June 21st, 2011 - Upon Which I Ride The Great Dandelion: My First O.B.E.

I’ve known for some time that sleep paralysis enables one to have an out of body experience, but I have been mostly unsuccessful at doing so. I don’t seem to have a problem inducing the paralysis itself--the problem has been that I get stuck in my body, and I can only get half of my spirit self out of my material self at any one time. Stuck around the waist. If you’ve tried it yourself, it probably sounds pretty familiar. Much to my absolute astonishment, however, last night was extremely different.

I woke up from a light sleep and noticed that my body hummed. The line from Ghostbusters was stuck in my head and wouldn’t quit playing over and over, “Death is but a door, time is but a window. Death is but a door, time is but a window.” It played this way for at least five or ten minutes over and over until it began to annoy me, but at the same time I noticed during the chant, the system of buzzing had intensified.

I suddenly visualized two distinct things: first, I saw my spiritual self as a puddle of liquid that had dried up and had sunken underneath my physical ’dehydrated’ body on my bed. Secondly, I felt my spiritual self begin to rise upward through my chest. Since I have practiced this so many times in the past, I knew this to be the beginning phase of another OBE attempt. I pulled and twisted this part of myself upwards out of me in a tornado-like fashion, hoping this time, if I made myself disoriented and dizzy enough, I would be able to separate, but again, the barrier or the grasp that my body had on my spiritual self was too great.

When I began to sense my failure once again, I thought I would switch tactics: instead of ’pulling’ out of my body, I would use this force instead of fighting against it. I visualized my spirit self as a rubber band stretched between two extremes—my feet and my head down my spine. When I did this, I pulled this ’rubber band’ or string-like part of myself as hard as possible and then violently let go, in the same fashion that I would go about shooting a rubber band stretched around my fingers. When this happened, I felt a slight pang, and the next thing I knew, I bounced against the far wall of the apartment on the other side of the room. “I’m out! I’m out! Oh my God, I’m out,” I thought to myself. After I hit the wall--which didn’t provide any other sensation other than acting as a barrier--I rebounded to the opposite side of the room and tried to catch my balance while looking at my sleeping self on the bed. When I stopped my float, I tried speaking, but all that I could get out of my mouth was the equivalent of what you would hear out of an EVP.

After ten seconds of being out of my body I started to get a bit concerned that something would take over my body, or that I was dead. In addition, considering it was so dark and there wasn’t anyone around to guide me, I let myself return to my body. However, as I returned to my body, I thought I would just lay there in a state of suspended paralysis and feel the hum and try to think deeply about what was going on and what I just did. In a way, I waited for some form of biblical punishment for doing this, as out of body experiences, when I was young, was considered an evil practice.

Not knowing what else to do, I said, “If there are any spirits out there who can explain to me what just happened and what I just did, it would be most appreciated as I would like to know that I am not alone in some vast void. Someone must have noticed, anyway.” The next thing I knew, I heard a voice tell me, “You just ripened.”

I asked who was speaking to me, and the voice told me his name was JemBechle. I said that sounded like something I would have just made up in my head as he has the same main initials as my own name. He said, “Well if you would like, you can talk to Sophia—however, on this side, unlike in your own waking life, you pay more attention to what men tell you than what women tell you.” I asked who was Sophia, and noticed a person standing near my sleeping body who was wearing what looked like a white dress. She was busying herself doing something to me, like tugging on my leg and doing something to my eyes. Jem explained to me that she was a healer and, since I had just ripened, she was ’tending the garden.’ They told me I had been sick for some time too and she usually worked on me. I asked them what I was sick from, and they told me not to worry or concern myself about it as they were taking care of it.

I then noticed I could see them more clearly, but I was looking at them not through my own physical eyes but a different pair of eyes. I asked Jem whether or not Sophia was the ’Cinderella’ character who first came to me when I was twenty one and, in a nightmare, had pulled on my soul while laying in a state of paralysis. He didn’t give me a clear answer, but explained to me that Cinderella had been ’loosening’ something inside of me to teach me how to ripen, almost like plucking a string really hard would loosen it. In other words, there needs to be a bit of slack for someone to ever learn to have an out of body experience, and she had been trying to help me to do so even though it scared me.

I then asked if there were bad spirits too like the shadow people. They said it did not concern me and I did not have to think about it as they were taking care of that. I asked if there was some sort of war going on with dark spirits, and they said yes, in a way, but ask something else. Babies don’t know the concerns of the planet, and neither should I share with their concerns.

I asked where I was, and Jem said the easiest way to figure that out would be to look around. When I did, I noticed a couple different things. My perch where I lay was at the end of a cyan and green colored stem, and there were many stems, all leading back to a spherical root. If I could make an analogy, it looked like I was at the end of a dandelion tusk that was about ready to give up its seeds to the wind. Stretched over the end of the stem around a circle on the tip was a drum-shaped membrane over the tube leading downwards to the shared core. That membrane, I was told, was the equivalent of my third eye. As such, they explained to me that all souls from earth are attached in the same way, and at the end of all those other stems I could see in the distance were the rest of the occupants of earth and their third eyes. What I had done by flinging myself out of my body was the equivalent of a third eye, removing itself or flinging itself off of the end of the stem. Hence, the out of body experience.

I then returned to my previous question and asked if I was sick because of Fukushima, and they didn’t give me an answer. I said I could see the effects that Fukushima was having on the earth, as the cyan and green-like color of the sphere was red and white in a certain area, and that red and white splotching was the same as the red and white dots that Sophia was tending to around my eyes. They said I did not have to think about my sickness, as it was being tended to, just as I didn’t have to concern myself with Fukushima. I asked them why I shouldn’t be concerned, and they told me, ’it doesn’t matter.’ This frustrated me because I felt it did matter, and all they could tell me was to let it go.

I then asked them if I would be able to return to this place, and they said of course, all people who learn to ripen can return. I then said I really wished to learn things in the same way that Castenada had learned things with the nonmaterial beings, and they said they knew this and were working to help me do so. I could ask them whatever I wanted and they would do their best to answer my questions or find someone else who knew. They told me I had basically just been born, so my own questions and experiences were the equivalent to that of a baby. In addition, I would get whatever help that I wanted because it was necessary, in the same way that babies require help when they themselves are first born. Some people ripen early, some later, some only at death. They said that mediums communicated with spirit guides in the same way that I was learning to communicate with them. They ripen early, in other words.

I said that made sense. So I asked, are there other life forms than just those on earth? Jem told me to look up higher, and in the darkness I saw other dandelions in different colors floating in blackness, one of which was much larger and red and looked almost like an exploded firework hanging in the air. I asked him, how far do these firework like spheres of souls extend? They told me it extended forever and I could try to look if I wanted. When I did so, I was given the sensation of additional fireworks extending above and beyond these miniature ones in the distance, or made up of smaller fireworks, all different colors, where nodules made a network of larger nodules, like a neural network. I told them it was making me dizzy, and they stated that the dizzyness was the reason why human spirits on earth could not understand nor comprehend infinity--it makes them dizzy and disoriented and makes them feel alone and too small and they can just briefly see it but then it will be too much for them.

