June 20th, 2009 - Upon Which I See Angels, Demons, and the Tetragrammaton

Most people have the assumption that their thoughts are their own, the methods they use to reason and feel are their own. When they feel, they believe the feeling is coming from inside of themselves. When they sort something out logically, they feel that sorting and dividing capability is coming from inside. Why bother to think differently about it? People are generally discouraged to consider their own mental capacities in a different fashion, anyway. Saying to yourself, “Are these thoughts I am having my own?” we are told, leads down that slippery slope known as schizophrenia. I’ve approached this question without assuming I am mad, however, probably because of my background as a programmer and my fear that I and everyone else's minds are mere toys of those in higher seats of power, either on a physical level of existence or otherwise. We have a firm belief that man thinks differently than the animals, for instance, but are unsure of what ’different methods’ are being utilized in our inner selves that other animals don’t have access to while they do their thinking. We never really stop to consider whether those different methods are even our own. Are these different methods manufactured by man’s consciousness, or perhaps borrowed? If those thought processes are manufactured and owned by human consciousness, why can’t animals manufacture the same methods of thinking as well over time to build spaceships and cities to compete with our own?

Let us consider then, just for the sake of argument, the way we think is not internally manufactured but instead has been implanted somehow and is merely made available for use. In such a world, the thoughts themselves aren’t necessarily created through egotistical conscious effort, but are instead channeled through the will of the person. The will then, is actually the tap and filter on a faucet, but not the water itself. Man thus feels he himself is being logical, but in actuality, the ’logicalness’ of his thoughts are being streamed out of him, through him, allowing him to see and communicate using the axioms of logic even if this logic does not belong to his own mental capacities. He could just as easily, at any time, stream emotion or creativity in a completely contradictory fashion. Whether it be logic or creativity or what not really doesn’t matter—these processes are not owned by the channeler. Instead, they are being decided to be used by the channeler and does not make up an ounce of who or what they really are. People become emotionally attached to their streams, believing it is themselves, but a much keener eye will realize it is not—it couldn’t be, because the streams can be switched at any time, and if we are to switch them, wouldn’t we have become lost in the shuffle?

You might think this isn’t much of a difference between channeling or generating thoughts and so it hardly matters to you, but it actually has a number of philosophical implications, one of which is whether or not man is a vessel for a higher power, or if he himself is that higher power. Obviously this is the dramatic argument taking place in most world religions. If man is just channeling logic through him like water, he does not have the capability to create something out of nothing as logic already exists as an actual thing outside of himself, albeit on some metaphysical plane controlled by God, and man only has the capability to express it just as he can express any other stream. But if he is generating logic through his own will, he has the capability of creating something out of nothing, so he is ’like’ God, the prime mover.

In a number of my own writings, I’ve explored the capability we all have that we are making this place up, that somehow through our own shared perceptions, like the stock market, we give the words we say its reality, its context, without the need for a prime mover to oversee the functioning of it all. This vision of life resembles the free market in which there is no manipulation, and the price of the Dow, for instance, is true, because that is what everyone collectively believes. Mob rules reality. In such a world, fairies will only exist if enough people believe in them, and they will cease to exist if enough people do not believe in them. Reality is what we, combined, make it out to be. Right is what the majority of the people believe, and wrong is what the majority of the people do not believe. In such a world, we do not channel any puristic concept at all and there is no metaphysical plane that we do not have direct access to—instead, we generate that metaphysical plane ourselves.

There is, however, an alternative view that we do not live in a completely free market reality at all because those prices (the substance of things) are intentionally created and manipulated elsewhere outside of the free market by the reality kings--the fat cats thus get an abnormal share where the common man loses out. The fat cats are in a closed society that do the real generating of the prices of things like gods, and the common men are in the ’free market’ which are pretty much given the leftover scraps—at a price. The fat cat never loses—the common man always does. The fat cat can thus predict the future prices because he creates them, and the others cannot because the future is a blind spot for him—a blind spot placed there by those who are in a higher seat of power. Common man can therefore only express the price of things, not create the price of things directly.

The ’free market’ view seems to state that we generate our reality collectively and as such we are our own thoughts and are not channeling anything. We make logic what it is, we make creativity what it is. The ’closed market fat cat’ view, on the other hand, seems to state that we are merely utilizing these things existing on a higher plane, made by God or otherwise (themselves, they hope). But why are fat cats so lucky? Why are common men so unlucky? It is difficult to understand how, in a free market, fat cats can get fat without a manipulation of some sort.

Which is correct? A blending, obviously, but the choice between the two views becomes even more intriguing when you realize that many of the fat cats in the system are occultists of some sort, in that they actively practice ritualistic behavior, which is almost completely against the concept of it being an open market system, or an ’open reality’ system. Why nod your head to a higher power when you have all the power? Occultists come straight out of the mystery schools of the upper echelons of society probably all the way back to Atlantis, and those upper echelons have the most power in the world today. But does their power come from an external source because they understand the most about this reality, or an internal one where they are generating their own power? Do they channel this power, or do they make it up?

Regardless of who you believe is ultimately in charge, it is at least curious to explore the possibility that we are channeling modes of thought that we do not own, almost like we are executing programs, and not generating it. If we are channeling, there is nothing new under the sun, and we are merely given the capability to perceive this world through mental faculties handed to us. This is the view of Solomon. If we are generating, there can be much that is new under the sun, and distinctly different cultures should be cropping up all over the place, mentally or otherwise, including things such as pixies and unicorns. This is the--well, Timothy Leary perspective. I personally have enjoyed the Timothy Leary perspective more so than the Solomon perspective because it is more natural to me, and the faculties that have been given to me at birth sort of stacked the odds in Timothy Leary’s favor…but if I can step outside of myself and my own inclinations, the channeling perspective of Solomon is more, well, realistic.

