Livin Your Best Life

First topic message reminder :

“Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.”

—Robert Frost - “Nothing Gold Can Stay”

Interesting what is happening here.

Do you see it?

Can you smell it?

It’s kinda obvious.

I say these things from here.

I prob sound like nonsense.

And nonsense I am.

I am amazed at how life has turned.

I’m just giggling these days.

I guess I hypnotized my self good.

But for the FIRST time in my life...

I stand as I am, nothing more or less.

I can die satisfied I lived my life.

I didn’t make too big a mess.

We will die and the world is just gonna keep on goin.

We have such short lives.

If you can, maximize your ease and peace.

Don’t take on the delusions of others.

Don’t take anything too personally.

Here we do wetware.

Why do we let appearances upset us?

Only the temporary is upset.

Only the dream.

That could just be a fib I tell my self.

To the Reader

Folly, error, sin, avarice
Occupy our minds and labor our bodies,
And we feed our pleasant remorse
As beggars nourish their vermin.

Our sins are obstinate, our repentance is faint;
We exact a high price for our confessions,
And we gaily return to the miry path,
Believing that base tears wash away all our stains.

On the pillow of evil Satan, Trismegist,
Incessantly lulls our enchanted minds,
And the noble metal of our will
Is wholly vaporized by this wise alchemist.

The Devil holds the strings which move us!
In repugnant things we discover charms;
Every day we descend a step further toward Hell,
Without horror, through gloom that stinks.

Like a penniless rake who with kisses and bites
Tortures the breast of an old prostitute,
We steal as we pass by a clandestine pleasure
That we squeeze very hard like a dried up orange.

Serried, swarming, like a million maggots,
A legion of Demons carouses in our brains,
And when we breathe, Death, that unseen river,
Descends into our lungs with muffled wails.

If rape, poison, daggers, arson
Have not yet embroidered with their pleasing designs
The banal canvas of our pitiable lives,
It is because our souls have not enough boldness.

But among the jackals, the panthers, the bitch hounds,
The apes, the scorpions, the vultures, the serpents,
The yelping, howling, growling, crawling monsters,
In the filthy menagerie of our vices,

There is one more ugly, more wicked, more filthy!
Although he makes neither great gestures nor great cries,
He would willingly make of the earth a shambles
And, in a yawn, swallow the world;

He is Ennui! — His eye watery as though with tears,
He dreams of scaffolds as he smokes his hookah pipe.
You know him reader, that refined monster,
— Hypocritish reader, — my fellow, — my brother!

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Benediction

When, after a decree of the supreme powers,
The Poet is brought forth in this wearisome world,
His mother terrified and full of blasphemies
Raises her clenched fist to God, who pities her:

— "Ah! would that I had spawned a whole knot of vipers
Rather than to have fed this derisive object!
Accursed be the night of ephemeral joy
When my belly conceived this, my expiation!

Since of all women You have chosen me
To be repugnant to my sorry spouse,
And since I cannot cast this misshapen monster
Into the flames, like an old love letter,

I shall spew the hatred with which you crush me down
On the cursed instrument of your malevolence,
And twist so hard this wretched tree
That it cannot put forth its pestilential buds!"

Thus she gulps down the froth of her hatred,
And not understanding the eternal designs,
Herself prepares deep down in Gehenna
The pyre reserved for a mother's crimes.

However, protected by an unseen Angel,
The outcast child is enrapt by the sun,
And in all that he eats, in everything he drinks,
He finds sweet ambrosia and rubiate nectar.

He cavorts with the wind, converses with the clouds,
And singing, transported, goes the way of the cross;
And the Angel who follows him on pilgrimage
Weeps to see him as carefree as a bird.

All those whom he would love watch him with fear,
Or, emboldened by his tranquility,
Emulously attempt to wring a groan from him
And test on him their inhumanity.

With the bread and the wine intended for his mouth
They mix ashes and foul spittle,
And, hypocrites, cast away what he touches
And feel guilty if they have trod in his footprints.

