“. Taken aback by your own blasphemous thoughts finally expressed you sense an immense and crushing feeling of guilt weighing down on your chest. The voice in your head calls you all kinds of infidels, a traitor to the old ways, disrespecter of parents along with “Why are you up here anyway? You should be reproducing on the shore, relax, celebrate”. “Why? Why would I do this? To bring another into this long line of ignorance that has never been questioned as they’re born in a state of abundance but then forced to carry these stupid bundles across a lake filled with obstacles that seem designed to test and cause as much discomfort as possible? To what end? Do it all again? And again? And again? How many generations have subscribed to this madness? Why does no one ever question the process? What is the meaning of all of this?” you say as you’re frantically pacing, ranting and raving.

You place the bundle down on the ground and climb up a tree instead.

Up, up you go. You remember being so fond of this experience, back when, and you’d challenge the rest of your tribe to see who could get the highest. “Yes, yes” you think. “When I was young I was interested in flying. I wanted to soar in the skies with the freedom of a bird so I could see great distances and view with a totally new perspective”. Your parents indulged these whims, for a moment, but they were quickly curtailed as those arms you like to flap and imagine were wings were filled, bit by bit, by pieces that would become the bundle. At the time you didn’t question it because its what everyone did but now after having gone through it the idea of begetting a child and then setting them off on the same mission whilst knowing fine well they’d never dare question what was said, even if they felt it was odd, deep within, is akin to a sin. Something you find quite unforgivable. Your bundle brothers and sisters have no such complication. They do as they were told, move as intended and right now are copulating in celebration as you sit alone, high up ahead.

From your current vantage point you notice that there are circles of land with streams in between. “As far as the eye can see…” you said. “Just like Atlantis! I wonder who built this? It must be artificial as its too geometrically perfect to be naturally rendered. That and the water that sinks and rises as you step in. How it seems to meet everyone on their own level. What the hell is this place? Who made it? To what end? And what the hell is inside in the bundle?“.

You clamber down the tree with an intent ferocity as you stride over to the weight you’ve been carrying. On the outside are etched various legends that people recite, verbatim, but no one has ever looked within. Much like a cabbage there are layers of leaves and you remembered how your parents would peel off a sheet or three of their which started your enculturation. As you progressed these outer layers increased, as did the density, and now you stand, fully grown, alone and filled with questions surrounding this mystery of iniquity which says “Forget your life, carry me”.

You feel immense pangs of guilt for even daring to think this as well as huge amount of disrespect for being the first of your line to question these traditions as the legends tell stories of your people who have been keeping these bundles safe as they step into the lake of treachery, one generation after the next. But you are different. That will to know, that glow of Inner Sense, simply cannot accept without question. “After all” you said. “If this is how I am and was made then it is as intended” but you cannot help but wonder if its you thats defective as no one else thinks like this. Down below the celebrations are winding down but up above your quest for gnosis is revving.

Tearing off the external sheets off this etheric cabbage you notice pages within written in the hand of your parents. Your mother says “Why must I send my son off into this ocean carrying this baggage? He deserves to play, engage and run free with the rest”. Surprised you keep reading as your father writes on another leaf “I wonder what is within this bundle? It was once small, now immense. I’m scared to look within and even more frightened to question. What would the rest of my people think? Surely they would scream “infidel” and that would not be good so let us never think this again”.

Tears are streaming down your face as you take this in. You start voraciously reading and discover so many unexpressed sentiments, emotions and perspectives with which you find a huge resonance as you discover you’ve been carrying (and indirectly venerating) your ancestors sufferings and lives unexamined as they too slotted into the script which says “My child, we are the chosen, take this bundle and carry it across the ocean. Read the outside, memorize it well then pass it onto your descendants so they can do as we did. Keep up the tradition. Carry this over your head”.

Shaken to the core, in the literal and metaphysical sense, you are now sans bundle. Curiously, you noticed that each page vanished after you’d examined it and as this weight you’d been carrying for so long evaporated you became aware of a simultaneous easing of a pressure on your chest that you weren’t even conscious of before making your ascent. At some point the levee breaks and you are awash with emotion. A torrential downpour of the suppressed pain and suffering from all those lives lived which exist still as the blood in your veins is streaming from your eyes as you are wracked with the intensity of being the one who sees what they dared not perceive.

Down below in the valley someone had realized you were missing and thus they’d set off in expedition to find the lost member of their tribe. Some of them climbed up the hill and heard your anguished screams from a distance and as they came running their first thoughts that you’d been robbed as your bundle was missing. “There, there. There, there” they say as they attempt to comfort and you gladly accept their affection as your entire world has been torn to shreds as you’ve been developing an inkling of the bigger pic. “Oh, its so horrific. Its horrifying. Why would someone do this?” you say through eyes blurred with pain that had built one generation to the next. They hear but do not innerstand and thus filter your expressions based on their imperience and projections. A search party is sent out with weapons to see who dares disrespect their tradition. “What kind of low life would steal a mans bundle? Its the symbol of our people and the reason for our existence” is said as people of murderous intent are prowling across the plains looking for someone to kill for daring to go against.