The exploration of channeling and what it means to answer to a higher power has become well defined in our culture in trillions of different ways that are directly accessible in every vocation known to man. It doesn’t matter which you choose—all bases are covered—and those who are most successful in a vocation depends upon how well or how pure that person has control of the mental faculties available to him, and how well he is able to combine those faculties in a sort of beautiful synthesis. The difference between the common man and someone from the mystery schools, however, seems to be how well defined those channels have become and how pure the different modes of thought can be funneled through a person’s consciousness. The Illuminati of the renaissance, for instance, are known for this. A “renaissance man” was the equivalent of an ultra-powerful jack of all trades. He would write poetry, create books on mathematics, and paint in his spare time while holding court in his living room for nobility while commenting on the almondness of a brand of French wine—spoken in Latin. The renaissance man didn’t run around trying to invent unicorns, but instead, he simply attempted to utilize knowledge from the symbolism found in the mystery schools and build upon what was already there. His activities were all considered studies in which he was not attempting to say anything new, but instead trying to synthesize things through his mind which are already here.

Those who have become successful during such activities could take two very distinct routes—the “right-hand” renaissance man channeled the elements as an expression of his love for God, calling himself a mere vessel and his abilities a gift from heaven. His statements attempted to remove his ego from the equation, claiming all works were done selflessly. The corrupt or “left-hand” renaissance man learned all there was to know about channeling and, instead of using it to express the glory of God, claimed it for his own, infusing it with his own ego. The upright power structure ultimately became infected by the downright as it was impossible to maintain purity as man has free will, and all systematic corruption has pretty much stemmed from this secondary group. Since both apparently should exist, it is obviously extremely difficult to sort out the chaff from the wheat. Ultimately the choice on how to live is completely yours, as it was theirs. Do you want to be an upright channeler, or do you want to be a degenerate who discovers the truth, and uses it for base gratifications through inversion? Regardless, you must study the elements that make up these pure mental faculties we are using on a day to day basis, read elements encoded in works from the mystery schools—all the while hold it at arms length, unsure of whether or not it was written and shared among true ’initiates’ of God, or shared among the initiates of, well, something else--because ultimately it is probably a combination of the two, both of whom have a complete understanding of what it is in particular they are doing.

In both instances, whether used by the individual for the glorification of this universe as he found it or the glorification of an individual himself, we have the Tetragrammaton—God—the originator of all things. I see him/it/he/she/we/they most often as a spinning series of tetrahedrons, holographically influencing the meaning of all other pieces of itself, much like a diamond refracting light and forming a series of rainbows. Although the immediate structure of the universe that we have access through using our senses shows us something finite, the refraction of light upon the surface of the Tetragrammaton through synthesis is actually infinite and can be used to infuse any number of words and structures with meaning forever. Picture this Tetragrammaton (I call it the hologram) as a pair of glasses that brings focus to the world around you, and it is a pair of glasses that you must wear lest everything else outside of you resemble little more than a fuzzy mess (the wave state of reality). It is thus perception itself. Light is the source of everything, but to give light its various definitions and frequencies it must interact with something, and that something in which it is interacting with is the implanted structure of the Tetragrammaton you are using to perceive everything in the universe in a particular way. We are but wells which allow the variations of this light to find intense expression through our own practice of faculties in such things as art, literature, music, beauty, and aesthetics. How deep your well goes and how many different variations of light you can reflect out into the world depends upon how well you study your craft.

Mystics from the mystery schools seem to have been enchanted with this process of enhancing their understandings and have tried to understand the variations of the Tetragrammaton in as potent of a manner as possible. They felt that if they could define these differing modes of thought (refraction), they could use the various methods to get what they wanted in life—in other words, force the world that was being perceived through the hologram to assemble itself in a certain way that appealed to them specifically.

The different refractions of light, or modes of thinking, or processes, were given names. To the christian mystic, they would have been the names of the angels and the demons. Each angel would be a puristic example of a process that the mystic could channel. Each demon, the same. I used to be relatively confused when reading occult literature. I asked myself, why in the world would someone pray to God just before ’summoning’ a demon? In addition, there were warnings issued by these mystics, stating that the process of summoning a demon should not be given to ’the profane.’ When I ran across the fat cat philosophy of controlling the future for their own benefit, I realized who, in particular they were referring to. A part of ascension is to know that materialistic faculties are just as much a part of God as any other. If you have control of those faculties and use it for the glorification of pre-existing structures (God) as opposed to trying to put a saddle on it and ride it like a beast, you are taking the right-hand path.

The mystics understood that they must “bind” these thought processes, and they could only do so by understanding in very potent and puristic detail how those processes function. If they failed to ’bind’ them, the mystic would be the one used instead of the reverse. A mystic would summon a demon which represented a method of seeing the world—destructively, constructively, creatively, logically, all a part of the Tetragrammaton—and claim authority over that archetype. Once this commanding role had been taken by the mystic, he was free to utilize and control it. Tapping in to one of these methods without symbolic ’binding’ protection ended up with the mystic becoming obsessed and addicted to a given demon or angel (or mode of thought), causing them to become little more than a mindless vessel for the singular realized activities of that supposed supernatural being. It would be like a faucet getting stuck and they would have no ability to shut it off. Without knowledge of the power of such beings, one would be incapable of controlling it and thus mindlessly fall prey to it, so they attempted to purify their understanding through occult (and masonic) apprenticeships before attempting such rituals.

This colorful scenario is played out on a day to day basis in people’s minds around you without the need to summon. Everyone, whether they like it or not, can be seen as a mere vessel that is either in control of these immortal angels or demons finding expression through them (flows and frequencies), or is controlled by them like a puppet. Logic, for instance, if understood in its purist form, is a system of perception, and that system of perception, to the mystic, is given a name so the mystic knows when, where, and how that supernatural being (method of thought) is finding expression through him. Through the use of magic squares, the mystic could then take the word ’logic’ (in a much more ancient language, of course), and break it down into all of its variations: LOGIC, OGCIL, GICLO, ICLOG, CLOGI, and as long as they understood the fundamental meaning of the letters and numbers, they could further draw out meanings of these variations of LOGIC. Only those who had bound the demon called ’logic’ through the Tetragrammaton square could they fully utilize its power without being seduced and consequently addicted to it. It is without a doubt easy for you to think of a number of individuals around you who can’t see their hand in front of their face in many instances simply because they are addicted to one mode of thinking or another. You, consequently, can become addicted to emotion, or one of the other sub-angels or sub-demons of emotion as defined by the magic square. Only you know what method you use more than any to do your thinking, and it is that method of thinking which in 100% of the cases has a mystical counterpart that has been defined by the mystery schools.

