Man is pulled in many directions by both forces outside and within. Each come with their own imperative and intent for what they wish to achieve but what none of them will say nor admit (and actually perish the thought entering your awareness) is that they work by deception which makes you think their wish is your commandment. Like a genie in the flesh. Far more mundane than the alleged fairy tale but the pieces all fit and the script is flipped for your unfinite conscious is hyper-conducted by the carbon based instrument known as the Earthday Suit in order for you to imperience the holographic symphony known as the Game of Souls.
Now, I know what you’re thinking “What a load of BS. I’m a man, flesh and blood, consciousness is caused by the firing of neurons in my head that give rise to experience etc.. etc.. etc…” and I’d like to remind you there was a time when the plebs believed as fervently in bloodletting and leeches as well. See how that worked out for them and take a moment to comprehend what I said because that is literally the way it is and its very easy to prove to yourself.
Go ahead, think about nothing. At least give it an attempt and see how long you can maintain the silence before many different impulses clamoring to draw your attention to so many spurious things wrestle the little bit of will you have left wherever it says and notice how smoothly you go along with it. Like a fish that was, at one moment, swimming in the sea and saw something twinkling and thought “I like the look of this” and next thing it knows its mouth is ripped as its fighting against the hook which lodged in and now directs its presence.
Thing is, for them its physical and even though they fell for the trick which is used by fishermen as they know the lure excites their awareness and can be used to disguise their true intent which is the capture of their presence which they duly rebel against because of what it signifies in terms of freedom. Humans Witness the same thing but it takes place in a different realm but the process is identical as we’re torn, that way then this, running off after a whim which, once its at the wheel, selects from the appropriate resources that are tucked away in your subconscious in order to make its needs real and aligned with what you think is your intent when in reality you’re little more than a meat puppet and these are strings I’m making you feel because once you do you’ll perceive them in action and realize the simple truth that leads to freedom:
“If you can see it you don’t have to be it“.
These states are a mask and you are one without a face. What an interesting juxtaposition as the implications for the race are immense but then we are caught up in something that is a strange blend of physical bliss and spiritual wickedness and it takes a lot of discernment to separate the water from milk and return to the pure substance because then, and only then, can you truly claim to be present as that is what it takes to unwrap the gift that many Souls came and played the Game without ever touching as they wandered around thinking “Is this it?” as they took in the mathematically encoded precision hinted at by the Sun and Moon having a seemingly identical size when one is far distant and yet they are positioned in a way that makes them seem relative.
How is that a hint? I hear you think. Simple. Everything is. In ancient times they perceived different as the Game was on another stage than it is current as we’re living in an era of global deception where the wicked have placed themselves as the heads of state and thus they set the tone which dictates the Game of Souls and its all as intended. Back then it was different, this is the origin of the alleged myth know as the Fall of Man and its well documented in the texts and legends of indigenous species around the planet. Thats partially the reason why those of light colored flesh tried their best to kill them and their culture under the guise of religion but thats something we’ll get into later. For now consider this:
If I were to offer you freedom and and then placed a ball and chain around your leg you would think it quite ridiculous as the presence of the action contradicts the experience. And yet if all around you people were flapping their arms in joy saying “I fly, I fly, I am filled with spirit” as they simultaneously dragged around their leg you would more than certainly acquiesce. This is illustrated well in the tale of the Emperor and his invisible threads because one thing can be made to seem another if it is stated with authority and followed along wholeheartedly with the plebs. Thing is the bare cheeked effrontery of this entire premise is exposed instantly when it pours into the awareness of one who still possess Inner Sense and that kindles an awakening in the rest who suddenly become aware of how ridiculous the entire thing is.
That is how quickly beliefs can shift when one realizes the nature of deception but if no one had said a thing the naked king would still be strutting his stuff in front of (false) self deceiving who Thunk they know best. All because he fell for a trick designed to pander to his egoic aspects by a bunch of traveling grifters who wanted to take him for all they can get and have a good laugh as the same time as well.
