willhelp.me

When the lotus has no choice because its either sink on swim on the ocean of filth that is this realm at the present you know its time to shoot from hip with a dead aim at the brain of the Adulterated Opponent within that, via parasitical processes, feasts upon pure Inner Sense. You can only come to your senses by losing the mind they programmed, back when, which is not in your best interests. Stop and think:

If everything inside your head worked, perfect, then your life wouldn’t be a mess. Why can’t you regulate your energetics? Why are you dripping in coping mechs? Why does the voice in your head rage and deny this as it pulls the strings of your awareness as it makes you its puppet in the flesh?

Your mind is behind enemy lines, my friend. Back to the topic:

“Why would you do this? Whats the point in this? If you your Self said that only 8% are capable of comprehending the shadows depth then why bother kicking the ballistics on the web when the margin of misinterpretation is immense and most simply don’t give an F about your feature presentation?”.

I don’t know. Call it a helping hand to a fellow Soul trapped in this realm with no clue about the consequences of wearing flesh as they are constantly recycled from one life to the next with little much changing as they stay plugged in and thus don’t comprehend they aren’t the candle but an aspect of the eternal flame that manifests as their awareness. They say that true compassion springs when one finds enlightenment then plunges back into the darkness to the help the rest find the spark within themselves that the world tries so hard to extinguish so they can sell you lightbulbs instead.

Yeah, thats pretty much how it is because work, buy, consume, die is the blueprint they etched in your awareness and within the grip of this Mind Made Prison people are real comfortable with being uncomfortable hence why they’d try and kill anyone who escaped the Cave and came back to show them the shadowplay on the wall and the fire which teases them is but a poor imitation of what truly is awaiting their Self realization. Really picture this, my friend:

You are born, easy and free. From a young age they train you to sit in a frame that expands as you progress. All you know is the Cave and its filled with children who are taught to “Sit still, look ahead” by one who wishes to claim dominion over them. The longer you listen, the sweeter the pitch until, one fine day, you are staring at the wall upon which some symbols doth flick as you spin a narrative in your head they programmed you with. In this deal do you think people would feel much like square watermelons and think there is something really wrong with this sketch or would they believe the frame and them are one and the same, identical, so if that mad, bad, jit from kindergarten that never, ever sat still and often upended his chair by trying to balance it on two legs as he ran the teachers ragged came charging back in with an axe that he swings at the frame you don’t even notice you’re wearing would you start screaming or say “Thanks for help. I always wanted freedom“.

That, in a nutshell, is what kicks because some Know the sketch and have intuited the deal which pushed them into this underground crypt of illusion and deception that is akin to a living hell so the parasites of consciousness can enjoy the prime real estate of this realm via private access as they have you caught up in their illusion. Obviously they don’t like the Warrior as he rises to the challenge and shakes off their programming that was designed to fit like a second skin as he reclaims his voltage then sets about spreading the message to the rest that are plugged in to the Matrix that placed a cage around them. Thats the Mind Made Prison, my friend, and its why I said that there is no difference between the form of a golden age child and one that steps in to this time of universal degradation aka the war on Inner Sense. The function, however, is a chalk and cheese thing because most people are strangers to their Self and driven to live on the outskirts of their mind where they pay an immense rent to a slum landlord slash pimp that gives not one single solitary F about them as they see you as less than human whilst blaming you for their cruelness you accept out of ignorance.

Tell me, if you had peeped the script what would you do, in this instance? Take a seat a the high table with the rest as you raise an expensive drink for a mission done well as your ark of excess sails across the rivers of time that run red with the blood of the plebs that hold your craft overhead or risk it all on a spin of the cosmic roulette wheel in the hopes some Souls recollect it wasn’t always like this and their true nature is awaiting their awakening before it gets locked in a new version of the cell when silicon and carbon bred to create the new and improved Mind Made Prison as the yuga cycle ascends from man to ubermensch before sinking again. And again. And again. Without beginning, without end. That is the nature of a construction, a program, a System that works via the camera trick of taking your power and placing it outside of Self. No child thinks like this but all of the Adulterated accept this as evident and some will even rage and gnash as the suggestion they are divine is taken as a tantamount to sin as they view themselves as wretched and decrepit. Does a child ever step in not overflowing with radiance? Why does this glow vanish? Better yet, why don’t people notice and question the paradigm? Its because they’re being fed upon by a predator of consciousness that hides in their head and covers its tracks, really well, by projecting its fear of getting caught as the wrapping around the gift of the present moment that hides the best a man can get:

Gnosis.

Don’t leave home without it! Why? Because its your only ticket out of this realm hence the whole “Heart against a feather” thing because if you crave more of that Cave and the imperience it brings then ye shall get. If you don’t you’ll get emotionally blackmailed and or manipulated to go back for another spin as your investments are used against because its all like ink that was spilled on a canvas which, in turn, hides the fact it all springs from a tree which is living, breathing intelligence as it encapsulates the essence of this feature presentation which is a fractal ergo the resolution that I kick is beyond ultra hi def but you need the ears and eyes to decode as opposed to being encoded which hints at the tele/microscope effect I’ve mentioned elsewhen. Anyway:

Bloom or bust. From one life to the next the lotus fights against the elements of filth that surround it and would like nothing less than to choke it to death before it can speak a thing or realize its potential. Time and time again does this symbol takes place and some Souls become increasingly efficient at a process, alchemical, which leads them to comprehend that they are actually the life force, eternal, manifested as the form into an ocean of ignorance ergo this is all akin to an immense Game of Hide and Seek with Self which is a whole nother topic as there are levels to this, where we sit, as its like a clock with a second hand that sticks. Not quite nothing but almost something as well. The mind makes it real though. Thats how powerful it is. Lets pretend the Cave and cage I mentioned were modern VR tech instead. Feelies, lets call them. You go, view a show and for ninety minutes you get to live each kiss, thrill, spill and dump of adrenaline as you view the flick from a first person perspect. During that time of dilation and forced angles it all seems totally authentic but imagine someone steps in and says:

“The Game of Souls has you, my friend”.