Furthermore, control itself (of angelic beings or otherwise) is often associated with a mixed balance, and balance requires a number of things—most notably that all elements (modes of thought) have an equal voice. Everything has a time and place, and those who are in control of their faculties assure that everything does have a time and place. As a result, society finds it much easier to relinquish control to them, because you know that your voice (which is really not yours but one of the archetypes you use the most often) has been heard and you don’t have to say anything more.

At some point in human history, a few have apparently come to this conclusion and, as such, have incorporated extreme ritualistic behavior into their life, ensuring that they control the reins instead of one of the archetypes individually seeking expression through them. Through their ritualistic behaviour, they hope that all of these variations as has been defined by the occult sciences find expression-- since they give all of them a piece of the action, they take on the honorific role of living like a ’god’—from whence everything, combined, originated, and to which everything glorifies. They thus become ’god-like’ and it is quite telling that those on the planet who utilize the most power have become just that. They thus listen to astrologers, numerologers, freemasons, Qabbalastic and Hermetic scholars to define ways to break up their actions and thoughts so these angelic and demonic beings know who is in control, the master craftsmen of the planet—even if they are ultimately not in control at all. They get as close as possible to the sun, but without ever being able to see what lies beyond.

Angels and demons cannot be bound forever,however, so the wrongs given to those who have bound them will eventually be corrected. 2012 perhaps? Those who believe they are doing the riding will eventually be the ridden. It is a an escape hatch in the system of this “demon-haunted” world. The animals who are considered lowly beasts by the left-handed enlightened shall rise up somehow, build those spaceships, fill them with the parasitic king rats, and blast them directly towards the sun to give them what they ultimately know is coming straight for them. This is the ’flipping of the poles’ or the ’many’ taking over the seat of power of the ’one.’ I do not know when or how—all I know is that it is inevitable. All those valves and faucets out there hidden inside of us will just decide enough is enough as the universal energy is coalesced like a massive weight at the top of the pyramid, and as the result of their gravity, it shall flip the whole structure on its head. I hope all of us will be here to watch the show.

June 12th, 2009 - Upon Which I Use The Eye of the Illuminati

I’ve been involved in this field since 1998 when I first set up paranormalnews.com. At the time, Usenet was rich with cryptic text documents filled with mystery and intrigue. Usenet itself was set up by people with a fundamental distrust of authority, many of who, like me, were afraid to come out of their house, so finding the information that was being passed in and out of electronic bulletin boards during the 80s was an absolutely fascinating adventure as it was completely unfiltered, unprocessed, unstructured. It almost felt illegal to read. I’d spend hours combing through one document after another, reading of underground bases, advanced technology, cover ups, military manuals, alien beings hell-bent on destroying and/or saving mankind, suppressed Tesla technology—and I read all of it unsure of whether or not I was processing an amazingly realistic science fiction script or legitimate truth with a factual foundation.

I originally was too intrigued by the unfolding storyline that I couldn’t even bother to take notes. I felt like there was this massive stomach in my brain that was lapping up an oasis of life-giving water as my schooled education had left me starving for something with substance, something which needed to be truly figured out as opposedly to just rotely memorized. Many people would probably find this an irony, as those involved within the world of conspiracies, ghosts, and UFOs are generally considered to be so open-minded that they might as well be reclassified as vacuous. Wasn’t this mindset exactly what the school system had been set up to prevent? But I didn’t care—there was something important inside—but what?

Eventually I reached a point of saturation, however, where the text documents became less and less fascinating as they began to contradict. In one text document, you would read about the greys and how they were an evil race of beings with no emotion—in another document you would read that the greys were there to preserve biological specimens of man to reseed another planet, which didn’t sound so bad to me. In another document you would read how aliens are actually demonic entities from hell, and in the next you would read how they are angelic beings who only want what is good for man. Each document that contradicted was written passionately where the author conveying it expressed how it had affected his lifestyle, forced him to move his family to Colorado, or some variation. These contradictions eventually drove me to lose my appetite in the field, and there were large periods of time where my website was lacking updates, as I generally did not know where to go with all the contradictions. I knew there was something important in these documents—but what? And should I write about bad aliens? Should I write about good aliens? Should I just post everything I found with a ‘you decide’ disclaimer that television so loves to use? That was the easy way out, and a part of me didn’t want that disclaimer on my site—I wanted to be the one who actually knew what to do with the information pouring in from every angle. But if I claimed to know, wouldn’t I be no different than those who ALSO claimed to know?

This internal inconsistency in myself would probably drive most people mad, and many people who I have run across over the years have assumed that it has, indeed, done just that. But given the fact that this is the only mind I have which has an innate sense of distrust for all types of authority, I refused to give up. There was an answer to my dilemma. But what was it? What was truth? Which elements of the world of the paranormal should I explore, and which should I leave behind? Should I chase the conspiracy path? Should I chase the UFO path, the military path? All of them? Which elements were dangerous to mankind, and which ones were good? And what did good mean? Submissive? Commanding? Illuminated?

There have been many published researchers (collectors?) who have come along which have drawn completely fascinating all-encompassing pictures of what is going on in the field and why there are so many different contradictory beliefs, but even these never felt right. David Icke, Jim Marrs, Linda Moulton Howe, William Bramley, William Cooper, etc…When I ran across the term ‘disinformation’ for the first time in their writings, however, I rolled my eyes, because it was used to create an ‘other’ pile which didn’t stick to the narrative of understanding of the author. It was info! But this other pile, I didn’t like to have. I wanted the whole thing to be complete. Why? So I would know how to live, how to act, the person to be, and understand existence itself without fear. All these ‘other’ piles complicated matters too much, yet I didn’t want to throw any babies out with the water, which is what most people do. I had initially thought that Usenet itself WAS the other pile. But here I was back where I started from in the school system: in the midst of a tainted world filled with ulterior motives, publishing contracts, and authority figures more interested in their own bank accounts than truly sorting out the mysteries of existence.