His wife goes about the market-places
Crying: "Since he finds me fair enough to adore,
I shall imitate the idols of old,
And like them I want to be regilded;

I shall get drunk with spikenard, incense, myrrh,
And with genuflections, viands and wine,
To see if laughingly I can usurp
In an admiring heart the homage due to God!

And when I tire of these impious jokes,
I shall lay upon him my strong, my dainty hand;
And my nails, like harpies' talons,
Will cut a path straight to his heart.

That heart which flutters like a fledgling bird
I'll tear, all bloody, from his breast,
And scornfully I'll throw it in the dust
To sate the hunger of my favorite hound!"

To Heav'n, where his eye sees a radiant throne,
Piously, the Poet, serene, raises his arms,
And the dazzling brightness of his illumined mind
Hides from his sight the raging mob:

— "Praise be to You, O God, who send us suffering
As a divine remedy for our impurities
And as the best and the purest essence
To prepare the strong for holy ecstasies!

I know that you reserve a place for the Poet
Within the blessed ranks of the holy Legions,
And that you invite him to the eternal feast
Of the Thrones, the Virtues, and the Dominations.

I know that suffering is the sole nobility
Which earth and hell shall never mar,
And that to weave my mystic crown,
You must tax every age and every universe.

But the lost jewels of ancient Palmyra,
The unfound metals, the pearls of the sea,
Set by Your own hand, would not be adequate
For that diadem of dazzling splendor,

For that crown will be made of nothing but pure light
Drawn from the holy source of primal rays,
Whereof our mortal eyes, in their fullest brightness,
Are no more than tarnished, mournful mirrors!"

— William Aggeler, The Flowers of Evil (Fresno, CA: Academy Library Guild, 1954)

Hmmmmmm?

hobbit

Spirituality is suicide.

No thanks.

The mind is capable of taking any experience or insight and turning it into a self-identity that actually creates a blockage from the real. Never be fooled by a mind that uses "mystical knowledge" as its name-tag. It certainly doesn't fool me. The real thing is not contained in one experience or another or anything that the mind can claim as its own, and anyone who knows it, knows it in others as well.

Yah, this kind of self hypnosis works is all I can say.

Oh boy does it work.

But ask yourself, do you really want to know the real?

Do you really want to step out of your illusion?

Could you?

The white whale is here too.

Can’t deny that can we?

That fucking white whale is in our swimming pool?

Or are we in his?

“Some explanation around the theory of Ceremonial Magick should help those with a rational mindset to understand what they are doing and why they are doing it.

Ceremonial Magick is a method of meta-programming or auto-suggestion. This is what Aleister Crowley said about it in   “Equinox Volume 1, Number 3”, “The senses and faculties must share in the work, such at least is the dictum of Western Ceremonial Magick. And so we find the magician placing stone upon stone in the construction of his Temple. That is to say, placing pantacle upon pantacle, and safeguarding the one idea by means of swords, daggers, wands, rings, perfumes, suffumigations, robes, talismans, crowns, magic squares and astrological charts and a thousand other things, ideas and states, all reflecting the one idea; so that he may build up a mighty mound, and from it eventually leap over the great wall which stands before him as a partition between two worlds”. Crowley goes on to say, "Crowley goes on to say, “However in the Western and Eastern systems, equilibrium is both the method and the result. The Western Magician wills to turn darkness into light, earth into gold, vice into virtue. He sets out to purify; therefore all around him must be pure, ever to hold before his memory the one essential idea. More crudely this is the whole principle of advertising. A good advertiser so places his advertisement that wherever you go , and whichever way you turn, you see the name of the article that he is booming”.

Many books have been written about Ceremonial Magick, but most of them are just a rehash of the actual steps of some basic rituals, very few of them go into the theory of what's happening psychologically, and ,perhaps, on other planes. From a practical standpoint, Ceremonial Magick is a method of self-induced, practical psychology. The Ceremonial Magician utilizes symbols, colors, sounds, incense, etc. to seed the unconscious with new thought forms. The psychology or mental states of most individuals remain  in a passive feedback loop between external phenomena and conditioned psychological imprints most of the time. The school of psychology known as behaviorism, founded by Dr. William James, elaborates on this idea in great detail. So the Ceremonial Magician begins to consciously manipulate external phenomena to seed the psyche with new thought forms - thought forms that are more in line with the objective of the operation ,or the Will of the Magician.