Do you know what The Trickster is? One of the oldest legends that runs around the planet in so many cultures since way back when is that of a mischievous being whose tales always had a twist and what you got wasn’t what you expected. Not quite human, but in this realm nonetheless, its presence hints strongly about the collective unconscious from which such Patterns arise and then are dressed in the clothes of the culture of whom does Witness and then repeat, mouth to ear, for generations of the adventures witnessed by their forebearers as both warnings and entertainment about the nature of the realm they’re within. The things people did before TV sets kicked in, eh? Tales of fairies, little people, genies in lamps, leprechauns, ghosts and demons as well as countless other scamps. It seems the entire globe was awash with what we’d now call a supernatural occurrence, but we are too modern and wise with our phones in hand that can answer any question we ask in an instant, allow us to see the dead and living equally quick as well as be able to leap immense distances just with a finger click.
Stripped of all context and told to those who live underground in the future due to the planet drifting closer to Sun as the true cause of global warming makes its presence felt, the humans that survive would think that as fanciful as other legends and that they aren’t as stupid to believe in such antics because reality as it stands says something totally different.
Fish don’t see the water they swim in. The presence that sustains them renders itself invisible to their awareness. Humans are much the same as the cultural milieu of the moment is, in effect, so obvious that it needs not discussing. Much like all skeletons look the same when stripped of flesh when we look back at cultures dead we see not the beautifully shaped leg, the eyes that danced with fire and laugh which caressed the ears of all who Witness the magnificent radiant presence of those who once lived. No, instead we see a bare bones outline that lacks all that made them them. To make things worse we the interpret and distort the fragmented tales which survive with our present day awareness and expectations therein which often changes the entire thing by placing the tail before the head. Yet no one from then can pop up and correct because if they did they’d cower behind your sofa as a lion prowled on your TV set because they would take for real what you know is an illusion and yet you are fooled by things they saw perfectly well, hence the Trickster “myth” that we shall now into delve as it offers many hints about the present moment that otherwise make no sense:
Consider that man has a few levels to his awareness. Like a house has a basement, a main floor and attic as well. Now lets imagine that few people look within what is not their living environment because they are too caught up in the experience of making that as pretty as it can be as it reflects aspects of themselves and their experience in this realm. The basement has a great skill of being to arrange itself so whenever they wish to dump something they just open the door and throw it into its depth, usually never to be seen again as there is so much to consume, always about the new, keeping up with the you know whos as they do what they do and people run around and generally don’t have a clue. The attic on the other hand is never even stepped in, nor do people know what it means, why its there or how to even get there as its door is high up in the ceiling of the floor in which they live and needs a special kind of handle to twist that they’ve never been able to find since they moved in so they generally ignore it. Know where its kept? Yep, in the basement. Ironic isn’t it that to ascend one must first descend but that is a common trait in this realm and all factors of imperience because enlightenment comes by taking your awareness into the darkness to Witness what lies within because then you find what you didn’t even know you were seeking and this in turn leads to a change in the needs and wants you thought you possessed as you’re refined by an alchemical process that turns to gold what once was made of lead, thanks in part to your efforts and the rest to due to the structure of this realm.
The man who stands in the basement looks around and bears Witness at what he sees. He moved in so long ago and simply can’t believe he never came to check the depths of what he possessed as the floorplan is immense. Way bigger than the space he rents and lives in and there are so many things. Glancing down at the handle he feels in his palm it instantly reveals that it is the key to the attic he’s also never seen and wondered about even less in reality. He calls to his wife but she says she’s busy so he walks up the steps and says:
“You’ve got to look at what I’ve seen”.
“It simply doesn’t appeal to me”.
“What? You don’t want to know about where we live? Look, look at this” he says as he shows her the handle “And I’m supposed to know what that is? It looks ugly and doesn’t match the image of the home which I’ve built. Why don’t you be a good boy and throw it back in the basement? And, whats that smell? Its absolutely disgusting. Here, give me that and you go and take a bath you’re stinking up the place. Stay out of the basement” she says as she brushes him off and throws the handle back to its place and goes about her day.
In this tale we are offered hints about the nature of life as well as curiosity, intent, free will and the general urge to fit in to the dominating way of Thunking. This is why the hardest thing to be is yourself because no one else is and thus you being authentic sticks out and contradictions the fake real they wish to live and they can’t have this as it makes them feel uncomfortable.