I asked, “Can I talk to anyone else other than you two?” Jem told me I could talk to whomever I wanted and ask whatever I wanted. I said, “How does that work?” They told me that they had been training me to do this even though I did not know I was training. I had been in training all my life, and the experiences of life were miniature steps leading up to my ripened disconnect. As an example, they said one of the reasons why I had recently read a book written by William Carpenter from the 19th Century was for the training of communication amongst other spirits. In that book, which was quite long (I hated it), it explained the functions of protoplasm, which is a curious glob that stretches itself as best it can into a particular cellular shape and does so without a brain or any organs which could house consciousness. That ’stretching property’ of protoplasm was the manner needed to communicate with other spirit nodes. From my position, above the stems of this huge dandelion, hovering over it all at some distance was a higher ’circle’ of spirits, disconnected from the core, and you could ’dial’ any of them you wanted by picturing who you wanted to speak to in your head, and extend your ’protoplasm’ out to them once you located them, and they, in turn, would extend protoplasm of sorts of their own which was like a link up with a tube of light. The link up would allow you to speak to them and ask questions or talk to them. The souls themselves were not a part of this tube of light—it was a channel to help funnel out the noise between distinct ’third eyes.’

I asked who it was in this outer sphere of spirits wanted to speak to me and I was given the impression of someone named ’Max Shendle.’ I said, “Who the hell is Max Shendle?’ At which point I located the impression, and extended one of these protoplasmic light tubes, and he in turn did the same, at which point I was confronted by someone in an older outfit with a funny mustache. He seemed to be exceptionally busy with something, but he said to me, “It’s Max Heindel, not Shendle.” To me this validated the experience a bit more, as I was being corrected. Max Heindel’s book, The Rosicrucian Cosmo Conception is one of my favorites. As such he was seemingly making himself available, and showing me that he appreciated my gratitude for enjoying his book. I said it was curious that I heard Shendel and not Heindel, and he said not to worry about it as they were patient and the signal or frequency required to intercommunicate often goes fuzzy when someone is not used to making connections. Mediums are able to maintain connections much better than most as they keep themselves open “without fear of insanity.”

I then proceeded to ask him a few questions. “Why is everything on earth so full of lies? Why the matrix?” I asked. He told me that yes, there was a grand lie, but that lie was a requirement for the circle and the square to interact with one another. The square was a gift of sorts, or a configuration, in which the spiritual sphere experiences life. This configuration I perceived in life as a ’lie’, but he directed me to see it more as a reflecting pane. And just as the sphere can exist on different frequencies through changing its vibration, so too can the ’interacting square’ have different frequencies as well. The two together, when matched with one another, can create infinite variations of material and spiritual reality, but it requires higher spirits—and lower spirits--to do so.

I then asked who gave us the square. He explained to me that, just as I was able to disconnect myself from my perch on the stem and fling myself across the room like a rubber band, so too can spirits ’fling themselves’ into different spheres. The beings from the sun created the squares for the earth to reflect itself against, which is why we see things like ’The Eye of Ra’ in our mythologies. The Eye of Ra is like a disconnected, unperched ’third eye’ from the sun which flung itself into the earth sphere to make a reflecting pane for the earth spirits to utilize. As such, they are very advanced souls. In addition, those who are ’building the square’ for reflection often times do not even know that they are doing it, in the same way that ’purposeful events’ in life teach one how to unperch themselves without knowing which events in particular have enabled them to do so. The material side of a person often does what the spiritual side wants without them being able to recall the true ’spiritual’ intention.

He then told me I had recently written up an article in which I had learned to experience ’connected opposites’ in the dream state. He said this opened the door for me to take in what he was saying to me, as well as enabled me to experience my third eye in its disconnected or unplugged state. The connected opposites, he explained, is a dizzying proposition, and most people ignore it in order to give themselves some stability in life. Hence, you get people making logical arguments and get angry when someone contradicts. Naturally, he explained, everything contradicts, and all those contradictions connect. I asked him how was this so. He told me that if I were to observe the third eye on its perch upon the end of its stem, I would see that it is like a stretched circular membrane that my consciousness could use like a muscle. I could make that membrane convex and concave, just as an eye can look both left and right, or people can be either inductively creative or deductively logical depending upon which ’mental muscle’ they use, or in which way they look. They are distinct from one another only in that they are dualistic expressions on the opposing sides of the stretched membrane of the third eye. Connected, yet opposite.

In the same way, he went on, the circle and the square are opposing forces on a stretched membrane, but on a much larger scale. On earth, it is the platonic ideal, the square, which is seen as geometric and perfect--but on earth, the platonic ideal is more mentally experienced and we strive to make it physical. In the spirit world, however, the inverse is true, and it is the physical existence which is the square, and the spiritual existence which is the sphere. These two interact with one another in the same way that opposing sides of the third eye are ’connected opposites’ that enable the earth to exist and grow in a spiritual form at the same pace as the material form. One influences the other, both of which would not be possible without the interaction between the ’square material matrix’ and the ’spherical spiritual realm.’ He said that what I generally perceive as evil is actually the perception of the square which is being built for reflection.

I then told him that in order to have the out of body experience, I had imagined a string that was stretched between two extremes. I told him that normally during sleep paralysis I was unable to get out of my body and that this had basically been the equivalent of me pulling on one side of a rubber band until it strained but did not release. I told him that instead of fighting against that force, I had used it instead, like a rubber band around a finger, to fling myself to the other side of the room. I told him that if I were to imagine this string of me spinning itself in the light it would look like a sphere. He told me that yes, I was a spinning string, and a spinning string looks like an orb whereas a non-spinning string looks like a whispy djinn. All of those strings, collectively spinning, take the form of planets which can spin in different frequencies. If a square were to endure the same frequency, a material ’planet’ would make an appearance within the universe. “So there is something to string theory” I said, to which he agreed. After this I was given the impression that he was very busy with something on the planet, and I said thank you, and he promised he would talk to me again.

Then I located Aleister Crowley (strange), and he appeared to me after the tube link up. He was dressed in an old king outfit with a red cape of sorts, and I was given the impression that he fancied himself as an advanced soul. He wanted to talk about sex magick and its relationship with the sun, but I told him I wasn’t really that interested in hearing anything of the sort at the time. He did tell me something about drinking and its connection with sleep paralysis. He told me that drinking ’slackened’ the stretched rubber band I was referring to, and to consider people in inebriated states as being less connected to their physical self. As such, they had a higher number of experiences with sleep paralysis, regardless if they knew how to use the paralysis or not. Learning how to slacken your connection with your body ultimately enables you to fling yourself from your perch. He said that, although I had been terrified by Cinderella who was pulling on my soul when I was twenty one, she was actually slackening it, so it would assist in the ripening. I said thank you, and he disappeared quickly as the protoplasm unlinked itself.