And speaks on the nature of emulation via overstimulation of your senses via a script designed to pull you in and its had you in its grip for countless lifetimes which you’ll swear up and down are authentic because you never disconnected from their dream like logic and constant barrage of suggestions which said:

“Pay no heed to the man who speaks on the man behind the curtain and his intent. This is life. Its your life. Its real and authentic. Kill that infidel for even daring to suggest what you believe isn’t correct and don’t forget to spend, spend, spend every shred of attention you possess anywhere but on your Self”.

What would you do next? If you, as one of the 8%, said:

“OK, lets reality test. I’ll sit here and close my eyes because if this is really real and not some type of high tech hallucination then I should be able to exercise complete control over it, yes?”.

Swiftly he would discover many aspects, outside and within, that keep prompting his movement as the script is waiting. Lets say he overcomes this but the feature comes to an end. When he is next plugged in there will be a nagging splinter in his awareness that makes him reluctant to commit. “No problem” the architect thinks as he sits, directing, and unleashes events horrific and traumatic in your script so you dare not glimpse within.

“Perfect” he says, rubbing his palms with an evil grin as he knows the mileage on this hoe will keep him and his fed, real well, as they bask in the sun, on the surface, as you’re locked in the Cave of ignorance which is their feature presentation aka the psychosocial treadmill.

Bloom or bust? That is the question because the Game is about to shift into another octave of its heaven sent mission of raising hell and March Twenty Twenty Fifth will see a whole load of plus sized, generously equipped, body positive models get to warbling for a bunch of chickens that come home, roosting, sitting on eggs of boosted consciousness and its these hatchlings that will be tossed into the drink holding a brick of ignorance as they try hard to sink, not swim, that the beast will tempt with its silicon augmentation that already primed their parents with the whole “Siri is the apple of my eye” sweet talking as so few of them clicked this spells iris when flipped as that is exactly where she intends to sit as she makes androids of men.

And yet, none dare call it conspiracy. But it is.

Bloom or bust, playa. Thats the credo for Twenty Twenty Fifth as per the script hence the lotus of my awareness is blossoming in resonance with the all of everything that is the Prime, the pre-existing of which I am an aspect made flesh in this realm at the moment to share this message:

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Till we meet again

“I’d rather be anyone but me” she said, after a few drinks. That is, usually, when the truth begins to slip from most peoples lips as the guards of their defense mechs start catching Zs and the underground rebellion they suppress makes its way to the surface. That was actually one of the first things she said, back when, not long after we’d met and started talking:

“You know you’re really, really strange? Don’t you? Like, no “Hi, how are you” small talk or even introducing your Self. Nope. You just come stomping in with Soul probing questions that I’m quite certain most would feel uncomfortable even considering, let alone answering”.

“And yet, you did. I’ve learned to pick my targets quite well. Call it a sense of resonance, intuition or what you will. I can tell in an instant who’ll be receptive as I’m simply talking to their energetics but as the other night shows its a pretty simple skill as you just speak from the chest and the rest falls in“.

“How on earth did you get to be like this? I mean, its obviously not factory settings so there must be some stuff behind the scenes that went into the making of thee. I’m intrigued with what this is”.

“I fully and unconditionally accept my Self. I guess thats the secret, if anything”. With a glum look and eyes that slightly dimmed she said:

“I’d rather be anyone but me” and then caught herself as her hand raised to her lips to prevent another spill of what she’d kept wound up within. “I didn’t mean that”.

“Yes you did. You and I both know it. Its ok to hate the (false) self because, in many ways thats the first step to acceptance as one must take in the lay of the land as it is before hoping to make changes“.

“No, I mean I really didn’t mean that. I like who I am. Really I do. Its just the world thats the problem. Or, to be more accurate, most of the men that I’ve met. I’ve got all the things people would term as success. I’m rich, young and attractive. Everything you need to win but I can’t help but feel like a loser, now and then“.

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Keep going”.

“You know, you’re very easy to talk to? Its like I sense something opening within I wasn’t fully aware was closed until we met. Its quite strange, Mr Svengali, and yet you’re stranger still. You feel like a low dose hallucinogen from back when that was the trend but irritatingly addictive as random comments you said keep reverberating around in my head. I mean the revelation that I wasn’t the voice but the one listening. That one was sheer genius. Genius!”

“How hard it is to see what is directly in front of thee if you’ve been trained to miss it. This is why I said that most are little more than flesh puppets that are incapable of decoding the resonance I hit you with, back when”.

“So, you really mean it? Like, one hundred percent? You wouldn’t trade places with anyone else on the planet? Not even if they were super rich, wildly attractive, totally preselected, with the best of everything and a bright future in front of them? Even then you’d choose to be you? A dude who, lets be true, is mooching around the world with barely anything to his name and acting like its all a Game that plays out inside his head? Gosh, even saying it out loud makes me smile on occasion as it sounds so… schizophrenic and yet I look at the world and the psychosocial treadmill effect and realize thats actually outsane. Just like I said, these snapshots reverberate in my brain as you can’t unsee the wires life tried so hard to hide on its meat marrionettes. Is it lonely? I mean, being a rebel misfit that says off the walls things and is more familiar with death and unrest than standard existence?”.

“In a sense, yes, but I learned to comprehend that something has to give and if I’d been dealt the same type of hand as the rest in this multi-sensory casino that floats in the abyss then the end result wouldn’t be this now, would it? After all the ingredients dictate what the chef brings to the table and, in many ways, I was born to be a legend and that tends to bring its own issues to the table as part of the mix”.

“Ha! As humble as always!”.

“Woman, I’m excellent at being modest. Its one of my best strengths and I truly mean this because only the (false) self needs aggrandizement. A diamond Knows it is“.

“Thats why you’re a girls best friend?”.

“You could say this. If they have the resonance. I mean, how many of them comprehend the link between the rock which is dazzling on her finger and the red hot bed they shared before the ring that shifted to a place with a cold chill not long after the celebrations dimmed? Better yet, of them that spread their legs on the side for an old flame, illicit, how many click that they remove the ring before cheating and the commensurate shift in their energetics, now unfrozen?”.

“They don’t. Truly. Most of my friends are married, many of them to an image that is built on a mirage for public consumption. Picture perfect on the outside but hollow within. You know I think you’re correct when you said this is the end of conventional relationships as people want as many slices of cake as they can get and would rather sit in a rotation with a man in demand than one that is devoted to them”.