Now lets go next door to where the one called The Hermit lives. No one has ever seen him. No one has ever been within. Its obvious someone lives there as there is a palpable presence but as for the man himself, neither hide nor hair is perceived by those in the realm of Three D at least because his main floor is the basement. From the moment he moved in he didn’t care about what the neighbors did, the latest gossip or trends, meeting up for a drink and other social things. No, he had a whole nother imperative because there was something in his depths that was calling to him and said “I’m in the basement, waiting for your presence and I come bearing gifts”. First thing he did when he gained awareness was move his living quarters down then started looking around and, like his neighbor, was astounded that the place was immense. It really made no sense because if every house had such a basement then there must be some type of timespace distortion in effect because the real estate itself from porch to landing was tiny in comparison to this, the subterranean realm he dwelled in.
He examined the shelves, everything was neatly filed and labelled. Not only moments of his own life that he could touch and imperience like they were brand new but also other points of views and clues to questions he hadn’t yet the gumption to ask but would do. He picked up some ink that was labeled “Essence of first kiss” and immediately the lights in the basement dimmed as new images flitted in as a holographic Pattern caused a shift in his relative awareness and then, it all vanished and he was literally a kid. He felt her skin, his nervousness, smelt her hair and all the rest. Not then, not for a moment would he think he was a middle aged man sitting by himself in a basement clutching an item which was just a pointer at greater things and thus its form was irrelevant in a land where frequency is king and its all about resonance.
A lifetime in an instant for when he released his grip and was back where he expected with a mind racing as it stitched together the implications of what he’d Witnessed. He looked at the clock. It was three minutes past six. Literally a hand full of moments had elapsed and yet you could not tell him that he wasn’t back then and present. “My, my, my” he thinks “Moving here certainly was interesting”.
I’m sure you can imagine why the people thought he was a hermit. After all, if you’d discovered this would you have left and spent your days running to and fro distracting yourself from the gift that was buried at a depth and yet could access any time you wanted, as you filled your life and times with meaningless distractions which you think you wanted but only because everyone said “This is why we are here in this realm” and you never thought to question and did as instructed.
“I wonder why that weirdo hermit never leaves his lair” said the wife next door as she chose a new pair of chandeliers that she thinks would create a great impression on her dinner party guests later in the year. “Why don’t you go over and see him?” she says to her husband “become his friend, hear his tale because that way we’ll have something new to say at the table, something they’ve never heard before and we’ll be the ones everyone wants to fawn over and coo as they copy what we do“.
The husband is glad to and is mildly confused when he comes to knock on his door and reads a note which says “Adam, I’ve been waiting and knew you’d come check. The door is open and I’m in the basement”. With heart racing he peers inside and sees a home just like the one he left, there is little difference. Matter of fact the chandeliers his wife was looking at are already present. “What the hell?” he whispers at the sheer weirdness of all of this as he heads over to the basement and there he sees standing a man whose age he can’t guess beside saying he’s younger than him which is strange because he doesn’t think thats who he remembers moving in. “Catch” he says with a mischievous grin as he throws him a bottle of ink and in an instant he is once again a kid Witnessing the nervous thrill of his first kiss…
Reality clicks back in and the first words out of his lips are “What the hell just happened? How did you know I was coming? Why do you live in the basement and how come your house looks just like the one I’ve left and how in the heck did holding a bottle of ink make me time travel in a way that felt so real that right now feels fake? What the hell is happening?”. He feels himself start to shake as a odd melange of emotions reverberate through his state. “Where do you think you are?” says the man who could be twenty eight or forty six. “Where do you think you’ve been? What is the nature of what you call real? Have you ever tested it or have you lived your life in ignorance? Matter of fact don’t answer quick. Take a hold of this” he says as he presses a pic of his wife into his other hand and the ink does its thing again.
Suddenly he is back at his first kiss except this time its from the girls perspective and he feels and Witnesses everything as she thinks “This is my man, I’m going to marry him” even though they were both school kids. And thats exactly what happened. He feels something shift and notices the objects have been removed from his fingertips and he’s back in the basement.