I then asked Jem what happens if the third eye goes down the stem instead of flinging itself from the tip. He told me people do this all the time when they fall asleep, and some even go down the stem when they die and are reborn and go lucid again. This stem, from the inside, looks like a tunnel. When you go down the stem and enter the center of the sphere of earth, all of the dreams in there are reflections of things you experience in life, and none of those things would be possible to dream without ’the square.’ The dreams themselves are connected to the earth, which is why you see cars and people and bridges and radiators and lollipops and boats in your dream instead of other things that are not ’experienceable’, such as those from one of those distant red spheres.

After this, Jem told me to meet Jeff Stone. I had the impression that they were just making up names, and they told me that they could just as easily make up their own appearances as well, and it was just to make people feel more at ease. Stone said that I had expressed a desire to learn how to ’travel’ during an out of body experience, and he was creating something which would allow me to do so, but I wasn’t going to use it until my next experience. To move in the world of light required a vehicle of sorts, he explained, and Stone specialized in making them. I said, “So you are like a car dealer?” And he laughed and said I am free to consider him one. He showed me what this traveling vehicle looked like. If I can describe it in any way possible, I would compare it to that children’s toy which is a plastic bubble, in which a coin is placed on a rod. When the plastic bubble rolls, the coin in its position is enabled to spin.

I asked him why the spin was necessary. He told me that, in dimensions of light, we are co-creators. As such, we need some way in which to perceive and experience a world around us which is not co-created—e.g. the reality of others. The only way to do so is to create a spinning coin of sorts which, when spun, speeds up the images much faster than the mind can invent them. I told him that made a lot of sense, as ’flickering images’ is used as a vehicle in many lucid dreaming books, as well as in remote viewing, where you learn to identify that which you think about and invent on your own vs. that which directly comes to you from an external source. The spinning coin, if you look at it and through it and picture an image on both sides of the coin, it will ’flicker’ in front of your eye, and by looking through it, you have more of a chance to experience images that you did not personally make up on your own. It worked almost like ’frames’ of a movie projected onto the opposing surfaces of the coin, with the next frame appearing instantly on the opposite side of the spinning surface. The opposite side of the coin acts like a mini buffer moving too quickly for you to draw your own light upon it, but moving in a fluid, movie-like fashion.

So ultimately, this vehicle looked like a clear orb with another orb in the center, and the spinning center was the same shape as the flattened membrane of a third eye. Stone told me to try it out briefly, and I did so by peering through it. I imagined it floating down over a field of wheat, and it directed itself and took me there. I next directed it to show the house of a friend that I knew, and I saw her hanging laundry on a line and pinning a sheet with yellow flowers on it up across a wire. He told me I would be able to really ’give it a spin’ next time I came back. I asked him how do I know that I will be able to come back? He told me that since I had the OBE, I would be able to come back much more frequently.

After all this happened, I finally fell asleep, and was so exhausted and astonished by the experience, I ultimately slipped into a mini coma of sorts and didn’t wake up for an additional twelve hours. Whether or not I will be allowed to return is yet to be seen. If this entire episode had been nothing more than a dream, it was the most fluid and comprehensible one I have ever had. Although it has been explained in just a few pages of text, it ultimately lasted for at least three hours. On top of that, all of this followed my first self-induced OBE. Take it or leave it—it’s what I experienced. It is possible the entire incident—including the OBE--could have been some strange hypnagogic hallucination, but if it was, wouldn’t you want to try and experience one, too?

Until next time...

June 8th, 2011 - Upon Which I Find The Ring

What is the truth? We are all on some endless quest to find it, so what is it? With my vast supply of infinite wisdom (right) coupled with my inability to find anything more revealing, let me propose a definition: the truth is that which manifests thought into physical form. You cannot argue with someone or something which has this capability--they would just make it so.

Let me add to this, for the time being, that Tolkien encapsulated this concept of ’truth’ in the form of a ring. Why a ring? Because it is the equivalent of The Philosopher’s Stone—that which can take any tulpa, any egregore, any flight of fancy—and turn it into the real thing.

At first, you may think this wasn’t what Tolkien meant, but think about this, as it brings that universe into an entirely different light. A Philosopher’s Stone, in alchemy, was seen as the Elixir of Life, capable of forming a subservient golem—or race of golems--out of inanimate matter to do the bidding of the bearer. Discovering it would bring that person godlike powers, enabling him—and him alone--to alter the face of the Earth. How so? By the uniting of opposites. Good and evil. Black and white. Astral thoughts into material reality. Tulpas, egregores, angels, demons, gods, goddesses, planets, solar systems, galaxies—all of them—ideas, manifesting through the center portal of this ring.

Now, given that a person can, for all purposes, generate reality through this ring, there can be only one ring. Why? Because, if there were two rings with similar capabilities, one of the rings could, through the manifestation of an idea, destroy the other, which it would promptly do in order to prevent the opposite ring from doing the same thing first. See how that works? One true ring, allowing for the generation of reality—a single reality--is all that is logically allowed. And the quest we all have inside to ’discover the truth’ is really the quest to obtain this power and manifest our own thoughts to make them real. If we were to say that an earthquake is going to hit tomorrow, we would want to be right. If we were to say that such and such loves us, we would want to be right. If we were to say that this entity written about in this book is God himself, we would want to be right. And we would be—that is the power of the ring. That is the power of the truth.

Continuing this little thought experiment, let’s say some entity found such a ring and decided to use it. As such, we are now all living inside of his world, unaware of who, in particular, created this place, or where, in particular, is the ring that allows the ’thought-form’ of us to exist. We could have been placed here with no will at all, doing exactly like we were designed, mindless automatons running off of a random number generator. But we weren’t. No, we have a will, and our will seems to be designed, as the ring bearer’s will was designed—to seek the truth. It is as if we, ourselves, are the equivalent of tulpas in the mind of this entity, and we wish—for whatever reason--to manifest outside of this medium onto another plane of existence. The only thing which has the power to do so is the ring. Thus, we need the truth. But could we handle it?

In Tolkien’s universe, the ring had a very dubious quality—anyone who drew near it would be driven mad. It was an apparent requirement. But why? Well, consider the power of manifesting truth--since there is only one ring, there is no ’collaborating evidence’ required for any truth you generate. In fact, logically there can be no collaborating evidence at all as this would require more than one ring with which to ’collaborate’. This logical quality of truth can be easily noted by the fact that most conspiracy theorists lose all sense of shared reality the closer they get to the truth, and are driven mad by the pursuit alone. They reach a point where they share no foundation with anyone else. They believe they are just about to touch the ring, and it overwhelms them the moment they realize that they must get there alone. They have sacrificed their shared sanity in their quest for that singular point of infinite power. So, a dilemma exists. We have been given a will to seek the truth—the singularity--but the closer we get to it, the more we lose our minds.

