willhelp.me

“So how is it?” she said, with genuine interest.

“You know that buzz you have when you’re all hyped about shopping for a new dress or some fancy accoutrement for which you’ve been lusting on the quest to beautify your Self?” I replied. She nodded her head so I continued:

“Its like that except the thrill doesn’t end or dim“. Her eyes said “Wow!” as much as her lips as her pupils dilated to take it all in without filter or limitation.

“So, you’re constantly buzzing then? Like on your own personal little trip of bliss? No wonder you’re always grinning”. I had to stop and think about this for a minute because, much like the rest, I haven’t a clue about the impression I present or how it feels to Witness my energetics. Actually, neither do they – in the objective sense – as all perception is tinted with their subjective projection as I am another element of them as ye are of me. Quite a funny trick to peep and that always makes me smile as I click I interact with little more than figments of my imagination that are here to teach me something more about my Self. To bring her up to speed before the train leaves the station I said:

“Imagine you were born into a world that had a perfect climate where nature was abundant and everyone walked around naked. There was no shame to the physical form, nothing to be hidden or represented as the people were more engaged in other things to carry bundles of stressed energetics and the resulting world building”.

“Sounds like a dream. I can picture it, in a sense, but I can’t feel it. At least not truly. Huh. You know thats a really strange thing to speak because its just made me click how unaccepting of ourselves at the most basic level we are as a collective. No wonder they use sex to sell everything whilst, at the same time, wrapping it in all types of judgements as well as various terms and conditions of engagement. Even when you do get into bed its, nine times out of ten, a performance until one cracks the shell. I guess thats what you meant by world building? Isn’t it strange how invisible this is until you sense it and feelsee the alternative?”.

“Yep. Thats all part and parcel of the Game for most of the planet. They just take the script they’re handed, without examining or asking questions, and dig the Reality Tunnel as said by the voice in their head. The end. Then they come back and do it all again until that fateful spin something rises from the induced slumber within and says “Wait a minute! I ain’t that voice. How can I be when I’m the one thats listening?“”.

“The Witness” she said, nodding her head as she’d mastered the state of shifting her perceptions to be in the world of her mind but not of it at whim.

“Correct. Its like that, I guess, no matter how often you click that wavelength it never loses its newness and yet its exceedingly familiar as well. Thats how walking the Path of Power is. On one hand it feels as natural as being naked and on the other you know you look amazing when dipped in a fresh fit and ready to get it cracking, dig?”.

She did so I continued and said:

“I don’t see the line until I’m over it”.

“What do you mean?” was ejected from lips beneath a nose that wrinkled in consternation at the shift in her perceptions.

“Well, think about it. If you took that naked realm version of thee and said “Here, fresh from the tailors and the boutique we have the latest threads of Paris made of the best materials in designs that are timeless. And these shoes are just too perfect. Try them on, try them on!” what do you expect would happen?“.

She stopped to consider the deal and placed her Witness in a state of association with that figment of her imagination which was a real as the me she dealt with in our conversation.

“She hates it. Its all super uncomfortable and feels weird against her skin that is used to being totally natural and in its element. The shoes, most of all, she feels are totally ridiculous and won’t even entertain trying them”.

“Right, and for thee who is well adjusted to this way of being you’d feel something quite different and probably would notice quite a lot less in terms of the impingement as you’ve been trained into this since you first set foot in this realm, correct?”. I didn’t wait for a response before continuing:

“And yet the very idea of being totally naked feels intensely vulnerable which means you’re comfortable with being uncomfortable and this hints at the state of Adulteration that holds most of the world within its grip. Now, lets pretend that like the Emperor who was naked – thanks to the confidence tricks and dream selling of those well versed in the art of hypnosis – you are wearing the energetic equivalent of chain mail around your unfinite awareness and if I were to take it off too quick you’d find your Self hallucinating and ending up as an in patient at your local insane asylum“. This one I knew I had to let digest so I chilled and let her chest do its thing at the implications of the statement because its always better to draw your own links and conclusions versus being spoon fed.

“So like the girl used to nakedness who would reject the threads because they felt strange we, as humans, would do the same if we came face to face with our own raw energetics because we’re not used to them and, mostly, have no use of what they bring as they aren’t part of the deal for most playas on this level?”. I grinned.

“Keep going. Riff. Freestyle for a bit and lets see what happens”.

“Well, in an ideal world that was totally natural I’d have been born as the girl that was sustained by her immediate environment in which all were naked. I don’t know why but I’m picturing it as an island, no a coastline as there is more land mass present for later exploration but we are all near the beach and live like a huge extended family. I’m weaving some dried leaves into a doll like one of my Aunts taught me so I can give it as a gift to my friend who is really my cousin” she started laughing. “It actually feels so amazing, so real and vivid. Like, I’ve lived this life, forgotten and just remembering because the little details are oh so vivid. I recall how the boys on the verge of being men said they were going off the reservation as adventure was calling them and the challenges inherent in what we’d now call team building and initiation. It feels so real… It feels so real” she said as she drifted off into an imagination realm that rested in place not marked on any maps the System had furnished in this incarnation.