“What in the heck is happening? How do you know all of this?”. “Me? I don’t do a thing my friend, its these objects on the shelves that all contain little labels and hints. That drawer over there contains pictures of whoever you wish, go and give it a try. Just think of someone and open it and lying on top will be a pic of them. Combine it with that ink which resonates to first kiss or that bottle over there which is birth of first kid or that stapler which grants insight into another boring day at the office and you can go bear Witness. Pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
Adams head is reeling but he also can’t deny what he’s seen. He has a million questions but suddenly wants to get back to his basement to see if this is just a one off deal or if his own home reveals such a cosmic treasure trove of treats that make him question the nature of reality. “I’ve, I’ve got to go”. “Yes, I know, tell your wife I said hello and you’re both welcome any time although I do suspect you’ll have other more pressing engagements for the rest of your lives that will take precedence” he says, with a grin.
“Back so soon?” Eve says. “Whats wrong? Was he not in?”. Adam looks at the clock and notices he’s been gone for barely a moment. “Come with me” he says and grabs his wife by the hand and marches her to the basement. “Oh, not this again. Adam when will you get it, we’re here to entertain and entertain ourselves no one ever goes down there so who cares whats within. Besides like I told you it stinks”. But her protests fall on ears which are deaf in this instance as he knows what she’ll see is simply for the best and can’t be expressed in words, only imperienced directly in the flesh and the paradigm shift this brings.
“Catch” she hears and thinks “Who the hell is that guy and what is he doing in our basement” as instinctively her hands grip the bottle of ink thrown at her head. You know the rest…
In this example the ground floor we live in represents our mundane every day third dimensional awareness which is underpinned by the basement. The treasures of which are actually what builds the upper level and its resources are immense. You can think of it as the collective unconscious and even though what is contains is the same, simple generic Patterns which we fill out with our own imperience and make it personal. This is the magic of archetypes and why all around the world, since back when, if you were to say “Draw me an image of a woman who casts spells and does those sort of things” you’d see familiar object kick in like the pointy hat, broomstick, cauldron and cat as well. Interesting, isn’t it? Did you know why Egyptians venerated the cat and held it in such stead? They say it sees not only this world but also the next. This is something you’ve seen countless times but the truth has never clicked when you watch it suddenly stop cleaning itself and stare at something invisible which walks through one wall across the room and out the next and then it goes back to preening. Is the kitty a schizophrenic or is there something about those shiny lenses that allow it to see light bent at a ninety degree angle and placed on top of this realm which intersects and is yet wholly invisible to those attuned to live in five sensory Earthday Suits which are filled to the brim with what to Thunk and thus edit and filter imperience to see only what they expect?
That is what dwells in the attic along with the Higher Aspect of Self and now you comprehend why you can only access the heights by first scaling the depths because they are in effect the same thing as binary opposites and yet most choose to dwell in the middle but are not Centered in Self and thus miss the entire point of the Game of Souls and what it truly means to be human as you are so more than the flesh. But if you’ve never looked within then its quite easy to miss it as a life spent in the tireless quest of distraction and finding novel ways to fill that quiet nagging sense of emptiness that needs to impress other inmates with the latest trinket or bauble, to be the belle of the ball or king ding a ling whose name does ring and people respect are all mere, but hugely profitable for those who spin the web, distractions designed to keep you from realizing the true nature of Self. I’ll put it to you like this:
You’ve won a trip, all expenses paid to a top of the range luxury spa where you can rest and be pampered to exist in idyllic bliss and release the stress and tension of modern existence. Everything is designed to be perfect but before you can begin the process there is an immense pool within which you must swim. You, step up to the surface and, out of habit, place your foot in to check the temperature and, what do you know, its perfect so you’re about to dive in and get on with the rest of the trip.