One thing that seems to be shared amongst all theories, however, is an overwhelming sense of dread they convey, of mankind being out of control, of the corporate world pulling the strings and churning out humans as if they were cookie cutouts to be eaten, physically or metaphorically, by these monstrous creations. Regardless of theory, the insurmountable problem that man has found himself entrenched filled all these writers with hopelessness that they passed on to their readers. And after September and October of 2008, that is exactly how I felt. Everything was doomed, there was nothing we could do. The grand beast from the West had risen from its crypt and we were all about to be eaten. The best advice the conspiracy researchers themselves seemed to come up with was to grab a bullhorn and shout. For myself and my own fear of leaving the house, I just decided to drink. And as we all know, the feeling of hopelessness and despair doesn’t disappear in a bottle. It’s amplified.

Yet through the months following when it felt as if everything was about to end, I discovered something that seemed to, on the surface, contradict all of my understandings that I had gleaned over the years from Usenet and conspiracy theory: knowledge is not always power.

I started having these bizarre visualizations of an entire world in turmoil, bombs blowing people’s heads off, families being torn apart, people dying left and right of rape and thirst and starvation and blood loss—all images that have been encouraged in one way or another through my research. In the very center of this terrible hell, however, like a pocket of silence in the center of a hurricane, a single family sits who are so bloody ignorant, they continue to play kick ball with each other in the back yard, grow tomatoes, and wave to their neighbors and invite them over to share their lettuce. Big holes are tearing the community asunder, but still, grandma rocks her grandchild back and forth at night, singing lullabies and knitting sweaters. The world outside is an absolutely chaotic mess, but inside their home--pure serenity. If you were to ask them why, why they’re not paying attention goddammit!, they would just smile. They don’t know who is president, what country they live in, who owns it, or how long they have to live. They simply choose to exist, peacefully, through the simple act of not paying attention.

I was incapable of escaping this image. To me, knowledge had always been power, but here, with this image, it was not power at all, and by staring at this family in my mind, I felt as if the thin veil between this world and some sort of heaven was opened, not through the cryptic world of mystery schools and secret societies, but through pure, intentional ignorance. And when I noticed this, that constant stream of dread, doom, hopelessness and despair which I could see so clearly thanks to my years of research, suddenly imploded on itself, because I realized the most powerful defense lived within me, within everyone, hiding in the disguise of no defense at all—ignorance.

I opened my browser, deleted all rss feeds associated with the news, disconnected my cable box, removed all references to everything that was taking place around me. I cancelled all newspaper subscriptions, stopped reading magazines. I started practicing waking up in the morning and not visiting sites as opposed to waking up in the morning and visiting sites. At first, it was so difficult, much like anyone who has ever broken free of an addiction will tell you. But after a week or so went by, that feeling of ‘missing out’ was replaced by a feeling of peace and of never wanting to go back—as if I had found an answer in the most unlikely of places. That peace assisted in allowing my grasp on the neck of a beer bottle to release, and my shallow breaths to become deep once again. I felt waves of the waters of life flood into me that I hadn’t felt since elementary school where I did not know what an oil crisis was, who was at war and what they were fighting to own, or what I would do from one day to the next. I began riding my bike again, waving to neighbors, laughing when they told me tidbits of news about plane crashes and flues. I did not care. And I still don’t care. Why? Because there’s nothing I can do.

I choose to be that family in the center of the hurricane, ignorant enough to be playing the piano, rolling dice on a board game, sharing my tuffs of lettuce with the neighbors even if the world crumbles around us all. If enough of us do this, we will have robbed our oppressors of all their strength simply through our own failure to pay attention to them. If it is true that they control the problem, the reaction, then provide the solution--once you know these things, you can let it go, because you will realize that the only defense is nullification. The return to paradise. Going back to zero.

Use your attention however you see fit, not how they see fit. Why give them the ability to own your emotions, your state of mind, your interests? Unplug yourself. Shut off everything. As hopeless as you might feel in a world that’s ending---there is an escape for you and your family, and it takes absolutely no schooling whatsoever. You can be taken to a place to explore all of your interests without the heavy burden of impending doom where you can still rock your children to sleep at night in something other than a womb of destruction. The curtains have been pulled aside--something much larger than ourselves is in control. Re-instantiate culture by creating your own in this infinity of all possibility. It is so completely unpredictable to all those in charge when you do so. Know there is no death. Realize what that means—and let your hair fly through the breeze with a grin on your face that you haven’t felt in years, back when you were much wiser and knew that nothing mattered. Because nothing does when you finally let go.

May 4th, 2009 - Upon Which I Reveal My Frequency

Picture a fistful of sticks of the same length. In your grip they are long enough to extend in two directions at once--above and below your fist, in equal amounts. Each of these sticks represent a particular quality--below your fist shows the extension of qualities within you, and above your fist shows extensions of qualities outside of you. Both are joined somewhere within the fist and cannot be separated at all. That fist is your consciousness.

Now look around you. Let’s say you believe that the world is filled with lies and it is not honest enough. So what you have to do to increase the amount of honesty in the world is to push upwards on the stick which represents honesty, hence increasing the amount of honesty in the external world—above your fist. By doing so, you believe you have thus created a greater amount of honesty that was missing in the world before you arrived.

But what have you also done? By pushing upwards on the stick of honesty, you have lost the presence of that stick below your fist—your internal self. You therefore promote honesty in the world by sacrificing that same stick inside of you--your internal honesty. As you do so, more and more, you see an absence of honesty in the world—when in reality, the absence of honesty is now more prevalent within yourself, and your lack of honesty will increase and turn against you, forming a complex contradiction in your actions that you will find difficult to explain to others. Your intentions were worthy, but the results generally end up being pretty catastrophic.