“Imagine if we plucked this girl from the timestream and dressed her in the heaviest of chain mail in conditions that were cold, brutal and unforgiving. Her survival instincts and Self preservation would kick in and lets pretend nobody else gives and F nor comprehends her plight so she’s alone in this mix as she tries to make sense of what was happened. In this situation there are the quick and the dead. How long do you think it would take before she became accustomed to life on the battlefield that demanded she ate, lived and slept in these heavy metal threads as the constant threat of death was floating just over her head in this quest for survival”. She shifted her Witness, as requested, and there was a marked increase in her physical tension that reflects how powerful the imagination is. With a chest clenched in tension that barely allowed breath in she said:

“I can’t even consider it. There just isn’t a chance to compare or think because if I started paying too much attention to what I’d left I’d never be able to do what was needed to keep death at a distance”. I let her settle in to this shift because the mind is akin to water which takes the shape of whatever its filling, without question. The Slave accepts this. The Warrior recollects that by shining the light of higher awareness upon the predicament you can transfer the vibration which makes liquid lift as it shifts to vapor instead that recollects its true consciousness. In this example we’d done the flip and chilled it almost solid instead and once she was locked in to this frame of reference she said:

“You know what, its not too bad, really. Its like there are points of sheer exhilaration and stress mixed in with counterswings that allow me to relax and chill. In many ways I’d say I’m well adjusted and, now and then, I can allow my Self to think about the life I left. Except… Except…” she drifted as she was searching within for an equivalent frame of reference and then found it:

“Its like comparing who I am to who I was as a child”. A shiver ran through her frame as tingles ascended her spinal column. “Wow. Oh wow. No wonder you’re always grinning. This is absolutely amazing. So this is how it is, is it? No wonder you call them Slaves, lumbering, under the burden of their unexamined ignorance. To be spiritually naked must be quite liberating. How do you maintain it in a world like this then where everyone else is running, full pelt, on the battle field of the corporate jungle in full war dress with the intent to kill and eradicate the competition?”.

“I don’t. I don’t see the line until I’m over it”.

“You said that before and I still don’t get it? Can you be specific for once? All this imagination usage can be exhausting!”. I filled her in by telling her how many calories it expends as well as the fact its akin to a muscle that is strengthened by repeated activation before adding:

“If I walk naked onto the battlefield then bad things can happen. On the flip if I come charging onto the beach within a metal exoskeleton the reception won’t be as expected. Thats the line of what is appropriate and when”.

“Ahh!” she said. “No wonder you like to spend so much time by your Self and those other things you mentioned, back when. That makes a lot of sense”.

“The other aspect is that its a constant work in progress because being Centered in Self comes with its own challenge as some teachers that pop into my awareness are using stress points of induction that extend from my ancestors lives and timestreams as a way of testing me in the present and, using this, one can extend back to the prime state you Witnessed. Did you notice that the sun never really sets? How there was a perpetual glow of illumination that shone with a light that was quite different to the Earth at the moment as it had a mix of golden purple hues that felt like neon that was subdued as a way to set the mood?”.

“Oh my gosh! Yes, I just did but didn’t notice it before you mentioned because I was too busy trying to get comfortable in my own skin. Wait a sec, are you saying this place we’re visiting is real? Like really real?”. She looked inquisitive.

“Whats real if you’re sitting here now talking to a figment of your imagination?”. She started laughing as I said:

“What if two people have the same hallucination? Does that make it genuine? What if a whole group of people believe as Self evident something someone else said, back when, that they have no way of empirically verifying but the fact that it was good enough for their parents is good enough for them. Now lets pretend that another group, or tribe, if you will, from across the hill are on a different trip and these two have been at each others necks for generations. Those are the respective Adulterated armors they’re wearing over their natural Inner Sense which is simply too present, too sensitive and thus must be sequentially limited to tamp its perceptions until they get to the point where they don’t even feel the wire of the bra digging or the limitation of the black silk dress against their skin or the five inch heels upon which they strut to perfection in the hope of impressing someone else with their external signals that are, truly, a poor equivalent for what they won’t admit they’re missing“.

She opened her mouth to say something. Closed it again and then repeated this process for a few steps before drifting off on the wings of the Witness to find her own answers instead. As she later said:

“After all, if you are just a figment of my imagination then all I’m seeking is already within, all I need to do is follow my intuition and see what happens whilst throwing in an occasional bit of course correction until it becomes totally natural. I guess I don’t see the line until I’m over it either!” she said with a grin before she started laughing.

Till we meet again

Do you remember when it clicked that the folks standing at the head of the class in school were idiots? I mentioned, elsewhen, the whole “Write with your right hand unless you want to get left behind” thing that made me pause and think about the vagaries of this Devilish language but not long after that it seemed Self evident that none of these professed founts of wisdom actually had any passion for schooling because they were actually doing it for a check. Like, zoinks, bud. How am I supposed to learn from someone that gives not one single solitary F about this? Contrast that with career criminals, for example, and you find an immense sense of passion because their life and freedom literally depends on it. Yeah, in retrospect those were pretty strange events in years formative but like a fish born and raised in psychedelic waters you don’t think much about it and just handle your business with whats in front of your vision, yes?