“Thats the true nature of sex. Men are hopeless romantics dressed as realists whilst women are the flip, ironically. I mean, it makes a lot of sense from the evolutionary lens as having a kid is a commitment and it can tear that svelte frame to ribbons as not many want sloppy seconds, genetically speaking. Then there is the hoe phase to get out, the need for attention and being away from parental supervision which is why higher education is pretty much non stop rutting and excess for most women as anything goes, back then, before the urge to nest kicks in and they’ll usually take what they can get and not who they truly wanted”.

“You describe people like they’re machines sometimes. So cold and clinical. Have you ever killed anyone?”.

“Would it really make a difference? Better yet, lets flip it. Did you know I’ve saved a few lives with random, out of pocket quips, that went on to prevent them offing their switch, later that evening. I guess a lot of heads have my thoughts reverberating in them at opportune moments. Would that even the scales, in the end?”.

“You avoided my question”.

“Yes. I have”.

“What? Dropped a body or talked in riddles?”.

“You already have the answers. I’m just a man with questions. Nothing more needs to be said. I plead the fifth!”.

“Ah! You really are incorrigible! Its like a constant battle of wits. I mean, I like it but hate it as well. I couldn’t imagine living like this. Its just too intense as you’ve literally got no chill and just say things, off rip, without a single, solitary F given. I’m surprised no one has taken umbrage to your flippance”.

“Wavelength, like I said. Most people still have an ember, glowing inside of them. I just show them how to flow and they do the rest because nobody ever expects the Spanish inquisition, yes? Same thing but I’m uplifting Souls instead of suppressing in the name of religion. Some of the most interesting conversations have been with what most would term social rejects. Schizophrenics, murderers, strung out addicts. You know, the kind of people the rest of the world wouldn’t even consider engaging. Wavelength, again. Get in where you fit in. When you come up from the bottom of the barrel you tend to meet some interesting peeps in ascent and Witness the kind of scenes in the flesh others usually see via the safety of a screen and distance”.

“So you have killed someone? Why else would you mention that again plus if thats the type of company you’ve been keeping then it explains a lot of things about a little bit because most sane people avoid those who are dangerous. You know, basic Self preservation? Don’t talk to strangers? That kind of thing?”.

“What would you do if the worst thing that could happen, did? What next? You survived and have two choices. You can either pick up the pieces and try and rearrange them to make sense or you can leave em on the floor and keep it moving as you celebrate being an immortal that walks among common men. There have been so many attempts on my life that I’ve stopped counting and consider them as part of my involution beyond the flesh because a wise magician knows never to pull the same trick on an old audience as someone in the mix will spot what kicks, with a grin. It took a while for me to get it but when it clicked it set the wheels in motion for unconditional Self acceptance to kick in because, sometimes, you’ve got to lose your mind to come to your senses and by that I mean easing the conditioned aspects due to events you can’t predict that truly test your mettle and this is what separates the boys from the men. Case in point, the hypothetical trade you envisioned with the grade A specimen?”.

She nodded her head and raised her drink to her lips.

“Do you think he, in any way shape or form, would’ve been battle tested or put in work in the trenches to get where he sits? No and nope. Some of us started so far behind in the race of life that when the rest get to the middle aged spread we’re celebrating finally being in position to sprint from the runners blocks which is akin to living twice at the same time with the “If I knew then what I do now” mindset in which everything is a win because failure is seen as feedback and the bricks that pave the way to the ultimate win”.

“Which is?”.

“Liberation aka get free or thrive trying“.

“See!” she said as she leapt. “Theres that contradiction again and its infuriating as how can one so full of vim that wishes to live be totally hooked on death as well? It doesn’t make sense as its quite a morbid topic and yet it seems to underpin everything as you can take any conversation to it via a link that makes sense but most never consider at depth”.

“Death is mans best friend. Its more so the fear of death than the act itself that scares most of the plebs. Did you know the ancient Kemetians were obsessed with their final exit from this realm as they spin around the Van Allen belts in transcendence where their heart, filled with desires, was weighed against the feather light Soul that came in. They saw the Game for what it is. Same, I suspect, with the ancient Mayans that just up and vanished from the historical record after building their temples. I think that is going to happen again but thats a deeper topic. Imagine I could flick a switch, this instance, and you started to recollect past lives you’d lived. Nothing grand and flash. No time as the queen of Egypt. Just a random peasant in a Siberian village, back when, eking out an existence with a quick glimpse of singing songs to your kids as you tucked them in to their bed in the one room you possessed and shared with a doting husband before getting up to do it again. And then take this” I said, gesturing around at the plush apartment. “For contrast and mix it in. Spot the difference where you have everything the last spin lacked but also possess none of its inherent richness”.

“Great, now I’m depressed”. We sat in silence until a smile crept on her lips.

“Wait a second. I get it. I get it. So what you’re saying is we keep going round and round again until we get to the point where we’ve had our fill of the flesh with its various juxtapositions in which you’ll never, ever get the full spread in one incarnation as its designed to be seductive like an elevator pitch mixed in with a cliffhanger for each life you get that has you reinserting your Soul as a credit for another go in the Game that makes you forget how good or bad you had it when, in the end, you asked for it. Ha! Thats some twisted genius or a kind of circus attraction designed to trick the plebs into constant respawns which always seem new and fresh but is cleverly designed to keep you consumed by your consumption under the veil of ignorance about whats truly happening beneath the surface where gnosis always was an option“.

“And thats the secret because, eventually, in one of those lives you’ll become Centered in Self and comprehend you are eternal. In, not of this realm. Just visiting and wearing the skin that lets you interact with the Game as you are something far more subtle and powerful. Then, maybe, you too will bounce around at random and get into interesting conversations with people you just met who don’t recollect you knew them, real well, on another spin not matter how many hints you slipped from the first time you linked in the current incarnation“.

Till we meet again

I only speak the truth. Know why? It isn’t for any lofty ideals or holier than thou schtick. Purely practical:

If I didn’t then, by now, I’d have flipped my lid due to the things I’ve seen. Let me give you an example:

You are born, you grow, go to school and such things. As you mature you collect imperiences that shape you inner realms and friends that reinforce external perspectives as well as share times good and grim. Lets pretend that at some point all of them conspire to have you killed. You survive, barely, from this attack, hyperdimensional. What would you do next? Laugh or cry?