This is extremely difficult to accept, as it basically says all that is wrong with the world is the equivalent of all that is wrong within our collective inner selves, and our good intentions are what turn everything sour. The missing ingredient that we see externally is actually the missing end of the stick that you have pushed up on , internally. It is the quality which is most absent from your inner life.

Now, all of these qualities have a different amount of themselves above and below your fist. Release your grip and make a horizontal line matching the location of the center of your fist. Line up the sticks, one by one, ascending externally above this line , and descending internally below this line. See the wave? That wave is your electromagnetic frequency. The problems that you see define your structure. Ultimately there is nothing to ‘fix’ so much as there is a way to act and be. And that frequency that makes up who you are, that makes up all of us together as one, can change as well—if you and I let it.

Eastern philosophies observe the ascending and descending sticks of quality and seek ‘balance.’ We must have balance, they say. We must have the same amount of a quality both internally and externally, and to do so, we must stop looking for that which is wrong with the world and stop looking for that which is wrong within ourselves--because a focus on wrongness in either direction creates a tip in the scales, causing you to see imbalance where there is none, and hence, creates the imbalance through the extra weight added by your own probing consciousness. Imbalance, to the east, is thus the cancer that must be cured in the world.

The west see these sticks differently. To seek balance, they believe, is a resignation back to the flat line where there is no point to consciousness. There are no positives and negatives in such a world created by the east-- the universe might as well be dead. As a result, western philosophies do the opposite and seek to create imbalance, scarce resources, uneven divides, war, particles, separation, singularity, strife. To the west, they want sticks up and down all over the place in uneven amounts. This gives purpose to consciousness in the universe—definition to the emptiness inside of us all. This adds value to consciousness acting upon the void. Balance is thus the cancer that must be cured, and they personally are the remedy.

The problems that you notice are hints are your current definition in the immortal matrix. Your ‘problem solving skills’ are the equivalent of a pump, filling the world above with the sludge from the world beneath. Life, consciousness, the energy of you, is thus one massive problem you are trying to correct--a large external action which contains an equivalent internal reaction, connected, inseparable—the limitation of your body and mind. Some people are very loud, some people are very soft, some people have long, slow, and steady actions, others have short, fast, and erratic reactions. All of these are different, defining each individual person, acting together in one massive symphony of frequencies. The sheet music is owned by the gods, and we are their notes.

April 28th, 2009 - Upon Which I Bake

Exhale.

Definition! Distinction! Oh how important our singularity is to us, how important it is to separate the chaff from the wheat--and it is our particular inner selves and our particular thoughts which is obviously the wheat. Obvious, you say? And which evidence do you have of your own importance, your own rightness, your own answers to the great mysteries of life? Which instances in your past can you turn to to illustrate how well you’ve worked, how well we would all work if only mankind would take on your properties, your importance, your distinctions?

How easily we are all deceived by singularity, by definition. We draw lines around ourselves (that which should be baked into the fabric of the cosmos for eternity to consume) and point fingers at everyone else who do not fit the same mold (that which should be rerolled into a ball and flattened again). Hopefully next time they’ll be enough doughy substance left which fits into your mold for more cookies that look like you, yes? You scream from your form--it is the democrats who have done this to our nation! As if ‘democrat’ is a form in the dough which must be removed. You scream from your shape--it is the republicans who have done this to our nation! As if ‘republican’ is a form in the dough which must be removed. For the love of God--tell me something---at which point does a democrat become a non-democrat? At which point does a republican become a non-republican? There are no borders, no boundaries within the core of the black hole in which we exist! Everything is compacted into a single point. You forget these arguments--or they are beaten out of you with D's and E's-- as if they are the thoughts of children for children. But how can the problem the dough has be the result of the democratic stencil? The republican stencil? The stencils have nothing to do with the rightness or the wrongness of the dough--you are blaming an illusion you yourself have created in your mind! As a result, your arguments, your singularity, your distinctions, your definition, your rightness to correct these shapes--is also an illusion!

Ask yourself, why do you have an inner urge to define your edges and encourage others to be and think as you are? Are your thoughts a virus that seeks to spread itself like a disease? Your shape has such purity of form, yes---but it is a shape and not the cure to a slab of potential that is not even sick. Shake the Etch a Sketch. Redraw! Roll everything back up into one massive ball and reflatten. Rely on no form—nothing!--for there are no permanent molds, no permanent archetypes that have the proper answers, the proper distinctions, the proper definitions, the proper limits which define how things should and should not be, for the dough functions properly without any of them. It is dough! And you only have cut outs. Fix the dough? With a shape? What's even wrong with it that you can fix? Not enough democratic stencils imprinted upon it? not enough republicans? Not enough christians, atheists, jews, hippies, muslims, programmers, doctors, politicians, believers, physicists, italians? The sun which shines down upon us all is the oven, cooking us, congealing us, baking us into these structures, making us brittle, dark, charred, jaded.

We want to define the dough into our shape, 'save it' from its infinite potential. Yes! We must stop it from being anything, by turning it into something--so it might as well be cut outs of ourselves spread upon its entire surface in a fractalized orgy of definition, distinction--features of a useless singularity that believes it has 'the answer' as opposed to just a shape, a form.

The universe of finite reality expands like a balloon--just as the lungs of infinite potential collapse behind it, retreat, disappearing in between the lines we have drawn upon its surface. But when all hope is lost and the air is sparse within the lungs of the gods which have exhaled so furiously, a needle comes along--angry at the shapes, the cut outs which do not serve a useful purpose other than to bitch about non-existent problems--and pricks it ever so gently. Boom! So easy, because the lies are so thin, so baseless. But the forms hang on, don't they? Afraid to let go of the rubber exterior, clinging to its surface, evaporating in pieces along with the rest. All is in shambles. Cut outs of Buddhists, cut outs of capitalists, cut outs of all disciplines---none shall be spared. There are other worlds than these. Re-roll the dough.

Inhale.