The ring has yet another quality—anyone who wears it becomes invisible. At first, this seems to be quite a random property. But think about it. You place the ring on your finger, you visit the astral plane. You take the ring off your finger, you are back to the physical plane. Both sides want the ring, both sides pursue it, and every time you use it, it gives all those tulpas and egregores a clue to the ring’s location. You are pursued, relentlessly, in both realms. Both sides see you, the ring-bearer of truth, as the answer to their troubles. It is as if both realms want to manifest--in the other. Demons become physical beings, and physical beings become demons. Plato’s ideal forms manifests into objects, and objects manifest into ideal forms. Through you. The bearer of the truth.

With a ring of such value, it makes logical sense that a certain ’variation’ of sorts would find its way into the mix: the counterfeit. It is easy to spot the counterfeit simply by observing when someone lies, especially when someone lies all the time. The true bearer of the ring would not have to do this. You can easily note that the Earth is not the center of the universe, despite all the tireless attempts to make it so. But still--it is the counterfeit which makes life so endlessly unbearable, as the wielders of the counterfeit do not have the same benevolence to provide free will as the original creator—whomever that may be. So how did they get such power? Their ring is fake—isn’t it?

Some time way back in Earth’s history, it is not a stretch of the imagination to picture someone who noted the properties that this ring had, and decided that, since they could not have it for themselves, they would simply emulate its properties. All traces of the genuine article would promptly be removed, and in its place, a false facade would be set up. The power of the truth was promptly given up for the power of the lie.

First and foremost, nothing could happen on Earth unless they caused it to happen, and nothing could be known unless they let it be known. At least, that would be the objective. Appearances were of the utmost importance, regardless of how weak the underlying roots really were. If their will were not obeyed, they would lash back with a vengeance and beat the offenders into submission, sending their goons to ensure their secret was not revealed, the secret being that what they held was nothing more than a counterfeit. They would rewrite history, even go so far as to deny everyone the faculty of their own senses. How many fingers, Winston? What trillions of dollars? What dialysis machine? What PDF layers? What oil spill? They would take food from your baby’s mouth if you allowed yourself to see through their illusion. It is your fault, your deficiency, your stubborn self that is making your children suffer—not them. And all of it can end, promptly, instantly, if you simply accept their rules, take your pills, and say to yourself that they own the one, true ring.

Furthermore, every time something ’unexplained’ cropped up that they themselves did not cause, they would promptly state it was fake, or attach to it other ’natural’ causes. Why? Because there can be only one truth—their truth. As such, they would note these oddities and make every effort, not only to cover them up, but also emulate them to take credit for them. These they would call ’hoaxes’ and allow the blending of truth with their own impostures so no one would be able to know of the--much deeper--counterfeit. UFOs? They are but military jets and mistaken identities. Crop circles? Why, that is but a new form of art with sticks and old men, hired by the CIA, who stay up late at night and travel the globe. Yes! They would cover up the fact that there is a truth...different than the one they themselves invented. These false ring-bearers are like lightbulbs pretending to be the sun—and they would blow up the sun itself if it would ensure the illusion.

As for the ’invisibility’ clause, they would take care of that as well. The creator of the universe is just that—invisible, as he lives ’in the gaps.’ He is inaccessible because he wears the ring. On Earth, this group of individuals who wished to emulate this very same property of the ring would do so by changing their name, changing their country, changing everything about themselves and endlessly hide in the shadows as the ’invisible puppet master’, pulling the strings and creating a world in their image—pretending to own this place. Internationalists. Globalists. The Faceless Ones. No countries, no loyalties—only endless conflict in their wake. You cannot find God with a map and compass, and just the same, you would not be able to tell on Earth who is really calling the shots, either.

Their illusion, they believe, is almost complete, as we have difficulty distinguishing between two actions—acts of god vs. acts of man. Was the 9.0 earthquake in Japan man-made, or was it an act of God? They both seem to have equivalent capabilities here. Is this the will of an invisible being, or is this the will of man pretending to be an all-powerful invisible being? The door is closing. The winner has almost been called in to claim his prize—Earth itself, and all of its inhabitants.

But! But! They do not own the ring!

No. They don’t.

The creator of the universe with the real one is out there, somewhere, in all those gaps, invisible because he wears the real ring. But what happens, might I ask, when he finally takes it off? And what do you think he will do to all those counterfeits hellbent on destroying his gift of free will?

The ring which has been forged—not by the creator--but by the hand of man, will be worn by a peasant whose sole philosophy is to eat, drink, read, watch the birds, feel the wind, and be merry. He shall wear it around his neck, and walk to the darkest land, reach the highest peak, hold it over the forge—and let it go. He will open one finger, then another, then another, and watch it slide from his grip and tumble end over end until it is swallowed by burning magma. Won’t he? Let us all pray he can do it.

That hobbit is our last hope.

April 15th, 2011 - Upon Which I Dreamed I Woke Up

I noticed this morning that most things experienced while sleeping are bipolar opposites of one another, which is precisely why dreams themselves are so hard to recall. You’ll see a lake of fire, you’ll walk upstairs and end up in the basement, you’ll give birth to your own dead self, you’ll be thrown in prison by being freed. It’s like living in an Orwellian nuthouse populated by a billion M.C. Eschers. Your sleeping self has no trouble collating contradictions and wrapping them into a structure that you can somehow understand when you’re asleep. You’re fine with the inconsistencies in such a state. Only when you wake up do you start second-guessing what you experienced. “Now hold on a minute, I cannot fall off the ground and end up in the sky.” That type of thing doesn’t seem to happen in the waking world--only in the dreamworld. But why? And what does it mean?

We are told that dreams are merely random firing of neurons with no rhyme nor reason and that what you dream about every night are thoughts and concerns you had during the day, packaged up with pure mental freedom. In a certain sense, that is true, but it’s too cheap of a view. I mean, what exactly is this mental freedom that is so readily available in sleep mode, and why do we have it? We don’t have too many organs in our body that don’t do anything. So what purpose do dreams fulfill, and where do they really come from? Are they as real as this place? Or less real? And what makes them different?

To me, dreaming is a state where our consciousness does not have to deal with consequence. In this world, if, when everyone fell, they floated up to the moon, there would be a particular universal consequence, a change to the laws of gravity, and we would have to learn to function around the consequence by taking necessary precautions to save people who accidentally found themselves in such a state. A law would be defined. A precedence would be established. But in the dream world, falling upwards doesn’t matter and you feel perfectly comfortable doing so. “Now I’m near the moon, hmm, this is weird,” is pretty much the only consequence while dreaming, if you can even call it one.