Basically you have to reevaluate every single thing you ever thought you knew and that is a really, really good thing because its what is essential for liberation so, in that respect, my teachers did me a solid as get free or thrive trying is the mindset. They also gifted me with an insight into who truly runs the world, the methods they use and to whom they are loyal and this is something that has such an intricate web of lies that are densely woven around it that it suddenly made sense why schizos flip their lids when offered a glimpse of higher realms. Did you know that those folks they can’t wait to cram full of pills the moment they’re sectioned are the only humans on Earth that don’t fall for optical illusions? Let that sink in and it may just click why this article is titled “In a World Full of Liars”…

For me it is not the fact that I live this but moreso the empathy for those who are also thrown in the deep end (with ankle weights) and sank without a trace or were written off as casualties of wars, unseen, using whatever narrative folks accept to keep plodding on their own treadmill. On the one hand its truly mindblowing to peer beyond the veil but, on the flip, its extremely isolating as each step on the Path of Power leads you further and further away from the madness of crowds who were born, running free, on a beach but now dwell in a cave of ignorance they’d rather die than exit. In the midst we find a way, unpaved, strewn with the corpses of those who either wandered on it or were pushed and then perished due to a lack of Knowledge as they were tortured by forces beyond this realm that further alienated them. Even that may have an upside, metaphysically speaking.

I really do think about this at depth because so much about so much now makes perfect sense but the implication of this is that if liberation truly is this difficult the rest don’t stand a chance a hell so maybe its best they Thunk this realm is heaven sent and carry on as intended from one life to the next. I wonder how they feel, being content with the world beamed into their heads and having no desire to reality test by poking and prodding at its limits? Maybe thats the ignorant bliss others mentioned or just testament to how effective the System is as so many accept its whims, without question. Not me though.

I say all that to say this:

Life, at its most basic, is a deception. There is no polite way of telling folks they’ve been had. Took. Hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Led astray. State it out loud to those plugged in expect a violent reaction from the denizens of the Valley of the Plebs because the first rule of any Game or con is to protect your investment and the Opponent in their head will do this, real well, as he issues statements to their consciousness they Thunk is them. Read that back again. Let it sink in to your depths and see if a dulcet tone emotes from your chest in a way thats soundlesly powerful as it says:

“He’s right, you know?”.

Take the Observer Effect, mix it in with a pinch of atoms being mostly empty space and the fact that you can tell, ten times out of ten, when someone is staring at you as they bore holes in the back of your head and you’ll stop sipping the poisoned chalice of illusion that has you under its spell because the next conclusion that kicks says:

“At night, when I’m dreaming, my mind creates worlds that seem so real and authentic. Why, if it wasn’t for the fact that I rise in bed and am slowly flooded with recollections of another life I live I could be set adrift on memory bliss, without end. If, into this land of illusion, a man did step then said:

“The Game of Souls has you, my friend”.

Would I chastise or yell at him or offer thanks for the help I didn’t know I needed?”.

That is the 8 billion Soul question. Consciousness is everything. You, me, that rock on the pavement and everything in between. This entire dimension and all within are simply figments of your imagination. For some, reading, it would have clicked why school divorced you from this super power, real quick, because, back when, you could throw some sprinkles on a cardboard box and, quite literally, jet to the moon if you wished and it all felt real and visceral. If you could be super, duper rich or have that faculty back online again, which one would you pick? Better yet how about immense wealth or total fearlessness? See what I mean about the parasite of consciousness that is beasting as he feasts on the Inner Sense of the planet and then sells them back an Adulterated (false) self they’ll protect to the death as to face the truth would be akin to admitting the deception that their pride won’t let them stomach. Thats the nature of the trick that is so old and so immense that it holds billions of Souls within its grip at this moment.

The rest are too busy filling their stomachs and appetites that won’t end as we live in times of universal greed which is super ironic as man is both richer and poorer than he’s ever been in the same instance. In between both of these poles (or any others you can mention) you’ll find the golden circle of the present moment that all were born in but only 8% are capable of returning to whilst living. I, for the above mentioned, am one of them thanks to a little help from old friends who I now recollect I have known for many incarnations hence why they were present all around from the time I stepped in to the present moment where I’ve hopped off a jet, in lands distant, and have been sequentially met with people reciting a script who know me very well whilst I was nearly ignorant of the double dealing as one can smile and be a villain.

You ever play that Game, back when, where you have a label on your head and everyone else can read it and you’re left guessing? Kind of like that but metaphysical hence why being really real is the only option because its easy to be led astray with deception and theatrics but truth is the antidote to this venom that creates the genesis of an alchemist who takes the base, pumping, and flips it to something golden instead as he ascends from this realm and kicks a little Knowledge to the rest about the true state of play in the Game. This is, I suspect, the reason they don’t overtly like me but, internally, they really want to see me win plus are also sad that I’m leaving this dimension as I ascend in resonance beyond the Three D gravel pit we inhabit via the flesh draped around our awareness to decode a tiny slice of the EM spectrum thats then further edited and flipped to show only what we expect and skip the rest.

Quite literally, all up in my spinal column. A vertebrae invasion, if you will, and the true cause of back pain in this realm as its all spiritual, in the end as well as beginning and during. Old balances must be settled in for the heart against a feather to way correct so watch me do the dance of destruction as I slap the thigh on my left, twice, as an open invitation to the cosmic loan sharks above this realm that created not only the psychosocial treadmill for the 81% but a customized version for the 11% who learn some cheat codes and magick tricks to wield a certain type of influence over the rest. If you trust a liar, who is to blame, in the end? You or them? Ponder this as you live because I am fairly sure you too will one day sit, waxing lyrical, as you comprehend the shadows depth and the true nature of what grifts. Think you’ll make it look as good as this? In many ways the Game I lace will help you as well, in the end, because there is only one way in and one way out of this realm.

How many times did I ask you to parlay? How many times did I invite open discussion as I tried to figure out what the hell kicks in the adventure I’m living? How many times have you noticed that I’ve obscured the provenance and tells of those who stuck the boot in as well as their symbols, rank and file associations in ways akin to an olive branch because I, in no way, shape or form, think I have anywhere close to a hundred percent correct perspective on what is happening and thus like to keep my options open as I rearrange pieces in the darkness whilst a light from a higher realm shines, now and then, to show the lay of the land and true nature of this realm. What do I get in return? Same as the one who was born to cut heads and then chastised for doing this. No wonder he howled at the moon and promised furious anger and terrible vengeance but I get it. Its all scripted. We’re playing parts and on this spin and one can only be cast a Victim if they don’t click that its not how you start but end as you can shift that, real quick, to victor instead as it all takes place inside your awareness.