The best teachers are always learning. By that I mean you’re a perpetual student who is constantly refining their perspective. Sadly this state of mind is very rare in this day and age as most make up their minds around age twenty six and then spend the rest of their life running around with a faulty OS in their head that generally makes them miserable. Ask them if they want to change it and they say “Sure!” but try and tell them about it and listen to the space between their shells whistle and not a single drop of wisdom shall make it to their chest. Know why? School disconnected it and this leads back to what I said about passion.

Have you ever learned how to pick a lock? Its really a fascinating thing that requires one to be so intuitive and sensitive because you’re approximating the presence of a key one pin at a time whilst applying just the right amount of tension. The thrill when it opens is immense and its also quite a handy skill should someone find themselves locked out of a building. How about learning how to still your mind and attune to the Psylense that lies around and within the noiZ in your head? Thats an amazing buzz as well because when it clicks you feel a state I’ve termed Inner Sense that is so familiar in its newness. What about learning to sleep properly? The rewards of this one are immense because a great day always begins with the night before which spins into a spiral of constant perfection aka Incremental Betterment.

All of these things are akin to a utility belt of skills that you store within your consciousness to use as and when and thus they aren’t on any official curriculum that simply says “Hey, take this inverted noose, place it round your neck and reflect what we said back on the test and you’ll progress in this realm via taking on more and more debt to impress those as broken (and broken) as your (false) self”. Obviously they say the loud part loud and the rest is quiet kept but that, in a nutshell, is how 81% of the realm were enSlaved via the System.

The best teachers are always learning and in this Game we’re playing using our Souls as credits you should be your own leader and your only student. What worked for them may not work for thee so reject genericsim and the whole wannabe thing that is so common by unlearning the crap they pumped in your head by gaining realignment. Take the net, for example:

Its an echo chamber that is designed to be seductive and present a very obvious form of gaslighting via the congregating and promoting of various village idiots and some tentpoling. Told you, this is a three ring (read: dimensional) circus. For some its just clicked what those demonic machine elves slash clown faces which feel like threats are as they ushered you out and in to the ride of your life where your unfinite awareness was draped with skin and you believe the truths your lying eyes tell. Actually, that reminds me. Did you ever see this gem?

Man, this was one of the few times in school I perked up and paid attention and then refused to pipe down because it made absolutely zero sense. I mean, we see a tree, yeah, and its reflected, super quick, but upside down and then flipped before being presented to our senses. The fact that there was a wetware layer in the mid that did this was fascinating to me because how do we know there aren’t more beyond what they said for vision that are steadily augmenting our awareness? Turns out there are. My intuition was correct! Of course the teachers thought I was being a pest by constantly hammering on about this so I was ejected from the class, again, and as I did the George Jefferson to the exit with a grin I was glad as it afforded me time to think at depth:

“Something inside us is manipulating our awareness and the equipment is designed to hide this”.

I returned to this thought again and again and it made me ponder about the true nature of schizophrenics who may actually just be seeing things that are present but stealthily edited. I mean, to a child an imaginary friend is as real and solid as a park bench plus this persona has its own likes, wisdom and influence. Actually, me a three new parents performed a very interesting experiment with their newborn kids that I may detail elsewhen as the implications were fascinating. It all started with me asking them to map the sounds they made and their resulting state in order to create a table of wavelengths so when the kid said this they knew it meant “Do that” and thus they formed a link with their developing consciousness. This experiment grew into something that fascinated one couple and terrified the rest with its implications but it all sprang from a simple observation:

Have you ever seen a baby, just before they hit one, lets say, that is sitting there ranting and raving with immense passion? Its like they’ve got something to say but can’t quite control the form as they wish. Almost like they remember something from a past life and are struggling to tell you facts, real important. Its like watching a man on Ketamine have a transcendental imperience in which life and all of its greatness makes perfect sense through some private revelation that he tries real hard to convey, lucidly. In his brain, via his frame, he shared many great things but for the one looking on and noting he simply drooled on himself with a bit of hand waving. When he came back to Earth and was questioned then asked to explain what happened the state dependent memory kicked in and he found that part inaccessible. Thats what popped into my head when a mother bought her child in and says “I don’t know what the hell he’s jabbering about or what has got into him but he just won’t quit since he got up at Six AM”. I listened intently to the tone and syntax beyond the babbling and noticed that some points were issued as questions and other statements that had body language, emphatic. Intuiting the pitch I responded with similar tones and after a quick conversation the kid smiled and grinned as he totally chilled. Thats what inspired the experiment with the rest as it made me blend a heady mix of disassociatives, schizophrenics and the old fashioned near death experience before being mindwiped and slammed in the flesh again. After all, no child comes here grinning, do they?