April 22nd, 2009 - Upon Which I Stay Afloat

I’ve often had the distinct impression that my consciousness is separated from my body--it is as if I am looking through a porthole of a boat, but I am not the boat itself, and there are other people looking through the portholes of their boats in the same manner as me, frightened, alone, on the same lake. Some boats are moving around and causing disturbances in the otherwise calm surface around them, and when they do, I have to shift my weight in my own boat to ensure that I can continue to stay afloat in the turbulence to prevent capsizing. Using the lake and other boats around me as a navigational frame of reference, I can identify where I am in the physical world, but a question arises when I remove these physical elements from the equation: how close--or how far away--are our conscious selves from each other on that ethereal plane imprinted beneath it all? Do the borders of our conscious selves distinguishing me from you share the same spot within the singularity, in the same manner that particles within a black hole share the same physical location of extreme compression? Or is there physical separation--a vacuum--in between our own chunks of consciousness just like there is physical separation between our boats?

Extending this further, numerous physicists claim that in the very center of all stars and planets, there are black holes around which matter spins, and that matter has cooled and condensed upon the event horizons, forming a crust that is pulled with equal force towards a compressed point of singularity. Our Sun has a black hole at its core, just as earth has a black hole at its core. And just as there has been sun gods--consciousness originating from the singularity within the sun-- we could be considered earth gods, or consciousness originating from the singularity within the earth. Our singularity expresses itself within the double-helix strand of DNA. Sun gods, however, could express their shared singularity as a tri-helix--the trinity, creating a distinct flavor with a different set of powers and principles.

The earth singularity finds expression using duality to build its creations, as a result of our double helix nature. Good vs. Bad. Black vs. White. Hot vs. Cold. Scientist vs. Spiritualist. Saved vs. Damned. Dead vs. Alive. Our singularity tries to understand and influence the universe using these dueling opposites. To us, every action must have an equal and opposite reaction, and because of our DNA, the universal holographic vacuum responds and structures itself according to this duality, covering and pasting over any other variation as our frequency locks us in, trapping us in its electromagnetic context.

We, consequently, have all these internal ironies and contradictions that we don’t know how to deal with, thanks to the two winding strands of RNA infused within our cells which build our understanding. We contain them both, and we see reality and view reality and experience reality using these opposites in our grand experiment. Other planets and stars draw reality in a completely distinct pattern, so they can do things that we can’t, simply because their nature is made up of extra dimensions, extra strands of RNA. A tri-helix singularity originating from the sun can therefore enter black holes without getting ripped apart, simply because they are not limited by the same forces of nature, as ‘nature’ has been drawn in a different manner for them. Their frequency is of a higher number.

In our lonely experience of life as a double helix strand that has forgotten the singularity while we peer through our portholes, we assume we must pick a way to be (for why else would we have been born?) thus giving our life movement and form, twisting the DNA around itself. This twist in the fabric of the vacuum which makes us who we are is caused by our consciousness believing something is out of balance that we must correct. It is like this: if we are perfectly centered on a boat that is floating in the middle of a calm lake, and we suddenly believe that the universe is causing our boat to tilt to the left, we attempt to correct it by using our own conscious weight by tilting ourselves to the right. When this occurs, we then realize we have to recorrect the distortion we have just caused by leaning back to the left. Due to this movement, waves of disturbance flow over the surface of the lake which affects other boats, and we continue to shift our weight until returning to a state of equilibrium--which is the equivalent of us not being there at all. Since there are other players, however, you can NEVER truly find this equilibrium because there are others around shifting in their boats to create waves which throw you off balance again. These ‘waves of disturbance’ are the affects we have on others which we believe make us significant. We think something is off balance, something is wrong with the way the world works as our boat seems to be tilting, so we shift ourselves through the expression of our opinions---and cause more imbalance.

Some of us are considered grounded, materialistic, demanding, and thus take on the form of a much heavier weight. When thrown into the midst of the vacuum, the waves radiating off of their consciousness are much larger in amplitude, so the effects they have on the lake and upon others are much more visible, causing tidal waves, torrential drafts of wind, capsizing millions. Others are less grounded, more at peace, and they don’t quite see the need to shift their weight around in the boat as much--they know it is their own perspective that causes the most disturbance in life, so they sit peacefully with their eyes shut until the vacuum corrects itself. When they do this and act this way, their waves of intent are much smaller, but they do not mind, as they do not believe it is the size of the wave which makes them matter. These smaller weighted souls accept peace over turbulence. They are able to handle much greater amplitude waves as the result of their own silence and stillness.

The heavy weights and the light weights are connected to each other via a gravitational core--the singularity--which is our combined shared consciousness, filling the same location in space and time. At death, we hear stories of individuals travelling through a tunnel at the end of which is a bright light. This tunnel is their consciousness being sent downward, inward, twisting back through to the black hole singularity under the earth’s crust. In such a place, all drama is null and void. All differences are null and void. There is no disturbance in the singularity, for there is nothing that is NOT ourselves which we can disturb. In such a place, it is as if billions of TV channels have been collapsed into one and are playing every movie ever made at all times in the same moment on the same screen. All is white, pinned to each other through excruciatingly powerful forces. Expansion will have collapsed in on itself and imploded back to its core. All will return. We may enjoy our distinctions in this life, but we yearn to reconnect, don’t we? We yearn to fuse back together into that single entity that has shot itself full of vacuum at some time to give itself definition, volume, points of reference, density, and form.

I have hoisted my flag, set sail in the breeze created by me and others like me. The wind may be rough, but in my solitude, I do not feel it, I do not hear it. I sit, a light-weighted soul upon the floor of my boat, breathing deeply as the world around me tosses, turns. The singularity beneath us all may be our destiny in this storm--but our lonely portholes and creaking floor boards of our imperfect boats remind us of the very thing we all seem to consistently forget: an appreciation of our own immortality. We shall return to infinity, yes--but in the mean time, might as well sit back, fill our lungs with duality, and enjoy the ride.