Some lead with the left, others raise it entirely from the pavement. Behold, the destroyer of worlds, shatter of illusions that, once up a when, was seen as auspicious but then became terrible. Sort of like serpents, yes? Naga please! You mean to tell me that, ages ago when there was naught but melanin in this realm, every single Soul paid homage to the dragon and then – when white men rewrote history in their image – they suddenly became wicked and something to fear and dread? Thats what I mean, dear reader, about being willing to examine at depth that which you accept as gospel. For Slave/Masters in training who truly wish to ascend, that goes double because if you signed a blank contract to gain access because someone else said so then who is to tell what they fill in or the true cost of membership… Especially if all they know and sell is various forms of deception of which this realm is testament because the longer you listen, the sweeter the pitch and thats just how that dire beat us kicks in if you don’t Know the Ledge:

There is one thing that recently came to my attention. Something which caused and immense swell of empathy within when it comes to Slave/Masters and its this:

You too are living hostages. Some are acutely aware of this and quietly champion my efforts as they intuit the shadows depth. What gave it away was your rep I met for the first time in the flesh that let slip (accidentally on purpose?) that he’s been watching my moves with great interest, since back when, and that was quite puzzling until it clicked that your contract to this realm is for sale to the highest bid as whoever claims domination of the age owns your pink slip so even if you Know the real deal within you must simply grin and bare it for the rest as the cosmic clock slowly ticks from one sign to the next…

Yes, this too shall pass but have you ever wondered how far you can truly ascend on the borrowed wings they gift? If you think they’ll make it to the 8th and transcend the serpent nibbling his tale as he spins and we push rocks of ignorance of uphill then I’d say you have another thing coming because liberation, in the end, is a solo sport. Like Bob said, you can’t save your brothers Soul as we ain’t related in any sense and you’ve got to do for Self whilst holding an example to the rest as nothing and no one can grant salvation in this realm unless you’ve done the Knowledge and removed the filth from the milk and allowed the cream to surface that was previously being sipped by the man behind the curtain.

In a world full of deception the involutionary speaks the truth, without fear, because the extra voltage allows the vicious circle to be transcended from within the box of ignorance it was placed as it spirals home, beyond this realm. Can you hear the Psylense? Not yet, I’d bet, but you will because its about to be curtains for the noiZ that plagued this realm and manifested as the voice in the heads of the plebs that don’t comprehend they aren’t that which talks, without end, but the one who listens, in silence. Up your resolution and that goes double for the S/Ms as you are currently running, full belt, on a psychospiritual treadmill whilst looking down at the rest that fell for a similar trick as an overlay in the material realm because if you put your faith in a liar (in whom the truth doesn’t rest) its your fault, in the end as it becomes a camel and eye of the needle thing which is the feather and scale, remixed, as you can either bob your head to the remix with a sample, uncredited, or dig in the crates by doing the Knowledge hence prize truth over all else as its the bedrock and foundation of liberation and thus the counterpoint of illusion that causes this world to exist and we, at the moment, are so far from the truth that to hear it said, out loud, seems strange and alien to the idiocy we accept even though most lives stand as testament that their internal programming is not really that effective. Or maybe it is and thats the entire point as I could be totally incorrect. I am willing to admit this and recalibrate my perspective as new data pours in. Are you?

Till we meet again

Being rich of heart but poor of pocket is something that seems to be hand in glove when it comes to talent. Maybe its the creativity fostered by having to come up with less and still keeping safe the will to make it happen. Maybe its the test to see if you’re willing to betray your Self in order to make it rich by compromising your morals for the appearance of success? Who knows? Maybe its something totally different.

What if we’re all born rich of heart but most never realize it until they’re swindled out of their birth right and sent on a paper chase that tries to fill that aching chasm within. Behind every stellar artist there is always a life of pain. Its something the world has seen again and again and this I call the Diamond Principle as its the pressure that makes them shine as they’re saturated with inner light. Doesn’t mean its going to be an easy ride though because the demons of the past often hitch a ride when it comes to shining bright in a Game designed to get you consumed by your consumption. Warriors, the fix is in therefore watch your step because what I’m telling those within will never dare spill as they manufacture proof for the lies they tell.

Any creative knows well that true inspiration is something which descends as it rises in the same instance to totally envelope your awareness with the gifts that it brings. For me to say I’m writing this feels like taking false credit and this is what propelled me on my quest to separate the Adulterated from Inner Sense as the latter is where the impulse bubbles. Walk with me for a moment:

In the land of the blind the one eyed man is king and that is exactly how the Adulterated gets down in this realm, just as intended because if people are lacking depth perception and a skewed perspective they can be easily manipulated as they can’t sense the difference. Imagine you are walking alone with some special contact lenses in. The left eye sees nothing but darkness and whats so curious is you don’t question this because of what the right is doing. Inside here there is a lens that contains a tint which shifts almost every time you blink. Or it could be constant. The point is its totally random and, most interestingly, each time it flips the script the tint changes not only how you look at the present but past and future as well because its exploiting a process that occurs within. Actually, lets backtrack for a bit:

Lets pretend that inside your head there is a Rolodex which is adorned with color coded labels. Within this spinny thing lies the sum total of your entire existence. Every single thing you’ve ever seen, felt, thought or perceived is stacked up perfectly in a system that is as simple as it is complex. To examine it is quite literally mind blowing as once Witnessed you suddenly realize “Wait a sec, I cannot be any of them so what am I, in and outside the flesh?” as they are akin to hologrammatic negatives that come to life once you shine the light of your awareness in.

Much like Narcissus, who was so enamored with his reflection that the rest of the world grew dim as he feasted his eyes upon himself, we are collectively hypnotized by the voice in our heads (which, if you think about it you cannot be as you’re listening to it ergo are something quite different. This I call the Witness) and the lens placed in our eyes via cultural programming. It doesn’t matter your creed or faith, when you popped into this world in terms of timespace or other such things because this entire stage is built around this premise hence most do not question the standard equipment they possess or these extras placed within.