The best teachers are always learning and thus, to me, I am a student of the best hence there are no enemies or strangers in my perspect as I gain so much from my interactions with them. Some of the best and most insightful conversations I’ve had have came from the dregs of the social pyramid like heroin addicts who chased a little too much of the dragon and fell into the abyss as well as various other derelicts and incompetents but its the so called unhinged that offered immense amounts of illumination by sharing their perspective. Some of them had maintained codes of silence with their old friends, family and so called medical professionals but let me in the moment we met as we spoke about their revelations. You know I’ve never met a dim schizo. Ever. They always were fiercely intelligent, even with depot injections in their rear ends that did little else but make them easier to handle but that is another topic we may get into elsewhen because the this thread is all about passion and how it reflects in and amplifies everything.

I don’t care if its cooking, programming or even nine to fiving. Those who do it with their heart involved usually have a far greater time than those who head in then clock out after a shift because the truth of the matter is one who is in autopilot in one aspect of their life is usually also sleepwalking in the rest. Call it social hypnosis, the intrapersonal trance or straight up Adulteration its symptoms are exceedingly common and this parasitical way of being can’t wait to leap into the heads of the next generation in order to make them emotionally dead as well. Its a strange, strange state of play in this Game where we insert our Souls (read: awareness) as credits to don the flesh which are then programmed by those around us and various institutions that are hell bent on keeping our attention on them or anywhere but within. Babies scream when they meet someone who is out of resonance with them as it literally feels like someone is severing their Source connection but if the same seed is birthed to a team who have NPD then these emotional vampires will feast upon them and the child that grows to become a man will think its natural to put everyone else before them as they run around trying to ensure they get the validation they crave and pat on the head by presenting themselves as a doormat instead as that is how they were programmed. This, as you can imagine, can be quite exhausting and the kid in question may start smoking or drinking at a young age before huffing glue and the rest before finding his groove with dissociatives, like I’d previously mentioned, so that whilst I was standing in corridors, ruminating, this Soul in question was whacked out in the wasteland, off on another trip to his inner realms. He said:

“Its odd how feeling numb actually allows me to be present” before pausing, reflecting and adding “But what about all of these things, floating, around us in this realm that they say don’t exist but make me feel terrified with their insane influence” as we sat talking on the grounds of a mental institution after one too many trips had lead to him getting sectioned and he knew only one man could get him out of this.

The best teachers are always learning and I’m a perpetual student in that respect ergo there are no limits in my head that prevent me from drawing links or asking the hard questions as well as being willing to listen, without judgement, to what others may fear you think is ridiculous or a theory which is tenuous as best. To me they’re all valid and seeing as I’m the only one in this realm its Self evident I interact with figments of my imagination and thus each Soul I help along the way to liberation is akin to defragmenting the collective subconscious that forms this illusion we call the Matrix.

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Till we meet again

Some people say this place is a flawed creation designed by an incompetent that traps Souls in thick sheaths of ignorance and then seems to take immense pleasure in torturing them whilst charging for each and every step and that may be true. What is also genuine is the statement that the sheer thrill of discovery, learning and mastery – in and of itself – is a huge buzz that is only possible in this realm ergo heaven and hell are here. They have their basis in your mindset and how you relate to the present moment itself which is, sadly, the gift many leave unwrapped during their adventure in the flesh as they’re too busy beating themselves up in their head about past regrets or future stress, most of which never happened. Such a strange state of affairs, and yet, thats exactly how it is. From my lens at least, your mileage could (and should) vary. Actually, that makes for an interesting tangent:

Many folks don’t think like this because they rearrange socially sanctioned chunks of Thunk instead as I’ve previously mentioned and thus, for them, this could be the blasphemous ravings of a deranged lunatic but the wise once said:

“Before you complain about the dirt under my seat why not push the broom under your own pew?”. Its amazing what you may discover when it clicks that one finger pointing out at the so called problem also hint at the three aimed at the true cause so look within and tell me if you find any resonance or a totally different image of how we came to wear the flesh as you make sense of the concepts the world handed to you, back when, and most accepted, verbatim. I didn’t. Never have and never will thanks to the superpower of Inner Sense which tends to examine everything at depth with a curiousness that is intense thanks to having no limits in my head. Granted for many this is a bridge too far that isn’t mapped on any tech they possess ergo they maroon themselves on an island of ignorance when enlightenment always was an option. Just not for them on this level, by their own admission, hence they make up the 81% that accept that being unplugged equals death and its all thanks to the vagaries of the System that did a number on their head, back when, to render them a living hostage. Back on topic:

Heaven and hell are here. They are literally states of being. Two men are standing on a wet terrace, watching a football team kick around an object of fascination that is made of hexagrams and pentangles to approximate a circular form. Great occult truths are hidden in plain sight for the eyes of the wise. In this case the one dressed in red is totally fascinated and yells for his team as he stands, taking it all in. His nerves are filled with all types of signals and the adrenaline dumps as the dopamine hits when the ball finds its target in the back of the net. He leaps, he yells, they score. “Goaaaaalllllll!!!!!” rushes past his lips that are twisted in a huge grin as the entire terrace erupts in celebration. All except one, that is.