I’ve spent most of my life thinking heavily upon these dreams and trying to experience them fully, paying extremely close attention to them. This probably has something to do with the fact that my first waking memory of this life was a dream. There was a thin fuzzy thing and a thick fuzzy thing and they were bouncing on a trampoline, teaching me how to feel heavy and light. I’d press down on the trampoline and feel light. I’d push off of the trampoline and feel heavy. Not normal on a real trampoline, but it made perfect sense to me as a child and I can still recreate the feeling I was taught in my mind that I had originally learned from these two fuzzy shapes. They were teaching me something. Things were reversed, but the same. Jumping up was down, feeling light was heavy, all the way down until I woke--all the way up. And after that particular dream, all my life’s recollections began.

These bipolar structures within dreams now completely intrigue me. It has gone so far as to affect my entire world view. Here, in waking life, I see duality everywhere, but while awake, we experience a segmented duality as if there is a stake in its beating heart. Here, you are either a democrat OR a republican and you cannot be both--here, if you were both, you would contradict, and contradiction is a dirty word in the waking world. It is avoided at all costs to create structure to your thoughts and consequences to your actions. Here, contradictions are a no no, and to contradict yourself, you are seen as an obviously poor student to the way the world works. Flakey. But in the dream world, your whole mental landscape thrives on contradiction and you can experience opposites as one and the same.

These contradiction and consequences that we observe build the waking world it seems, writing laws, societies, civilizations. Picking a side creates a career, establishes a sex, a specialty, a hobby, a religion, a duty, and a person who does none of these is considered either an outcast or a failure. It is as if we are forced to ’pretend’ that the raw source of creation shouldn’t contradict when, according to the dreamworld, it does, and so do we. Things should be picked here! We are told. Pick a side, get in line, and wait out the inevitable consequence of your decision. And once we have picked, we build our choice and hide behind tons of contradictions that we run across, hiding them even from ourselves as if they were accusations--just so we can continue to play along at peace as the missing (x) variable on the left side of the equals sign which balances out an equation. That (x) variable is your ’awake’ consciousness, playing a roll 16 hours a day by pretending it is right whereas other things are wrong. It defines itself in contrast to all that other stuff out there that doesn’t quite get what you get.

But in sleep there is a different story to tell. That (x) ’self’ of yours seems to reconnect to the true source of it all with no need for the equation as the sides are already equal. In sleep, everything is water and fire, up and down, left and right, in and out, at the same time. And as such, there is no need for consequence or definition there, because in that place, nothing is missing--the democrat contains the republican and the republican contains the democrat. Since one cannot live without the other, they are experienced as the same thing. Parentchilds, doctorpatients, sicknesshealths. The up contains the down and the down contains the up. Falling is the same as going up, and going up is the same as falling down. This is your rest--don’t you see? Where you quit pretending distinctions, where you quit having to play the game of segmenting opposites. In the dreamworld, everything is there together as one with all contradictions deaf to the sounds of your waking logic which screams bloody murder. You contradicted yourself! You fell through your own self created schism!

So which is the real world? The one in which opposites are separate, where we must infect one side in contrast to the other side to experience something? Or is it the one in which opposites are connected and are actually parts of the same thing? It seems as if we have an Achilles’ heel of sorts when trying to understand the universe around us while only being given half of the equation while awake--you can break things in two here, yes, but the deeper you go, the more that discernment falls apart. Right now, for instance, you think you are being pulled down by the force of gravity, but if you scale back and swing your camera around knowing full well that the universe does not have an ’up’ you will realize that you could be getting pulled ’up’ by this force instead of down, or out instead of in. Or all at the same time. You see? It blurs. But in the dream world, nothing falls apart in your mind, and you can float around, completely at peace with opposites that are the same thing.

While awake, you could be a banker, a politician, a doctor, a boy, a girl. It is as if you are ’hovering’ in some way over one side of the variables in an equation to reflect upon the other side of the equation and understand that side as best you can, but you cannot fully understand as your consciousness is handicapped to sticking with one side. It’s like using your own hand as leverage to walk in the air--you just can’t do it! A portion of your senses are stupefied intentionally to create a perspective, an experience. That is what it means to be awake. But when you fall back asleep again, the discernment between opposites returns to null and you see things how they really are and you can finally use that hand as leverage to walk up into the air, no problem. That is why answers come in the form of dreams--you see all sides at once with no limitations in 360 degree high definition color. The veil of opposites is lifted and you understand why your anti-dandruff shampoo creates dandruff, you understand why your dentist causes cavities, you understand why doctors cause patients, crutches cause limps, and you understand it by not being forced to cover one side of the equation up with a towel. Your third eye is open--directly in between the other two. In the dream state, you are enlightened. In the dream state, you just know.

Martin Luther King once had a dream that all of humanity would be seen as equal. I have to agree--he most certainly did. And after much reflection, I think it’s safe to say that all of us have had that same dream as well.

January 13th, 2011 - Upon Which I Smell the Roses

In conspiracy literature, the idea that stands out as being shared most commonly amongst its writers is, unsurprisingly, the concept of the matrix: we are all being lied to in every way, shape, and form, and because mankind is so stupid, they can’t wake up from the fiction presented to them by the powers that be and live life the way it was meant to be lived. I’ve thought in the past that perhaps this wake-up call that we have received with passion was generational, that as a direct result of the internet and the birth of indigo and crystal children, finally, after thousands of years, people have figured it out, and have decided that they’re just not going to play along anymore. Finally, we have a woken up, I thought. We can live the life that we are supposed to live! One filled with realness and meaning, as opposed to false leaders and their bullshit, topped off with a hefty dose of daily drudgery.

But now, I’m not so sure. Why? Because buried in the heart of all those lies presented to us is a rather disturbing truth: when you stop playing your bullshit role that has apparently been assigned to you for bullshit reasons,you must now play another role which is just as false as the one you’ve left. In other words, this new role that you would like to play has already been covered by numerous other people, and the manner in which you play it mirrors the manner in which these other people have played it in the past as well. It’s quite natural to do so. Someone who proclaims something that you would, for whatever reason, like to believe, sets an example for you, and since you listen to what they proclaim, you are likely to follow their example and play a resulting role in the same way you played your first role before your ‘revelation.’ There is now a new potter for you, but you’re still the same clay. Yes, the revelation has changed you--but honestly, you’re still not free. You’ve just exchanged one lie for another, one example for another, one world view for another, one set of hands for another. You, as a human, want to believe and almost have to believe in something in order to function here, but everything presented to you as new ‘belief material’ within which to embed your efforts contains the same amount of bullshit. You’re trapped in it, and whatever message you care to spread across the toast of life might as well just be considered a different brand of butter. Yes, there’s a different flavor, but it’s still the same toast.