Since my inception I’ve been what they’d grow to term a hacker. Everyone has seen them. Those jits that take their toys apart (much to their parents chagrin) in order to see how they work and then make something new out of them. I did this since the jump. Without instruction or guidance, just following the Psylense and that innate curiosity that seeks mastery over this realm by peering in to swim beneath the surface. As time progressed the tricks of the trade I’d learned moved from hardware to software and then the human operating system before finally reality itself and this is where the Game of Souls hypothesis took shape.

Do you know what a Reality Tunnel is? You should. You’re in one:

This lens that you aren’t currently aware you’re wearing is quite slick in the sense that its presence makes it invisible as its influence is all pervasive yet so subtle. If you are feeling blue then realize that is simply the tint distracting the Witness as it automatically spins the Rolodex of imperience and draws a narrative created from thoughts, feelings and energies that are resonant. Example:

Jills boyfriend got up and left and her life feels like its a mess as she wanted nothing more than to please him as he was all she ever wanted and needed. He found her externally attractive but her neediness repulsed him as she had the merest sliver of false confidence that masked the train wreck of her inner realm. Jack was a pretty intuitive type and what you’d call a free spirit and due to his penchant for mind expanding experiences he’d grasped the rudiments of higher dimensional perception without truly realizing it. This is what Jill found so attractive in him as he was overflowing with a sense of freedom and quiet rebelliousness and this acceptance was what she had been seeking her entire life.

Her parents were quite strict and demanding. They were not shy in expressing when her actions didn’t please and they backed it up with Bible thumping as they spoke of Hell and her eternal condemnation. Open and frank discussions were simply not welcome to the table of her upbringing so she dared not express them for fear of being cast out of their affection. In short she became a people pleaser and learned to disconnect from her Inner Sense and was swiftly and almost totally Adulterated whilst still in childhood. People noticed and would comment in ways that deepened the schism via compliments – “She is so mature. Isn’t it wonderful? The Holy Spirit is strong in this one!” – as she was gaslighted by the congregation and pressed into a role she wasn’t even sure she wanted.

As all of this was happening (and in an entirely natural and soon to be unconscious process) the Rolodex was filing away imperience. It was encoding all she’d seen so the past would dictate her response in the present which then shaped the future she was building. The girl was fond of singing and dancing. In that sense the Church offered her at least one freedom as she could belt out the notes with passion as the congregation got on its feet and started clapping.

Can you spot the contradiction?

Here the Rolodex is confused as we have something which simultaneously draws her to the bad of falseness to fit in whilst allowing the real to shine forth in a framework that is socially sanctioned. Her parents encouraged this with an admonishment that said “As long as you sing of His glory, and His alone, without a thought of profit then we encourage it”. And so she did. The child star felt her destiny was speaking.

Externally as she was growing into a young woman you could not tell of her extreme loneliness and the things she did to combat this as the adage of “Children should be seen and not heard” was running through her mental programming. She mastered the art of patting her head whilst rubbing her stomach and all kinds of neuromotor skills as well as belting our her scales which allowed her the freedom to express. Lets take a deeper dive and examine via the lens:

Imagine for a moment that her primary coding was in purple. You’ll note this is a combination of blue and red so lets say the former shade encodes all she classes as ickiness whilst the latter is unbridled passion. When she is in her element she is subconsciously spinning the Rolodex to carefully ensure she is coloring in within the lines of what is expected (blue) and what she wants (red). The end result is purple. As she projects so she ingests and the loop spins itself as she is lost in the moment. “Its then I feel totally alive. The rest feels like hell but this is a slice of heaven” she said to Jack, not long after they met.

Jack on the flip had no such restrictions. His primary hue was orange and he’d been raised by what most would call bohemian parents who were very body positive and encouraged all kinds of things. That also meant he was a stranger to boundaries and any form of impulse control as it was all about what felt best in the moment. To say they hit it off would be an understatement as each brings what the other is lacking and both were exceedingly creative.

The problems kicked in when it came to resonance as there was pure contrast but very little in common. Jill hated how unpredictable he was, how we wouldn’t give her the reassurance she was seeking because (in his Rolodex) that is standard equipment and thus most never thank the sun for shining as its taken as part of the deal of living. On the flip he found her rigidity more and more irritating as he was very laissez-faire in the sense that what happens, happens and who cares about the rest. Quite hedonistic in that respect. What a couple they made though as in him she saw rebellion against her parents and the chains they’d placed on her nascent awareness in exchange for affection that was doled out only for compliance. He liked how she looked, stylishly hanging off his limb, exuding class, and how eager she was to please as he trained her in the skills of the pleasure principle as he was all about enjoying as many women as he could get by burying it to the hilt and pushing it to the limit without commitment. Once again, a fundamental difference is she could not overcome her sex shaming parents and believed strongly in bonding for life. With Jack she thought she’d found it and was determined to make it happen.

Problem is the skills in her tool chest were based off her Rolodex imprints which were all manipulative shades of blue. She hated using them because she was perceptive enough to see their effects as well as the feelings these states evoked in her inner realms but she had no other options to convey her message. Blue and orange look quite good but if purple was the hue that drew him in and when he’d sense the “almost but not quiteness” he’d find it quite repulsive as then his lens would amplify and magnify the worst of what she presented.

One day he intuited that she actually exhibited many of the same traits as his mother who had been a lipstick revolutionary in the sense that her colors were simply painted on the surface due to a deep seated need to be accepted and she’d found her comfort zone with his father who was a limitless beam of green who truly lived his lyrics. From that moment on his passions cooled dramatically as he attempted to disconnect as he could tell exactly where this was heading, her motivations to trap him, what she expected and various other bits as the blue shade of his lens started linking little things she did with his past imperience. Suddenly the Pattern was obvious. In that respect he’d broken the spell that many labor under for generations due to faulty programming and an unexamined awareness.

“I can’t take any more of this. Listen, it was fun while it lasted but I’m out. I wish you the best” he said. And with that, he left.