Up on the hill you are still a wreck as being the incarnated vent for the sufferings of the long dead is quite an intense experience. Gradually you start snapping back to reality but the box within which they sit and decorate with signs that say “This is the way it is. No questions accepted nor needed, simply carry the bundle and all will be well” no longer hits like it did. You rest and recuperate, trying to get your bearings. Within you are totally conflicted as these are your people. You share customs, a language, traditions and expectations. Through thick and thin they’ve always been there and thus are more like family. This much is obvious as they lavish you with care and attention. Off in the distance you hear a celebratory whooping.

There is a flurry of excitement as the men sent out to extract vengeance come back dragging someone you’ve never met with them. His style of dress, his manner and dialect are all different. “Brother, look. We have found the thief and we shall have vengeance” they said as they flung the badly beaten traveller at your feet. He desperately clutches to his bundle and frantically mumbles what you assume are prayers for deliverance from this wickedness he is facing. “Thats not my bundle” you say, plainly and matter of factly. “Of course it is” says one, with a hint of menace, look he adds whilst pointing at the surface “It says “Treat others as you wish to be treat“. Is that not our legend? Our way of living? Our spiritual instruction when condensed to its purist meaning? Brother, this is your bundle and we shall kill this thief, this infidel who dared go against us. Here, take what is yours” he says as he snatches the weight from the man lying, crying on the deck at such savage treatment.

“How do I tell them what has happened?” you think. “Its obvious the red mist has descended over the eyes of these who went out seeking for vengeance and who is this poor wretch? Wherever did they find him? What am I supposed to do to ensure they don’t harm him for my indiscretions?”. “Give me the knife” you said “And some rope as well. Its between me and him. I will personally deal with this infidel and bring you his head when I am finished. My brothers and sisters, thank you for all your help but it is now time for you to focus your attention on your children. Prepare their bundles, carry on the traditions of our people and send them off into the ocean where they shall step, from one generation to the next”.

Roused by your speech laced with motivation that vibes with their inclinations they depart and leave you and your prey, who lay immobile. Once they have retired back to the beaches you feed your captive, give him something to drink and then make a big show of taking the blade and burying it off in the distance. Knowing that language is only a part of communication you decide to get your point across like this:

Showing him your bare hands which you then bring to join at your chest as you bow your head at your now bemused hostage you gesture from your lips whilst pointing at your chest in order to express this is your story. You start crawling on the floor after drawing a stick outline of man, woman and creation on the dirt. “This is me, back then” you emote to one who is steadily getting drawn in to your performance. You run to grab some of leaves lying nearby as they’ve fell off trees and you create an approximation of a bundle. You point at yours and then his before pantomiming carrying it through the ocean. The man nods in agreement. The dialect is different but he is very familiar with this. “Mission” he says. “Yes, yes” you nod your head in agreement whilst pointing at your chest and replying “Chosen”. Suddenly the Rosetta stone starts to spin and both comprehend the similarity beneath the difference.

Eventually you get to the point where he currently sits in shackles. You noticed that when you told him of opening the bundle and reading what was within he said “Disbeliever” and shook his head. “We call those infidel and yes, I guess you can say I am but its what I found within” you said as you furnished the details. With drawings in the dirt of many past generations, all carrying their own bundles filled with suffering to which they remain willfully ignorant you pantomime the feelings of release that came after the wailing and screams you released that you’d been carrying. “You see? You see?” he said hoping that the man in front of him would get what no one in his own tribe could comprehend.

He didn’t get a chance to hear the answer. His throat was slit in a way efficient as his captives tribesmen had also sent out their people as one of their own was missing. Witnesses had stated they’d seen a group of ruffians who were yelling and whooping descend on one of their pilgrims and carry him off into the distance. This tribe was different. They trailed from a distance, observing their land and encampment. When the time was right they struck under the cover of darkness and killed all that were within. All of the men, women and children were slit from ear to ear as they slept by these silent assassins.

Up on the mountaintop to the two men engaged in metaphysical discussions way beyond the sun setting were aware of none of this as the one without a bundle was facing the one tied to a tree who saw perfectly one of his tribesmen coming up behind him with murderous intent.

“My brother” he says as he embraces his kin and hands him his bundle. “Look, in your honor, for the glory of our creator we killed these disbelievers“. “Infidels” he says. “Primitive, brutal savages. You know what he said?” he states as he starts regaling the tale to his friends and shows them the blade that was buried off in the distance.

But that was then. This is now. Whats in your bundle? The single most liberating step in this realm was releasing my energetics from this shackle of mess that, for many, defines their everything as they are so accustomed to its limitations that to live without is beyond them. This is, in many ways, one of lifes ultimate tests hence why true liberation requires total disconnection which, in a paradoxical flip, brings an immense sense of union with the all of everything you’ll have to feelsee for your Self.

Can you hear the Pyslense?

Till we meet again