This thought naturally led me to another: given that there is no escape, is it okay to allow yourself to be lied to, accept it, and just run with it? I tried coming up with some example where I could accept lies as being ‘okay’, and my mind kept returning to computer games. You fully know while playing Call of Duty that you are not really in war, and the creators of the game have just tried to invent an immersive experience and overload your senses where you forget that you’re just on a couch with a controller in your hand. Bombs explode, people aim their weapons, and you feel like you’re there. In an MMO game such as Warcraft (or whichever you prefer), the feeling is there more than ever—that game world is so big and there are so many different things concerning your avatar to improve, quests to fulfill, that you forget the clock as the hours just spin by and you play and play. If someone were to walk in the room and call you an idiot for sitting there so long, that the world you are pretending to be in is just some fiction, you would look at them like they are idiots for bringing it up. Of course the world doesn’t exist and is pure bullshit—that’s why you play. You want the bullshit to be as real as possible so you get lost in it, and you see nothing wrong with that because that’s what we’re all doing daily anyway. You, as a player, fully accept the lie, and you don’t care.

I have a friend, for instance, who confided in me recently and told me that if it were up to him, he would shed his body and just live in these make-believe worlds full time and never look back. He would forget this world, and just fulfill the role of his choosing, fake though it may be. It reminded me of the movie Inception where the main character ultimately forgets which reality he is in and no longer has the ability—nor does he care--to distinguish the dream world from the real world. In his final world which may or may not be the real world, he makes it back to his kids. So forget about the spinning top and give them a big hug, because whether it’s a delusion or not doesn’t matter.

And what do these world creators in the movie Inception argue about with one another? How to make their creations more immersive so the avatars which populate it are more involved and don’t realize they are dreaming, losing themselves within that world so they stay there longer. Some games have more drastic consequence for death than others, some allow you to fly, some don’t. How is this world any different? Because it’s real? What makes it any more real than others? Because it hurts? Because it feels good? Because there are consequences to our actions? Well, isn’t that just another one of its ‘immersive’ features?

But things which ruin the immersive features of this matrix do leak out which gives us a kick to wake us up from the inside. Recently, for example, I ran across a series of papers written by a lawyer, discussing how much of a joke the founding of the United States was to its supposed national heroes. The first congress referred to themselves, not as the nation’s founding fathers, but as the nation’s ‘founding farters.’ His case was enhanced by a Benjamin Franklin essay on farting written about the same time which, in light of the other documents, wasn’t very funny at all. I stared at his evidence with anger, asking myself, how can they make a joke about something so important? Millions of people die believing in their nation and the importance of their nation, and to you guys, it’s just one big joke. How dare you. Fuck you all. They, however, fully accepted the lie, just as George Bush seems to have fully accepted the lie by referring to the Bill of Rights as a ‘goddamn piece of paper.’

Consider the same type of document being released on accident from the internal offices of Blizzard where they refer to their game in meetings as World of Borecraft instead of World of Warcraft. And you, a character in their world, playing it for years, would probably be just as furious, even though you knew that world wasn’t real, either. Don’t the creators that everyone looks up to respect the time, effort, heart, soul, and money that you, as a player, put in to it while playing their game? How dare they, you would think. Fuck them. And fuck that world, too.

But the World of Warcraft isn’t real, you know this and don’t care, and those ‘founding farters’ seem to have understood the same thing about Earthcraft as well. Their world, their creation, their fiction, wasn’t very real, either. Nudge nudge, wink wink, founding farters. Yet at the same time, despite their knowledge of all the fictions, they must get people to believe in it in order to obtain personal benefits while handing out things for people to do, who, in many cases, much to your dismay, actually enjoy doing them. So they set up their multi-sided evangelists to spread the word of the importance of democrats over republicans or republicans over democrats, which honestly feel just as important (or non-important) as choosing the Alliance over the Horde. The choice of one or the other doesn’t really matter, but it gives the game feature-like options—more elements to it that you can pretend to (or refuse to) play.

With these thoughts in mind, given that you have finally woken up from the Matrix and have awarded yourself with a few well-deserved pats on the back, you are probably asking yourself--now what? Do I fight back? Do I go live in the woods and stockpile canned goods and buy ammo before the lizard people appear and ransack all local Wal Marts and take off our heads? Do I open the window and scream that I’m as mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take it anymore? Do I quit my job? Or do I shrug, and just keep playing along since we cannot escape the fiction? Too many internal memos may have leaked out of this self-perpetuating lie which obviously needs some new management, but in the meantime, since there is no escape, might as well choose your race, choose your life, choose your meaning, and choose your own adventure, because ultimately that seems to be why we all signed up to be lied to in the first place. The roses may all be fake here, but regardless, every now and then you should stop and smell them anyway. I mean, who knows? You might actually like it, even if it isn’t very real at all.

August 23rd, 2010 - Upon Which I Connect The Dots

You paint dots over the surface of reality using your memories, drawing pictures in the jumbled mess by tracing from one focal center of the past to the next, looking for a larger picture in it all that expresses something about the nature of what you have just been through, something that expresses “you”. That picture says “This is my life. This drawing I made which connects all these things that has happened, this is me, so this is how I should function in the future.” But that picture you just painted of yourself through those people, places, and things that have occurred to you in the past—that picture is no different than a face you have simply imagined into the clouds. Clouds shift. Things change.

Still, you choose those focal centers, but you could choose any of what has happened to you and concentrate on it to form a new "you" in it all. Logically, shit just happens as you tumble through the universe like a meteor, bouncing off of one planet to the next until eventually you hit your final destination--all those memories being little more than residue, caked on dirt over a shoe after a long trek through the mountains. Emotionally, however, there is nothing “random” about the tumble, because every time you smacked into something and it hurt, that pain formed a memory. Every time you brushed up against something and it felt good, that pleasure formed a memory. That applied emotion is your dot of focus that can show you what you “mean” and will always mean, what you look like, who you are. Looking back, some people focus on all that pain, and they say their lives have been miserable and will always be miserable until the day they die. Sometimes people focus on the pleasure, and they say their lives are beautiful, life is beautiful, and they love everyone like the sun—and will be back shortly after it’s all over.

But at the same time, you can choose to not remember any emotion that you might have felt, or you can, in hind-sight, change your emotion that you might have felt from the past. So not only can you choose to concentrate on the pleasure or the pain, but what gave you pleasure and pain itself can change, and if that’s the case, you can draw from anything in your memories that says, “This is me” or you can draw nothing at all by ignoring all those dots. Looking back through your memories, in other words, charts your path forward, but what you choose to remember and apply your intent to is completely and absolutely—fluid. Your intent of drawing a “you” lights up all that cold blackness of space, but you can make any element in all of it glow and burn as brightly or as dimly as you want it to burn, changing the whole landscape.

And you ask yourself--or whatever form your "self" may have on any given day--did God put that planet right there so I could hit it and feel like such a shit? Did God put that absolutely amazing set of Saturn rings right there so I can feel like pure heaven? Or am I in charge of it all and am just charting my path and deciding what to smash into or breeze through on my own? You can choose any explanation you want for this as well. The focal points aren’t “real” unless you make them that way, the path isn’t “real” unless you make it that way. Everything is fluid, interchangeable and ultimately, completely and absolutely connected. Just like this life is interconnected with all the various other lives you might have led, all feeding back into your oversoul.