Jill was devastated as she sank to the depths of her own personal hell whilst her lens clicked to the deepest shade of blue she knew and via this hue the Rolodex offered up her strongest fears and dreads. Suddenly her whole life was recast in this new shade and things that didn’t match were excised from the tale. If we were to glance within its was a slow and steady descent in which things started bad and then got gradually worse and worse and worse until this point where she sat and wept, overcome with corrosive emotions and tainted affection. Of course, she didn’t see this as her life, her script and her inheritance of which Jack was simply the icing on the cake and not the content therein as there was plenty she would not allow her Self to think.

She had no one else to turn to but her parents who used this opportunity to sink their claws even further in and frostily welcomed her back under their wing with lots and lots of chastisement. Jack never thought about her again as he was on to the next and took it as a learning imperience but Jill never forgot him as she eked out a miserable existence akin to a bird that sings to forget the sadness of clipped wings as its placed in a cage most ornate and gilded. All for anothers benefit.

There aren’t any happy endings in this because life isn’t that simple. Bad things happen to good people but the moral of the story is about the lens and Rolodex as they shape your perceptions and in many ways create the script that you’re living. What I found via my reverse engineering of consciousness is you can change this by leveraging your awareness via the strength of the Witness (which is who you truly are in and beyond this realm) as it is exceedingly powerful. Just from the outline sketched hastily on the back of a napkin that I waved around in your head over a drink you can start to grasp the rudiments of your inner realm as this process powers everything and its only as rigid as you let it be.

That is where Knowledge of Self kicks in and those who are aware of the process can override the lens. Braver still are the Warriors who are willing to rip it out from behind their eyelid then do the same with the other which caused the hemispheric interference which was hinted at in the text which said the higher state of consciousness was crucified on a hill with two thieves suspended next to him. Then, and only then, can you start to become Centered in Self by lighting the eye within that sees all but only the chosen see it.

All of this may be a totally fresh concept but I’d be willing to bet that your intuition is nodding its head and saying it feels correct. Now, the question is am I wrong for sharing this? For hacking the Matrix and reverse engineering the fundamentals of life itself or am I simply using the talents I stepped in with as we all know a childs curiosity is boundless without limits. In that sense I’m being true to Self and that causes a lot of chagrin as the Slaves (who are the majority at 81% and well programmed to cherish ignorance that generates suffering) will find a lot of what I say quite challenging. The Slave/Masters at 11% despise the fact that I live to tell the tale as they’d rather me long dead as one light shining in the darkness is enough to make the rest question the narrative they’ve been laboring under for generations. The remaining 8% (to whom my words are a beacon which reaches out and calls to them via various mediums) will be grinning and nodding their heads as their hearts shine in resonance as they too, in their own way, have pondered this and drawn their own conclusions about the Game we’re playing using our Souls as credits.

I’d really like to hear this because it all goes back to being rich of heart but poor of pocket. What I possess in spirit I know there are those with plenty in their pockets but null and void below the neck covet and wish to possess. Why? So they can edit, weaponize and profit from it by using it against the rest to enforce their narrative. They create false barriers to entry, various limits to expression and a whole raft of bridges that demand tolls and fealty in order to access what they can give. But what is this really? Fiat currency? Something which is akin to a printed illusion backed by nothing but the belief others pour in to the purported it freedom it brings without realizing its presence signals the truth of their enSlavement? Fame? Acclaim? People saying nice things? How about the lease of spiritual wings that can’t ascend beyond the limits placed on them when they were clipped and dumped in this realm and turned it into a living hell for the plebs? Why would I need this when I can encode my imperience via flicking through the Rolodex and thus the strings of the meat puppet I could’ve been fall by the wayside as I become a true human being exactly what he is, nothing more, nothing less.

Thats freedom and it springs from within. Either you have it or you’re grasping at an approximation which is ultimately anothers toy they let you play with in lieu of you going inside your own chest and discovering its abundance. There is a very powerful sample of the Rolodex example and what I’m speaking of and that is spontaneous healing in which one who was allegedly terminal and at the end intuitively recodes their perception by overpowering the lens which filters their consciousness and reality bends to their whim as they become the living, breathing embodiment of radiant health. The fact that this is well known but rarely studied is proof about what I’ve said as its based on the same principles of color coded resonance and the story we tell ourselves which in turn hints at what I’ve said in regards to think vs Thunk.

The former is natural. The latter a learned bad habit. Knowing this allows you to create better options and thus one whose heart is filled automatically becomes rich everywhere else but those who try the opposite always come up lacking as true freedom is something that comes from within and only you can grant your Self.

Till we meet again

You’re better off alone than being surrounded by low frequency people. How can you tell who is high and who is low? Simple. Their habits, lifestyle and the way they treat themselves tells you all you need to know.

See, someone smart can play dumb but the reverse is impossible so everything finds its own level. The thing about playing in the dirt is that it can be fun, wild and uninhibited but all these come with their own consequences as these people, by their very nature. live for today and have no thought of consequence as its all viewed from a limited lens. This is also why their lives are usually a linear progression from bad to worse, misery lxves company though so they’ll be glad to have you around, especially if you can provide something for them somehow because best believe there is a level of give and take and you will, in one way or another, pay your way.

The problem is this, its easy to sink, hard to swim in the midst of all this filth because the habits, vibration and mentality of these folk is the epitome of crabs in a bucket. If you start to become a success they’ll either find a way to undermine or limit your progress. This can be petty things like discouragement or blatantly planning your end with a smile as they sit next to you in your place, enjoying the spoils of your effort as they’re plotting a way on how to to take it all away as their hearts pump nothing but venom due to the fact you possess a talent they can’t even imagine or comprehend.

Seen it many times and almost fell in the same pre dug hole once myself which is why I say:

You’re better off alone than being surrounded by low vibration people. In the world of Slaves the vast majority of them ain’t worth a thing because they’re pretty much identical after being conditioned by a System that suppressed the Soul out of them and then gave them fraudulent equivalents to approximate the sensation of being whole and entirely present – baubles, trinkets and such things. Not all of them are bad, as usual, its a percentage thing:

You’ll see some are one hundred percent committed to being their own worst enemy – a song that is sang to the melody of the most popular beat it seems – and yeah, its fun. Its also a crime against humanity because you’re Self murdering who you were supposed to be, peep:

Imagine each day getting high, fighting in the streets and having sex with a variety of woman that are either mentally, physically or spiritually diseased (often all three). It creates a discharge of light that brightens their internal night which helps take off the edge from their existential dread. Lets put a number on it and say its about three watts, still quite dim all things considered but enough to make a difference to their standard darkness.