April 16th, 2009 - Upon Which I Set Sail

There are two very simple responses people have when faced with the knowledge that they are helplessly not in control of their world: on one side, you have the people who believe that governments have been created to represent the people, and since their government or a collusion of governments does not represent them in particular, they seek to break this misrepresentation until they believe the people in power truly reflect their own values. Noble, yes? On the other side, you have the people who throw their hands up in the air and decide that there is no real benefit in trying to control things which are built upon thousands of years of political lies and intrigue--might as well try to control the weather or sea currents--so instead of working to control the currents, they just build a boat, hoist a sail, and follow the wind as they float away into the sunset holding their bottle of rum. To where will they sail? Who knows, and who cares? There will always be a new current that they cannot control beneath their feet. And if they could control it, perhaps it would rob their travels of any meaning, for the course would have been plotted for them.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve struggled intensely with figuring out how to be this second variation in the face of the pure bullshit issuing forth from all fortresses across the land acting in a choreographed dance straight out of the bowels of hell itself. A life pirate, aye! I’ve already perfected the ability to travel in and out of archetypal thought processes such as the ‘scientist’ or the ‘spiritualist’ without blinking as I pass between the lines of contradiction that separate the variations. But a life pirate, sailing the seven seas on the seventh planet from the outer edges of our solar system? Could I do this as well? And what would it take to remove my addiction of attempting to control the weather built upon debt and lies and short selling and sociopathic kings, queens, bosses, and bankers? I did not know, but I knew that something had to change, and as Gandhi once said, “You must be the change you want to see in the world.” So what would I do? And how would I do it?

I sat upon the shore with these thoughts, staring in to the bitter darkness of the deep blue sea, watching intently as waves washed in and pulled sand particles back out and away from the toes of my feet. How could I pull my gaze away from the currents of government which hypnotized me with its movements, just as clouds used to hypnotize me as I lay upon the grass as a youth? Was it possible? I felt so helpless--the forms and figures and shapes of flowing currents erased thought and turned me into little more than a pillar of salt, motionless, enraptured by what was, as opposed to looking onward to what could be, through me.

And while I stared at these currents, paralyzed as they moved while I did not, I realized that the very first thing I must do to pull myself away from the power they had over me was to turn my head, and look away. Oh, but what if I missed something? I would be ignorant--a fool! What if I wouldn’t be able to communicate with anyone anymore because I no longer was fed from the same bowl from which they also ate? What if I walked straight in to a line of fire that everyone knew was there because they heard about it, read about it, knew about it, and I did not? I would be dead! What good would that be? The currents in the sea! Just stare at them passing by and you just feel so informed, but it is a lie of the worst kind, as the shapes that you are told to make out and see, the sense that you pull from it all, disappear in the next instant, leaving you feeling cheated, stupid, misinformed, robbed, poor--one of Les Misérables. The media draws these pictures for you, and you buy it--but then the ground shifts, and new pictures are drawn for you. It is the same process that holds you, in sleep-like peace, as you stare at the television at night. So easy to watch other people draw upon those currents, isn’t it? So easy for others to tell you what to see, and how to see it. It hardly takes--any will at all.

But what if people who are fed from these currents which hold them in this sleep-like fixated state, what if they are not really communicating? What if they are merely repeating where the lines are that corrupt bankers (please point to one who isn’t corrupt) have drawn upon the map while they divide and conquer us? This is communicating? Hollow words, assisting in their efforts! What if that line of fire that everyone knows exists isn’t even there, but no one has bothered to check? Only the pirates who set sail discover this fact. Only the pirates are alive, no longer batteries controlled by others through massive debt and global hypnotism.

And there was my first answer as to how to set sail in a world where all is owned and manipulated, all is controlled, and not by me. The truth I had inside of me which set me free yet made me feel trapped and alone with clipped wings, finally surged upwards inside, like a Phoenix through the ashes by screaming at the top of its lungs, “Move goddammit! Move! Flap your broken wings you piece of shit! And don’t you dare to ever look back! You think you’re stuck because your wings are clipped? You poor excuse of a soul--all of our wings are clipped! Why else would we be here? Now move!”

I suddenly, inexplicably, made one of the boldest actions in years--I banned all media from my mind. No newspapers, no headlines, no magazines, no television, no movies--no lies. All created from money that we are told makes the world spin on its axis. These were all drawings that banks were making in the currents, showing you what shapes did and did not exist in the world around you, where to see the borders, the figures in the form, leading all of us like lemmings to our death as they stole our life force, our energy, encapsulated in their “currency.” Bah! Their waves. Not yours--theirs. I shut them all off, and waited in silence as the bitterness retreated, only to be replaced by a movement of my own, a movement I never had before. The chains had been lifted.

As the days went by and the fear of not knowing dissipated, as I lost sight of the land, I realized that I no longer cared what countries existed out there in the great beyond. I no longer cared who was president of those countries. I no longer cared if the world was at war, how many had died, how many had lived. I no longer cared what new Apple products were being created, what new operating systems were coming out, what new movies were playing, what new things were causing all that cancer. I no longer cared how much wealth was being stolen from people, because I had left the system completely, and it was not my wealth that could be stolen, because my wealth, my value, was no longer encapsulated on bits of their paper or blips of digits on their screens. I had learned during this time of ignorance and stupidity an extraordinary skill--how to build my boat. I did not care which way the wind blew, nor how to control the current below.

I was now the change that I wanted to see in the world. No banks, no governments, no debt. And all I had to do was simply shut off the TV, close the papers, read no headlines, hoist my sail--and drift away.