His friend, dressed in blue, came along for “God knows what reason. Its cold, actually freezing. I’m soaked to the skin. I can’t stand this Game. It makes no sense and seems vaguely homoerotic and frankly its totally boring. I’d rather be anywhere than here at this moment” he states, whist shivering.

Did you see what just happened?

The external circumstance in both cases was identical and yet their private inner realms were actually heaven and hell. For the die hard fan the great British weather is part and parcel of the equation and what makes the post match celebration with a few ales so amazing because of the contrast it brings. He feels larger than life, connected with the rest who stand on the terraces, yelling, as his mind imagines its him out there kicking the ball and leading the team to a triumphant win which simply sets them up for their next challenge and has the the entire pub buzzing even more than the alcohol they drink as they’re toasting. For the dude in the blue, however, all he could think about was how boring it is and totally moronic to be that caught up in something that has no appeal to him. All of his discomforts were at the fore as he felt soaked to the skin with his teeth chattering as he wondered why the hell he signed up for this experiment. And yet, at the same time, same place, same situation his kin was as close to heaven as he’d been, for a moment.

Isn’t that interesting? I think it is because it offers huge insights into the human condition as well as food for consideration about the purpose of entertainment along with the deep tribal aspects of conflict, unification and the thrill of triumph whilst besting an Opponent by making him your Victim. Even if its by proxy in this example and you, directly, have done none of this. Such is the power of imagination, projection and identification and these three were totally lacking in Mr Blue who thought the rest standing were a bunch of tools:

“Overgrown manchildren, inept fools!” he says as he sits around a table with his friends playing a Game of Dungeons and Dragons. For him this fantasy is as real as it gets as he’s totally invested in this endeavor but cannot draw the links between how and why Mr Red would scream and yell on a wet terrace when he chooses to wet his whistle via a different wavelength. And yet, to us, observing, there is far more in common with each of their preference as the function stripped of form is nigh on identical.

See why I’ve said we’re in a fractal, my friend? How there is but one shape that keeps endlessly repeating and its vision differs upon your perspective and how upping your resolution is the best thing that can happen as then you comprehend that it all takes place in your awareness and thus you are an exceedingly potent slice of life that is aligned with the Prime, the pre-existing, nameless and formless that is pure consciousness at it best that is currently attached to your flesh (that modulates its imperience, as seen in the example) and does strange things with time via the power of attention. Actually, thats a valid point so lets dive in:

Mr Blue on the terrace felt like the match would never end whereas for his friend the ninety minutes flew by with a quickness. Its the same with talking to an attractive women versus being trapped in a lift. The same principle is at play when we’re dreaming as we can fit many lifetimes and their own adventures into a few minutes in REM and the implications of this are quite interesting as, once again, we can Witness heaven or hell from the comfort of our beds in the privacy of our heads and then rise, shining, as we comprehend it was just another figment of our imagination. That is exactly how death is. Just like this. Lets bring Mr Blue and Mr Red into the mix:

The former is so attached to this realm that leaving it, his team, his friends and family as well sounds like his own personal hell. Sure, he is a bit religious at major events or when he has a problem but, aside from that, god is low on his totem pole of things he classes as important. He’s an average gent that likes the standard things and was never one for quiet introspection and frankly couldn’t care less about most things that don’t involve having a drink and spending time with his friends (usually talking about sport whilst doing none themselves) as he is a social animal.

Mr Red, on the flip, is what we’d term an Incel. He has never had a girlfriend, has a limited circle that is just like him and thus they escape into the world of fantasy via Games as a collective and indulge in vast quantities of porn, alone, on the reg. To him life is hell because he gets that a few more millimeters of bone, some better skin, a lower body fat percentage and five extra inches on his penis with the same added to his height as well would have got him all the chicks instead of spending his life rolling dice with a bunch of nerds then investing the rest in masturbating. To him there isn’t much to keep him attached to this realm because he can’t help but shake the feeling the deck was rigged and whoever is in charge of it hates him and wants to see him miserable so when he meets his death he is more than glad to relinquish the life that never gave him a thing beyond the torturous dread of being involuntarily celibate.

During that time when both of these Souls dance in the belts of radiation of the magnetosphere we’ll notice an immense different in this subjective imperience as one will be effortlessly stripped of that which he willingly relinquishes as of this realm whilst the other will fight, tooth and nail, to hold onto his concepts that he used to define him Self.

Interesting, isn’t it. Fractals, everywhen, recollect?

You can take this scale and apply it anywhere you wish and I’m confident the answers will be identical ergo this may just be the universal constant that none can deny once grokked as its implications are Self evident. Welcome to the Game of Souls, my friend, where heaven and hell are ways of responding to your inner realms as they dance with external events and circumstances which are, fundamentally, a projection which you consume via your consumption with it. Not for nothing did the ancients come up with the term Ouroboros which has a snake biting its tail as it forms into a circle I call the wheel of time for ye are it. Examine:

Isn’t that interesting? From a Fourth Dimensional perspective this is your life, in a nutshell. Can you see why I’ve said free will is an illusion because those tracks are etched like a song on a record as your Soul moves the needle of awareness through the vinyl and your flesh plays the song of your life to your awareness via the flesh and the rest. Granted, once you increase your res, you notice the vinyl actually has depth and how there are alternate versions of the song etched on the record if you can shift the wavelength of the needle and, magically, the life you live can flip as well. Amazing, isn’t it? Just one of the many gifts hidden in the present that many blues and reds will never unwrap whilst living. Much like the Yin Yang spins the Soul who awakens the Warrior within intuits the still bit in the mid around which everything spins and says “I am that” as they walk the Path of Power in its golden radiance via becoming Centered in Self and thus shift beyond these subjective whims we call hell and heavenly into something far more abstract and yet, paradoxically, realer than real.