Except below the surface something else happens. The toe you dipped in along with the rest of the foot as well suddenly gains sentience as the waters cause you to forget your true nature and submit fully to the imperience. Its no longer attached to a leg which links to a hip and torso where the brain sends out signals that move it that way and this. No. For that sole now is fully independent and, at least from its frame of reference, is responsible for the moves as it sways that way and this and take in experience “Why hello, handsome” says another swimmer who swims. “Come join me” she says and seductively flits off with a grin and you’re more than happy to chase with the intent of conquest. I’m sure you can fill in the rest because for the foot which is dipped in to the Waters of Forgetfulness everywhen else doesn’t exist. All there is is whats in the moment and thus actions motivated from a higher plane ie the poolside where you’re standing with the intent to check the temp and then got on with the rest of this is no longer accessible to your awareness. And besides there is so much going on in the water, as the nymph illustrates well, plus the time dilation is real because what for the whole you is but a brief moment just to check before extracting and then choosing whether to plunge fully in or reconsider the nature of all this and what it represents translates to a lifetime of thrills and spills as the foot swims on the watery equivalent of a treadmill and logs up miles and miles of imperience that make it all feel so real. That is the power of consciousness and now you get why I said it isn’t created in your head or by the flesh as that simply modulates its presence.
Not for nothing do you tread upon your sole, or Soul if you truly see and there is also a great significance in the fact that all of the nerves and organs of the body are mapped underneath your tootsies and thus you can access the whole from the part if you truly perceive. We are fractal beings in a realm which is built upon resonance via Self similar Patterns of coherence that depend upon your attention to decode their signals and draw meaning hence its an onion thing as there are levels to all of this and you, your true Self, rests firmly in the mid hence the present is a gift. Dare ye unwrap it by Knowing the Ledge?
That is in effect the nature of the attic and whats contained within. Who you are both at this moment and beyond this realm. The land of the Higher Self. It once was said to picture this like two birds sitting in the self same tree, one eats the sweet and bitter fruits of reality whilst the other looks on dispassionately which means none of this is what it seems but if you’ve spent your entire life looking from only one frame of reference as you attempt to evade the bitter and chase the sweet then you’re nothing but a Victim of polarity as what you feel so intensely is, in effect, illusory. But such is the nature of the Game. It was designed this way because even though you have the key to the basement few dare to venture underneath and of those who do fewer still choose to leave the grips of something so interesting in order to ascend whilst in the flesh as they head to the attic and the Waters of Forgetfulness drip and suddenly they remember who they are, where and when and the implications are immense.
Plato spoke of this when he penned the allegory of the Cave and sadly nothing has changed since then because enlightenment is a personal event whilst ignorance is a collective precedent. Know fine well that there are those invested in the four day carnival we call existence with a fierce devotion that they have no wish to relent as this three ring circus in the dimension of the dead allows them to live on as it forms their basement in a sense. Oh yes, there’s level to this. Nothing from nothing may leave nothing, my friend, but if you take a fireball that floats above a lake which is seated placidly you’ll see water turn to steam with a guaranteed certainty. Now lets imagine for a moment that steam is condensed suddenly and then captured in a machine which drops its degrees rapidly to cause it to freeze and you’ll see it is neither the sun, nor the lake but an entirely different beast who will, due to the nature of free will and the ability to Self perceive, wonder immediately “Who is me? Where am I? What is the nature of reality?“.
Now us, from where we sit, in the attic relatively far from the playas in this scene, would grasp instantly that that which is frozen as the result of this process is exactly the same as the lake it left and the presence of the heat unleashed a chemical reaction which allowed it to be extracted and now it exists in a lower vibrational holding Pattern thanks to the chill. We’d also comprehend how, in its ignorance, it would be scared to death of melting as it thinks its current form is the all of everything thanks to the seeming solidity of its temporal reality that possess length, depth and breadth but doesn’t recollect the previous steps that made them like this and turned their inherent brilliance into a state of numbed dumbed downness and told them “This is it!”.
The Game of Souls has you, my friend.
You in the flesh, at this very moment, and that Earthday Suit you wear that hyper-conducts your unfinite consciousness are the Self same thing as the sentient snowpeople as you stroll through this realm but have never been down to the basement, don’t know the attic exists or whom stands on the edge of the pool with a toe dipped into the Waters of Forgetfulness that makes all this possible… But the thing is this:
Before you started tuning in to this wavelength you weren’t aware of any of the concepts within. Even as you read you were thinking “Where is this leading and what does that have to do with anything?” and yet as you progressed you felt dull embers of sensation within start to flicker once again as they were hit with the familiar newness that generates recollection as you feel, note I said feel, not think, “I’m sure I know this“. That is the lost Soul remembering a legend that is more than what it suspects, my friend. The Game of Souls is afoot!
Till we meet again