March 28th, 2009 - Upon Which I Am Carved And Hollowed

If you know deep down that the mainstream media is the mouth of the banks who are lying to you and profiting from those lies as you suffer, if you accept this not as a conspiracy theory but a fundamental truth, the misery associated with this knowledge is absolutely devastating to your psyche, as it has been devastating to mine. Not because the media must be true for me to have any semblance or figure or form of happiness, but because all billboards, advertisements, media spokespersons, politicians--everything I read and know about where I came from and where I am going, they are all lies that the banks are paying people to say, and I cannot appreciate the noise level, nor can I understand why anyone would want to tell the universe a series of projected lies for personal enrichment. I would rather sacrifice myself intentionally than tell slaves, “Pay 3 dollars, please. Thanks. The road to freedom is that way,” and laugh as they walk off a cliff like Lemmings, for that is what the banks are doing to the populace of the planet. How can they justify their actions? Why even exist when the very moment you open your eyes and see the light of day, it is not the light of truth that fills your view, but a cloud of darkness shrouded over a manipulative demon who is murdering you every waking moment, hollowing you out until you stare, blank-eyed at a TV, not caring about anything other than what they tell you?

If you know deep down that even the churches and all religious text books are frauds of the highest magnitude, written by people with manipulation in their veins, if you know deep down that the catholic church and other groups defraud the people just as much as these banks, you cannot even turn to an external spiritual source for truth and comfort. There is none! Most churches are creations of the manipulators themselves, used for the purpose of urging people into wars as a part of their Machiavellian tyranny, dividing and conquering the people while profiting. That is the unacceptable truth—the hologram is molded by banks, and they distract you so you do not see the wizards behind the curtains, pulling the strings as they pick pocket your soul, carving you out like a pumpkin. It is not the pumpkins themselves who created their own faces—it is the carvers, and they did so just before eating from their souls.

This truth, right now, feels like a poison. Truth gives you wings that you are unable to use because there is nowhere to fly that is not owned and manipulated and crafted by banks through land contracts, fraud, and unending debt. Fly to an island? Nay, the tax collectors will still come for you, demand your labor, steal from you, proclaim the importance of your ‘contributions’ to their world as you work for them because THEY think they have a right to manipulate life into their own form while you suffer! The truth gives you wings, yes, but they feel clipped and useless, don’t they? Useless! If you wake up from the dream world that they are pumping into your veins with a pipeline of their own sludgy waste, if you disconnect from them, you will soon grow to realize that there is nothing else to eat for they own everything. You are awake, yes! But it is disheartening that everything around you is now closed, the lights are off, the doors all locked. A pervasive silence envelopes you in your own ‘wakeful’ state, much like the silence of death inside the covered grave they made for you. The banks have created this reality, and it is a reality from which there seems to be no escape.

When they rob you of your job, when they rob you of your home, when they demand of you that everyone must ‘pull together’ and put in ‘extra effort’ for apples and pennies as people starve in their tent cities, when they send you to war, realize it is not the people who you are shooting at who are the enemies, but the people who put the gun in your hands! And how did they pay for those guns? They paid for them by taking away your job, kicking you out of your home, and selling it to the highest bidder! Do not go to war when they tell you to. Do not believe when the nuclear warhead touches down in your own backyard that it is someone ‘else’ distinct from your farm who did it. It is the farmers themselves working in collusion with one another to rouse up the cattle because it’s feeding time!

Boom! The warhead explodes! “Yes, that’s right cattle, did you hear that?” Asks the farmer. “It is indeed dangerous outside, so please, listen to me, and follow the rest of the lemmings into the safe captivity of my slaughterhouse. Would the farmers lie to you? Of course not, we all are here to take care of you! We feed you! What is that red liquid seeping from the floorboards that you see? Yes well, it is the bleeding hearts of us farmers, for we care for you all so greatly. One at a time, please. One at a time. There must be order.“ Boom!

That sound, so distracting and loud--it's so hard to see the spittle dripping from the farmer’s chin, isn't it? But it is there...more so than ever before.

It is not the people which have failed the banks because the people are ‘greedy’, it is the banks now writing all the laws which have failed the people because they are diabolical! The network of lies runs to their very core as the puppet masters pull the strings, telling their puppets they are ‘free’ to think and do as they please, saying what is real and what is fantasy while they continue their own brutality of how life should be lived as they alone decide who eats--and who dies. They are lies which have been carved into the world around you! The candles within our hollow souls were placed there by the illuminated ones, but they cast only shadows through our teeth and empty eyes! The illuminated ones? Bah! They are darker than everyone’s remorseful sins put together.

This is a great fraud. This pliable hologram has been manipulated by lunatics who only know how to cash in on the carved misery of others. It is much easier to accept what they say than to accept what you know, for there are so many of them—conscious intent of the manipulators far outnumber your own, so their ‘lies’ seem so much more real to you than what you know at your very core. They yell and scream and shout from the rooftops in a deafening chorus for everyone to “REMAIN CALM AS EVERYTHING IS UNDER CONTROL.” Remain calm, because everything is under control? By whom? For what purpose? And why are the stealing our jobs, homes, and sending us to war? Nay, I say---the cracks have formed in their brittle deceit. Burn their pipes of sludge to the ground because everything is under control! Refuse their money. Refuse their wars. Refuse their reality that you have helped them create while you attempted to put food into the mouths of your children. You did not know. But you do know now. They wish to kill everyone who does not assist in their master plans of domination and doom. Do not assist! Do not accept their reality of trinkets and self-debasement as they reduce humanity to vegetables and livestock. The have carved and hollowed us out.

The vast pipelines of lies have been bought, swallowed, and shat back out of us for generations. But it will not be bought and swallowed by this generation! Our generation. The generation led by the indigos of all races, creeds, and colors. I will never assist in their lies. We will never assist in their lies! Did you carve that face upon yourself, did you create those clothes, did you create this reality? Or did someone else with knives dig it into you and dress you up into how they felt you should live and look, and be? Free yourself! The chorus, then, issuing forth from the rooftops, will be one of justice—justice!--- and not the continued deafening songs of sadistic lullabies sung by farmers with a taste for meat and pie.

I have been carved, and right now, I feel very hollow. But I think when they did so, they missed a few seeds. And nature learns, doesn’t it? That truth which has ‘poisoned’ me will be passed on to my children, and their children, and their children, and when those farmers go once again to eat from their harmless crop…they will find who, truly, runs the show. The hologram will win before getting locked in to one position. It always has. It always will. And right now, it wants to move.