Won’t you come dance with me in the higher wavelengths of actualized potential beyond the blue and red as well as those purple pimps I call the Slave/Masters that know all about this but keep it hid by foisting states of hypnosis on the rest for their own fun and merriment. That, I suppose, is their Game whilst mine is “Get free or thrive trying” and this mindset is much to their chagrin because each Soul that gains gnosis can jet from this realm, should they wish, and this affects their balance sheet in the end because, make no mistake, its all business for them. Such is the way of the pyramid whereas I’m a man of the circle – without beginning or end – but, should I choose, to borrow that ninety degree angle of spin that keeps the higher dimensions hidden to all except babes, the elderly and kittens then the spiral is created and with it ascent that goes far beyond this three ring circus of the flesh in which most are so plugged in that these concepts may sound like metaphysically gibberish and not something they can actually live.

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Till we meet again

The world is a stage. Five words everyone knows but only a few truly comprehend and actually put into practice. Those that do reap the rewards and the ones that don’t are little more than puppets on a string that are moved, that way and this, by whims they just don’t get but acquiesce to, nonetheless.

How many of your thoughts are actually your own? Not many, says me, based on imperience and introspection. If you haven’t looked within then its quite difficult to see what I mean by this because so many folks invest in the narrative which unfolds via a constant stream of suggestsions via that voice in their head. Newsflash:

You are not it. How can you be when you are obviously that which listens. This state is what I call the Witness. Once this clicks then its a straight line in Tetris movement as the rest of the blockages and obstacles melt, with a quickness. Check:

Imagine, right now, at this very moment, that you are reading from a script. You look at the ink and the handwriting then nod your head saying “Yes that is me, those are my thoughts, my observations and my interpretations”. That is the way of the Slave who possess no Knowledge of Self as they are too busy skimming the surface and attempting to manipulate the external realm from a position of ignorance that it is merely an effect, not the prime cause. That is the stage in question. Lets say if you hear what I’m saying on FM and look closer at the script. Suddenly something very amazing happens as you start to discern different shades of ink as you realize:

“Wait a minute, I made up that interpretation based on an interaction with an ex from back when. That one I gained from something my parents told me when I was impressionable and the other is based on what I saw in a flick that really resonated and I integrated into my subconscious”.

That brings the first sprigs of freedom and from then on its up to you to nurture and develop them. This process is akin to increasing the resolution of an image and one of the most interesting side effects is you click that external people and events are simply projections of your state from within. If you change how you relate to this the outer world is interpreted different and your interaction shifts. Does that show you how powerful your consciousness is and why the relationship with Self is the most important one in this realm as we literally interact with figments of our imagination ergo each one offers the potential for enlightenment as you can choose to create a response instead of merely reacting. Same letters, different flip and thus you beget a higher wavelength.

Just applying this method to your relationships can bring such wonderful things because it becomes Self evident that you are surrounded by teachers whose chief intent is to make you aware of this process. If it were a test how many on the planet, at this moment, do you think have passed? Better yet, now you Know this the next time you feel your Self sliding into a well worn groove of a relationship that doesn’t fulfill you can choose to pick different responses. Dice life is a great way of putting this into practice and that is akin to taking on a new role on the stage and that ties back into acting which is the key to this performance in which many people are miserable and feel so powerless as they are dragged, that way and this, via various impulses.

Why is it like this? Well, that is a really deep topic but it comes down to the programming language of this realm which makes the Game interesting because, left to their own devices, most people wouldn’t do much of anything without these factors being present. Being cognizant of this is the main difference between playing the Game of being played by it. The easiest way I can put it to you is by referencing an opening from The Simpsons where you see Marge in the whip with Maggie sitting there with a steering wheel that isn’t connected. To her, in her world, she simply ticks the boxes where her actions match the outer realm as she edits the ones that don’t fit. Some of you may have noticed this is the exact thing that happens when people visit psychics. Lets say she comprehended this was happening by disengaging and doing nothing. Suddenly she would become aware that the outer realm (which references the thoughts in your head) keeps on doing what it did and from this she can develop discernment.