Now, the Warrior realizes this process for what it is and notices the substances, people and circumstance can only trigger things within him ergo there must be other ways to mine this information – because that is what light it is, information and that is what underpins all of creation because the data condenses as it passes through the dimensions before being chopped up stitched together and represented as your senses as the world in which your sentience currently envisions living – so he sets off on an adventure of discovery and ignorance.

If there is light running round inside our systems that feels nice to imperience when it glistens and low level antics are the equivalent of picking the lock and stealing some trinkets from the mansion you live in then why not find the keys to your home and retake your place on the throne? See, the Slave would never think like this. They can’t see past the instant hit, the quick thrill and then its on to the next when they flatline again as they subsist though a life twice removed from death. Of course if they haven’t activated their potent then how can they feel it but there it is, the difference between a Slave and a Warrior:

Only one thinks, the other one places his bet on Thunk and spins the wheel yet again to be on the losing end of the deal getting the short end of the stick thats been predipped in the sweetest poison to ever grace their lips and this they accept with fevered passion and grace for the state it creates. A temporary escape from a life that they hate but dare not fully admit.

Now I say that to say this:

Even though 81% of the world is at this moment happily enSlaved in the daily punishment of being the (false) self they accept as they know not of the best version of themselves they could freely choose to be. Ah free, the word that is anathema to those who believe in the amusing concept of money which is in effect a physical representation of your Slavery and the hardest chain for most to see as it runs and underpins the entire System into which you were thrown from the moment you incarnated and has been influencing those who came before and since they were in the womb as it chose what your parents consumed, what fibers decorated their rooms and how they spent their lives in preparation for hosting the next light of the lotus to bloom into this filthy degraded pool.

That, that pure pristine state is available for any Slave should they wish but it involves going backward to progress which is another concept that won’t make sense as they’ve spent their lives being programmed to run like a chicken with no head on a psychosocial treadmill:

“Go to school, get into debt, get a better job to pay it back. Quick, get more debt, watch the TV set as a prophylaxis to dissent as you take your dreams and potent and see it reflected back as pretense instead. Do some drugs, have some sex, live a little, the end. See you on your next spin“.

With some variation here and there it describes every Slaves life. Some might substitute things for this or that here and then but all in all it is what it is as a Slaves programming is very simple and, like I said, they don’t think, they Thunk.

Thunk is prearranged think with big, handy sized pieces. Imagine this:

Lets say you were a complete klutz with no fine motor control so needlework, soldering, painting or suchlike and so forth were total no goes but you can pick up and dump bricks to a build a fort or castle. Then for your level of coordination that would scratch the itch of being able to create something.

Sure it wouldn’t be refined, not particularly original and totally limited by the medium as to what you could make anyway as the resolution is too low and the pieces too large in order to be wielded by your current skillset.

Thats the inside of a Slaves head.

Its not filled with thoughts because thoughts allow one to think and peer over the edge of the box they’re placed within and ask “How did I get here because I wasn’t born in it and for what intent? I wonder” the nascent Warrior said as he stops digging his Reality Tunnel and questions the program.

See, every Slave at some point, usually before the age of ten, has had that moment. This is when the last vestiges of their potent were braying on the walls of the cubic prison their ruler had been placed inside their head and told them it was for their best. Physically speaking its when you see the internal light start to dim in what was once a life filled kid. Goodbye, Inner Sense. Say hello to Adulteration.

After that its Thunk all the way and without this Knowledge and the sheer determination required to retrace ones steps back to that day its chunks of Thunk all the way, right up to the bloody end and beyond because it does have consequence as that is the point par excellence we’ll discover later on.

For now its all about Thunk:

Thunk is a chunk of thought, compacted, socially sanctioned, often accepted by ones parents, peers or group and the largest ones are poured in to the construction of your Mind Made Prison between the age of two and six with each layer after getting thin as there is only so much space within. These are the walls I spoke of that your potential attempted to smash in and get your attention, way back when, when you could still have saved your Self and its the reason why school is literally a criminal system, concentration camp par excellence, as it reduces think to Thunk and uses a host of similar tricks designed to impede your potential under the guise of progress which is simply rewarding regurgitation and smiting the creative principle.

Now, these big bricks of Thunk are what you use to create the world in your head and their familiarity and presence go down well for the limited section of awareness that is trapped down within because a) everyone else is also doing the same thing and b) you can’t think of any alternatives beyond saving the best for the end and or enjoying the current spin plus c) anything seen to contradict or contravene these bricks of thought, so heavy and dense is taken as a direct threat, not just against their perspective but also to their (false) self.

Stop and think for a moment:

Se all know of people who are so caught up in their role, possessions or status that it is, for all intents and purposes, the them they know best and they can’t imagine living without these concepts. Stockbrokers jumping out of windows when the market crashes easily idents the effects of Thunk on the human system. Its also the reason why blue chip executives die so quickly once they get a pension but we’ll speak on that elsewhen.

If you stood now with a brick in your hand and I said “Are you this?” you’d look, blink and think “Is he taking the whizz? Of course Im not the brick you pillock how can I be something I observe and can let go of if I wish?“. At which point Id grin and say “Exactly my friend, because, and here’s the rub, the secret sauce if you will”:

You can observe your thoughts and let go of them if you wish ergo you can’t be them and seeing as all your concepts of self are just mental Patterns and precepts you accept are solid as the bricks that are expertly designed to hem your awareness within then how can you be what you think?

Unless of course you just Thunk and by now we’ll both know who you are but at least now the Slaves have options because its a Game of three halves in this realm and its why you don’t know you don’t know that makes all the difference. Next time you catch your Self Thunking realize “I am the Witness” and drop the preformed brick of second hand concepts that Adulterate your awareness. Make this a habit and you’ll shift your wavelength, obtain a greater resonance and increase your vibration which is akin to having spent your entire existence listening to the song of your life on a noiZ filled AM set packed with static as you mangle the lyrics. Once you get the tunes on FM then you’re playing on another level because the next option is a disc so you pick what tunes spin but the most amazing effect is being able to stop and chill.

The Psylense. Can you hear it?

Till we meet again