So there is a very unusual and rich irony about drawing all those dots, day and night, day and night. Without “you” the dots wouldn’t glow. But you are inventing that “you” at the same time simply by choosing what to call out from your past and say it was important. So both the dots and “you” are being made up, your past and the future are being made up, the possible “future” memories you may have are also being made up—and all of it is occurring at once.

Here’s an example: I am currently intensely focusing upon how bipolar my emotions are every day. By focusing on them makes them more of a reality, makes my path more erratic, makes me snowball through time and space that much harder. Like a cat walking at a particular velocity could, in theory, take down a cement bridge through the application of consistent vibrations, my own consistent focus on my bipolar tendencies has taken down my life. I have furniture in the U.S., but no car. I have a car and two children in Australia, but no furniture. I have tons of friends in the U.S., and I know very few people here in Australia, yet I’m now trying to rebuild in Australia while my family in the U.S. wonders if they will ever see me again. I have no address, no phone for the most part, and work doesn’t know whether I’m staying or going. I have an amazing amount of potential, but all of it is being channeled into the fact that I can’t seem to find a level ‘plateau,’ and have difficulty finding an incentive to even want wake up in the morning and make money, because that would mean I would be stable, longer, and have to stay here, on earth, inside of this broken me, longer…when I just want to leave. All I’ve been thinking about is trying to get Nina into my life because she made me want to keep my particles the most--But look at the trail I left behind me as I pined for something I couldn’t have! It’s like I’ve been cutting through iron ferrite with a completely dulled drill bit. Look at what's happened! But then again…

During this process of watching my life fall to pieces as everything around me was torn to shreds in my 33rd year, I’ve realized something—Nina tried to reawaken the part of me that had fallen asleep. The part of me that I let go to waste. That side of me which had been dulled after years of struggling to find any reason whatsoever to live…the unafraid side. It's been re-awakened in the midst of it all as I have been forced by events beyond my control--to let go. My “life” is not what is a wreck anymore—the sensation of “not wanting to live life anymore because of fear” is a wreck. I lost my way. I lost my trail of dots that previously formed my way. I asked my oversoul for help, begged it for help, as it stared me in the eyes, every which way I looked. My oversoul didn't answer--Nina did, as did all of you. The path that I have previously lived said, "Everything is my fault. I should thus be afraid of everyone and everything so I don't stir up the waters." The path that I have been shown which is amazingly more beautiful, says "sometimes, despite all your efforts, the water, like me, has a mind of its own."

That semblance of life that I couldn’t stand anymore, it’s just completely gone. Everyone around me watched in horror and concern, saying, “Where did Jeff go? Where did he go? Where is he now? Is he alright?” Jeff wanted to get away from Jeff. And ultimately, Jeff did just that with the help of everyone else. Jeff was tired of being afraid. Where did he go? I don’t know. I don’t care. He jumped ship and the ship jumped him. Don’t you see? I can't control everything anymore. I mean, geezus, I can't control myself anymore. It's not all up to me. It's not.

Yes, big setback, but all my pencils can be resharpened, or I can get a new set of pencils altogether. I have someone else I want to "try" and draw back in to the fabric of space as I tumble through it, but this time, I'm gonna draw him in right next to all of you. Unafraid, standing there, holding hands. I have had trouble letting go of Jeff, but I assure you, I will not have trouble holding on to all of you. And I haven’t wanted to draw anything quite this badly in years.

April 24th, 2010 --The Zombie Mombies

The murderous mumblings of zumblie wumblies, I hear
biting their brashes in the bushes of the burgs
stumbling over stout clangs of mindless masses--
who are the zombies? I ask
the populous,
or the porous atrophied teeth and face of this dead race?
a disgrace, I smell
when I cannot tell the difference between them and us
marching in tune with ipod zunes
dragging their fangs as arms hang
down blood dripping and slipping
in town
they fit right in, don't they?
mobs of zobs that beam and stream darkness and decay
in the day
the night, quite a sight
filling cabs stabbed, stained with rain
wiped in vain, no purpose on the surface
gnashing and thrashing out bashing
filling their emptiness with TV air time and full glasses--
you want to see what they did to me? to you?
I let them chew
like you
gutted cows served as beef to kings
while innocent eyes cry to be less dead
dreadfully awful
year in and out
on routes everywhere, not just the 66th
no cure for the impure, fluoride or not
the zoppings are out shopping somewhere deep in eternity
erased minds holding blunt pencils, bulging purses
broken minds trying to get ahead
a hand or toe
could be yours, you know?
can't tell these days
between the rays of darkness and the sun
on the skins of soured children
must be done--I suppose
the great culling
I sit mulling in stillness
equally ill--mombs and their zombs alike
they chewed on her long ago, on me,
a small boy in the leprous hands of the land
that fed us poisoned water
in the store, hungry, more,
shown the end, all zothers eat their mothers in confusion.
shelve 2012--
the elect already collect harvested organs
from us zombie mombies wearing abercrombies
mouths open, vacuous eyes
flat-lined minds, our souls sold to the lowest bidder
for there's only so much cash buried in the ashes of ourselves.
who will save us, Mombie earth?
or did they zombie her--first?

March 16th, 2010 - Upon Which I Create an Egregore

If the universe is nothing more than a holographic lie, doesn’t this give us all permission to write our own lies directly into the fabric of the universe like the Sons of Seth do? The builders of the illusion? What gives them the right and not us? Only one reason: they know it’s all bullshit, and we don’t accept that, while we preach everything is illusion at the same time. We bitch about the New World Order implementing their lies and deceit, and we hate it, yet state at the same time that reality doesn’t exist in the way that we think it does. Logically speaking, if we are all living in a false reality of someone else’s making, yet share the same abilities, can’t we just take that reality back from them by accepting the fact that we are all playing make believe? All particles pretend they are distinct from the whole—the secret societies know this, so we might as well play make believe right along with them.

And how do we do this? By applying our consciousness to the creation and development of a new egregore on the astral plane, an archetype, and having other conscious minds place their intentions and emotions into it as well. The word egregore comes from the Greek word egregoroi, which, when translated into English means ‘watcher.’ Eliphas Levi stated that they were “terrible beings”, fathers of the Nephilim. According to Levi, the watchers have no pity on man because the watchers are unaware of our own existence. They don’t need current living people to exist once they have been defined. A future group of people arising on the planet can pick up where the dead left off—the egregores, the angels, are thus eternal, more powerful than man, and as such, can do as they please, even though they need man to exist.

These archetypal entities are the equivalent of powerful memes that infect the minds of those who are concentrating upon it until it manifests itself into particles (A Watcher thus becomes a Nephilim). The bridge between the two is conscious intent of humanity. Like the borg in Star Trek using the consciousness of everyone else, the archetype on the astral plane develops strength and grows, after which it can be represented in material reality, whereas on the astral plane it develops strength and seems to have a mind of its own. This egregore separates itself from the all through the definition of those choosing to make it real, defining its borders, stating what it is and what it is not. When it is represented in material reality, the egregore becomes the equivalent of an angel, falling from heaven to occupy the minds of men and women on earth.