This, in a nutshell, is one of the main tenets on the Path of Power because by realizing this you can finally take charge of the vehicle of your consciousness instead of being set adrift by socially programmed awareness that offers its default mode of being that many find quite unfulfilling. Apply it to your day to day, see what happens. Start getting used to just watching the thoughts in your head and you’ll notice they come and go as they wish like images on a television. You are the Witness, that which is watching. The more investment you pour in the stronger they get as they drag you into their resonance and then its a simple case of going through the motions with no emotion aka being a meat puppet. That isn’t a very happy life because it feels so disempowering therefore the cure to this socially sanctioned problem is being willing to look within and increase your resolution in order to make better decisions via the skillful application of wisdom.

Till we meet again

Picture, if you will, a tower that glistens. If we were to look within we’d see its packed to the gills with all kinds of things ranging from signs and symbols up to the latest tech and the rest of what you’d expect for a Soul to make sense of wearing flesh and walking around a planet. One of the most curious things is there is only one window which allows light in and that, for some strange reason, is obscured by an immense TV set. I guess you don’t miss what you never suspected you possess as the black mirror that hangs in its stead provides a convincing counterfeit that actually outdoes the real thing in some respects.

With the grip of its familiarness, this tower of isolation says “Nothing else exists outside these walls which is, in a practical sense, knowable” in various tones and dialects. It matters not who listens as the message is always identical. You, at this very moment, dwell within the (false) selfsame thing I have just mentioned. Countless billions do the same and that is before we take into account those who’ve came and left this plane and the ones still awaiting manifestation within the prism of time and space. How few, by design, I may add, recollect that there was a time – once upon a when – where they ran, free, around the Earths surface. Nay, even that wasn’t enough to contain them as they’d build rocket ships in their imagination and jet off to distant stars in the blink of an eye as they lived and dwelled within the extended resonance I call Inner Sense. That is to come, for now, back to the tower and the tale it spins:

We all know the tower well. It is what protects us with its shell and seemingly solid presence. In that respect man is much like a snail as none are born with it but we all develop it, nonetheless. Actually, lets interject another creature as well because its presence is most interesting:

A hermit crab is the animal kingdoms equivalent of a well read hippy that grabs a title from a landed gent by claiming squatters rights for the home that was left in neglect. This example will become more relevant as well progress but, for now, lets get back to the humans in their towers of strength that actually limit and inhibit the development of their awareness.

“Without these bricks of belief wrapped around my tenderness I don’t think I could take much more of this mess” says one such denizen as he looks around this realm with its seemingly never ending conflict. I asked him, previously, to disconnect from the net and let that black mirror hang silent and he said “That sounds like a fate worse than death”. See, the sad truth of the tower is that without the glitz and glamour, which is akin to seeing who has the best decor in their jail cell, is that its built to limit your presence and range of sensations you allow your Self to Witness. Let me back it up a bit:

Children ran, up and down the hill, they swung from the trees then lay on their backs watching the clouds overhead as they made up stories and adventures about what was happening. At this point their towers were still in the construction stage. The instructions of “Sit still! Look ahead!” were laying the blueprint but it would only be around the age their peers wear mortar boards on their head would it be almost built and ready to lock them within from then till the end. In contrast a schizophrenic would attest their life is like a scratched record that had multiple versions of the same song at differing forms of resonance so, at one point, they too may just appear to fit in well until madness hits like a bombshell and they’re listening to an acapella version by a cover band and then an alternative take with a live orchestra thrown in before being hit with the same bolt of inspiration that bought the lyrics, pouring, to the artist on that cold and wet Monday morning before super stardom. Granted trying to explain these shifts to one who is totally unaware there are such options happening in the same instance is a one way ticket to a padded cell and one of those nice jackets that allow you to give yourself a big, warm hug of madness as a depot injection is stuck in your rear end. Actually, this concept is worth examining at length:

Lets say, once upon a when, people didn’t build towers. They erected tents instead and lets pretend that these teepees were only to sleep in as they spent the rest outside, in their element, and in full resonance with the environment. That you could think was a different version of the song called “How it Feels to be a Human” that was then remixed with some industrial beats thrown in and distorted vocals and hammering percussion. “Ugh, turn off that mess” says the man who dwells in a modern tower of Babel as he stares at his TV set and eats his microwaved dinner after coming home from the office before going to bed and doing it all again. Imagine if you were insane and the needle of awareness on the record of your consciousness skipped between such things and reality, seamlessly, shifted to accommodate that which you perceive as it weaves it in to a smooth narrative because that is what those pounds of gray matter in your head do best. How do you think that would feel? How difficult to relate and convey to the rest that erect homes of solid brick in the modern way of doing things would that be? Can you comprehend the challenge? Better yet can you digest the implications of what I’ve just said and ponder the true cause of these effects and their implications for the one percent of the global populace that it holds in its grips as they’re medicated to death via ways that address not the problem but attempt to quell the symptoms which is akin to training an elephant to tap dance next to the skipping record in the hope of getting it back in the groove again.

And yet the so called schizophrenic is the only one that can tell there is some subtle yet all pervading problem that encompasses the entire realm as people are housed in these square bricked towers of isolation that they dare not question for their presence is sacrosanct and underpins their own definitions and relations to themselves and the world as it stands. Getting back to the denizen in question I previously mentioned:

“So, what you’re saying is that behind the TV set there is actually a window hidden and this gives us an accurate view of the land in which there are billions of towers, standing, in isolation?”.

“Yes. Yet, connected”.

“What do you mean?”.

“Well, in the midst of all of these towers there is a single point, a beacon, an edifice to which they are all linked by a long thread which dips in the mid. Its really very clever and, quite frankly, most devilish as many will live and die without ever suspecting the hidden presence and the option it brings”.

“So what is in this middle tower? This lighthouse as you call it?”.

“Illumination, my friend. Alas I can’t call it as one must feelsee to comprehend the subtle meaning as the difference is immense”.

“How did you get from where you are to this beacon?”.

“Well, it started with a craving for silence. Actually, no let me back up a bit. It began when I was wondering what made the record spin and the nature of that voice in my head that kept me binge watching and fridge raiding. Out of boredom, one day, I decided to not do what it says so I turned off the TV set and stated “My ears hear good news only“. You won’t believe what happened”,

“What? What?”.

“Well, the silence was as deafening as it was uncomfortable. I hated it. It felt like the walls were closing in and I paced, that way and this. Suddenly, like I was on autopilot I grabbed the remote and flicked on the set. Sitting there wondering what the hell just happened and how on Earth this was possible I became aware of looking at myself. Except it wasn’t. It was a gross approximation. The version of me that was the equivalent of a battery hen that was born and raised in the grip of this tower itself filled with the artificial illumination of the TV set and the non stop chatter in my head. In a rage I smashed the screen and watched it fall to pieces. That was when the window revealed itself and the thing that speaks via my tongue went ape as it tried all and everything to stop me looking from this new vantage. A penny or pound was irrelevant, I was all in and had to know what was happening so I stepped onto the ledge and what I saw scared me close to death. There were loads and loads of towers, stretched all over the world and continents and yet equidistant to all was the beacon I mentioned that called to my attention.

I surveyed the silver cord that linked me to this place in the distance. It seemed to be solid but it was now a question of nerve and balance. Little did I suspect there was a third aspect, well hid, that would soon come crashing into my awareness as it made its presence felt. Do you know what the Trickster is?”.

“Yes, yes I do. I watched a documentary about it, once upon a when. Its a very common myth around the planet about a two faced god that may just be the devil who is rather adept at pretending many things as he pulls off all kinds of slick shenanigans that constantly make a donkeys rear end out of the poor bamboozled humans“.

“Exactly. He still lives in this realm. You know him best as the voice in your head. As I stepped out from the ledge he yelled “Mind your step, don’t think about falling, its a long way to go splat on the pavement”. I was so taken aback by the presence after having become accustomed to being alone in my tower that I didn’t comprehend that now we had separated he needed to sustain himself by using my fear and dread that he induced via the use of suggestions and manipulations that ensured I would remain unbalanced and bent, instead, to his whims so that he may live by draining my resources”.

“Hmm? What was that? I wasn’t listening as I got distracted. Could you repeat the question?” said the denizen of his tower as we engaged in our conversation. This was to be expected so I grinned and ran it back again and then showed him both the strength and weakness of the puppet master in his head that controls the narrative to which he said:

“Fascinating. So what happened next?”.

I regaled the tale of how I set to Know the Ledge and then fell, died and came back again. And again. And again. And again. Each time the programming was a little less effective and each time I was swifter on the disconnect until that day came where I ascend and made safe passage from one end to the next. This is the Inner Sense of Ubermensch as I was now free to visit the towers of other people as I wished but there were no doors upon which to announce my presence and the ubiquitous TV set hanging over the window to obscure their vision so I climbed back into mine instead and sat there typing my message for those who have felt, for no apparent reason, that there is something very, very wrong with this realm and their way of living. Well, there is. I call it Adulteration. This is the process that shifted from teepess and peace pipe smoking to towers and everyone against anyone as the war thats coming. Its why people are addicted to the net and refuse to disconnect from that which only brings bad news to them as they amuse themselves to death and gorge on food like substances designed to generate cravings and bad health.

And yet none dare call it conspiracy because the jingles are catchy, packages glistening and treats sweet. What if we were dead and this was actually hell? What then? Imagine, for a moment, a realm where you didn’t need to kill to live (because everything is sentient) and people weren’t suffering as they fronted on the web their lives were perfect with all types of image building and manipulation. A place of pure consciousness where you and the Prime were identical and the divide of space time didn’t exist. This is, was and will be your life and to this you are dead. Or asleep and dozing in this land of illusion where confusion and delusion are instilled from an early age to ensure that shell of Adulteration placed around the strength of Inner Sense keeps your Soul hemmed into the whole human thing, from one life to the next, thanks to the heady mix of desire and ignorance hence Know thy Self is the best medicine.

Aren’t you wondering, just for a minute, whats behind the screen and the world that is hid as well as the false one pulled over your eyelids as the tower fenced you in like your own slice of hell in a shell that seems heaven sent as it stops you from feeling that which you won’t allow your Self to believe is truly happening to make wearing the flesh and walking around a planet possible.

The Game of Souls has you, my friend.

Till we meet again