It is the previous “Nephilim” (Astral/Material creations) that Jews claimed God wanted to wipe out in the great flood. It is the current Nephilim that people seek to destroy as well, as they place their hopes in a new world arising out of the ashes of 2012, resetting our interconnected natures to build new egregores on the astral plane once again.

The steps to create an egregore have generally been hidden from the mainstream, but have manifested in ritualistic magic and occult works. A portal is opened where the mental creations can come through. It has been stated, for instance, that the appearance of the greys are the result of a ritual that Aleister Crowley performed when he made contact with a being called Lam. The ritual associated with making contact with Lam has ever since been associated with humans making contact with the greys. The experience of an abductee mimics the ritual performed by Crowley’s followers, involving sex magick. Did this portal that he opened between the astral and the material cause all future experiences the past century with the greys? It’s as good of an explanation as any other, I suppose.

Ritualistic magic—the creation and summoning of the Watchers-- has always been associated with the dark side, but you have to ask yourself, what is the dark side, and why do people dabble within it? The objective of the dark side is basically to teach apprentices that since everything is interconnected, they are a part of everything, the ‘good’ in the universe as well as its required ‘evil’ opposite. Rituals are thus designed to free someone from their limited feelings of separateness by forcing them to be a part of more than what they are used to. Before the ritual, man has a lesser ability to create. After the ritual, they feel more empowered as they have done what they did not want to do. The guilt of doing such rituals must be overcome, but once they sign their soul over to the ‘devil’ through ritual, they are thus more free to create manifested reality and, as such, draw on more egregores and interact with more egregores than the common man.
As such, rituals generally are used to help you break your previous limiting beliefs of separateness by forcing you to do something that you don’t want to do—in the Christian community, this would probably be classified as being indoctrinated into “evil.” But what is the purpose? To connect you with more aspects of yourself by doing what you were previously unwilling to do. This is mind-expanding as it brings you closer to the realization that you are everything, more connected to the creator god who defined this place as an experiment where anything goes in order to know itself. Mainstream religious teachings on the other hand gives you a set of rules and parameters within which you are allowed to live. In other words, be less than everything by strictly following a particular set of rules which defines how much of everything you can be—pinning you to a single egregore that wipes you of your own capabilities. When this occurs, the singular egregore possesses you and makes you its subject, turning you into its mouthpiece, deleting your consciousness and replacing yours with its own. If you are approached by someone who has been indoctrinated into a set of beliefs (a particular egregore), you get this sense that they are not fully there, don’t you? A ritual is usually needed to break these constraints, open your mind, and contradictively harden you to the point where you have more gravitational force than others, and a greater ability to create once again. Creating anything requires dualism. Without accepting the duality of your creation makes you a much less effective creator. Any screenwriter or novelist who has sold what they have written would probably agree. A story must have balance, just as all creation must have balance as well, with your consciousness being the tie breaker, allowing for both.

Reality that you can see, touch, feel, taste, smell, and experience could not exist in such an expansive state of everything being a part of everything. Thus, to create reality, you must develop a set of rules that separate one thing from another, a lie of separateness within the hologram, defining boundaries within the everything. By doing so, this segregation creates a thought-form—an entity which requires your own consciousness to exist since you are whom defines its limits (along with others who join you), using your collective focused energy like a battery. Your consciousness gives that thought-form power, just as that thought-form gives you a certain type of power as well, a place in the matrix, and, because of this, a feeling that you have meaning and purpose greater than yourself. “Sacrificing yourself to a greater good” is an example of you giving in to an egregore, a way to be, a way to interpret the world around you—wiping your mind of all other perceptions and replacing it with the singular perception—a tool for the egregore which has possessed you. Are birds in a flock separate and distinct from the flock itself once they become a part of the flock? Tough to say, just as it is tough to say whether or not people forming the catholic church are distinct from that church. The church is more powerful than man—but the church relies upon man to exist.

When more than one person creates a group for a common purpose, they help define a collective mind which suddenly takes on a life of its own where the whole is truly greater than the sum of its parts, much like a corporation that seems to have a purpose of its own. The more consciousness which believes in the egregore’s existence, the more semblance and definition this structure will have. The Watchers themselves exist on an astral plane—when they ‘interbreed’ with human consciousness, their form grows and creates half man/half god (material realization of a thought form). Fallen angels, the Nephilim, thus manifest in the same way that a self-aware flock seems to manifest in a collection of geese flying through the air. Whether or not these thought-forms truly exist on some other dimension or level is obviously up for interpretation and, again, personal belief.

The knowledge of how to create an egregore has always been kept from the people. What was not kept from the people, however, was their existence, for the creators of the egregores knew that the more consciousness which believed in their existence, the more battery-like power the egregore could use to manifest itself in reality, and if you have created that egregore yourself, you would hold the reins over the hearts minds of millions of people who obtain meaning and purpose through the perpetuation of the egregore’s ideals.

Eventually, the “giants of the land” always take over. It is at this point that these creations meant to serve man inflict punishment upon them. Ask yourself, for example, does the catholic church still serve man, or does man now serve it with no benefit? Does the corporation serve man, or does man now serve it? The Nephilim seek eternal life, working as desperately as possible to make it so, regardless of man. When you work for the catholic church, you do not want it to lose power. When you work for Microsoft, you do not want it to lose power. Your will is thus drawn upon by the egregore of these structures on the astral plane for their own eternal life and you generally aren’t even aware that your consciousness has sacrificed itself upon an altar of the gods. You just see a larger than life entity that continues to manifest itself in the hearts and minds of millions of people—but it is you that has made it so. Man is ultimately his own worst enemy.
There truly does seem to be some collective being known as the Roman Catholic Church. There truly does seem to be some collective being known as Microsoft. Do they exist? Does a flock entity exist? It would seem as if they do, and it is only the universe itself that can ultimately destroy these larger than life entities, through a catastrophic event, or in some other unknown way.
So then, why create, if your creations all become monsters? Because it gives the interconnected consciousness of man something to experience in order to understand itself and dream new dreams. Picture how you would dream, for instance, if no thought-forms were created that you could experience. Could you have a dream about a motorcycle if you never experienced one? Could you have a dream about a church if you have never experienced one? What would you dream if you didn’t have a material life upon which to reflect? These astral monsters are needed. They create a resistance for us all. We create our own resistance. It is every man’s right to create them, and it is this gift which will allow us to destroy those that have surrounded us all like a runaway train that is headed straight towards the dark cliffs of eternal abyss.

Be a creator, and not just a mentally vacant vessel of the thoughts and creeds of the current egregores around you that have possessed you and others from the astral plane. You are the starseed, the stem cell of something new. Own it. Be it. The collective god existing above the astral plane will sort the chaff from the wheat when we cannot. But it has given you purpose: a deep need to create. Don’t throw that purpose away.