Lets examine the most basic of Thelemic rituals, the Lesser Banishing Ritual Of The Pentagram. In this ritual, the Magician traces a pentagram in each of the four quarters. These quarters are attributed to the four elements of the ancients(as well as many other things) and they correspond to different elements of the human psyche.

The top point of the pentagram symbolizes spirit(for the time being think of this as the abstract idea as the highest aspiration of the Magician or Will). Typically the Magician will light incense that corresponds qabalistically with the operation(to involve the sense of smell).

Next the magician traces a pentagram in the East. This element is attributed to the Qabalistic Sephira known as Yesod and represents the Unconscious. This is the substratum of one's psychology - containing unconscious impressions that have been received throughout the biographical history of the individual. As the Magician traces the pentagram in this quarter, he / she visualizes bright light behind the wand or finger tracing the symbol(involving aspects of vision and imagination to further seed the thought form). Next the Magician vibrates the appropriate divine name for the quarter(activating the sense of hearing toward the object of the operation...to further impress the idea into the unconscious). At all times the Magician is consciously aware of the symbolisms, and elements of this aspect of the psyche that don't comport with Spirit or Will are "banished."

Next the Magician turns to the South - attributed to the Element of Fire(and the sephira Netzach) - and traces the next pentagram. This element is attributed to desire and volition, here we are referring to the psychological imprints of attachment and aversion that motivate us to do the things that we do. By tracing the pentagram, the Magician is asserting the sovereignty of Spirit or Will over this aspect of the psyche.

Next the Magician turns to the West, attributed to the element of water(and the sephira Hod)  and the conscious mind and traces a pentagram. This is the part of the psyche that "connects the dots." It is attributed to the element of water because of it's fluidity - which is how the mind operates, one thought flowing into the next. By tracing the pentagram, this aspect of the psyche is brought ,symbolically, under the autonomy of the Will or higher self ..for lack of a better word.

The last pentagram is traced in the North. This direction is attributed to the element of Earth(and the sephira Malkuth) and the physical body,  Again this aspect of self is brought under control of Will. This notion of Will evolves over time. This dynamic unfolding of Self crystalizes out of an ongoing and increasingly intimate understanding of who and what one is(rather than a host of "sub-selves" that that are consecutively invoked via a loop of external impressions and stored imprints)  and ,consequently, what course of action is necessary.

This explanation is by no means complete. I have overlooked details of the ritual because it's more important to understand why you're doing what you're doing, not how to do it. A quick internet query will turn up detailed instructions on the actual performance of the ritual.“

smelly,

I couldn’t get the audio to work.......

Restart YouTube.

Sound works.

Yes.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t know what I’m doing on OMF. I usually just flow. I should probably post more in my own thread, but it happens as it happens. I didn’t think I was seeking anything here, but I suppose since my own high weirdness, I seem to have things happen beyond my understanding. I was curious. It’s funny I wrote so much. I had nothing to say. It was a dance with the devil and god and then my self. I am not a mystic or follower of any sect. But I am going to write about what someone might claim to be mystical. I don’t deny anything. I don’t know. I actually write to what I imagine as a grand Intelligence. Silly, I know.

Daemonic Contact

Recently there have been ripples from old friends in my life. I don’t share any of this silliness with anyone else. I made the mistake of letting people see inside my head. I am not a crazy person. I am like everyone else, moved by my emotions at times and thoughts. My mind is generally needing to be focused on something or I turn off more and more. I live for the cut off moments more and more, no work, no family, no friends, but my Den pack. It’s strange to look around and know it will all blow away.

Recently after letting most of the traditions I explored go, I had a real drive to dig into the esoteric side of the UFO phenomenon. When in Rome. To see how my experience compared to others’. I had delved deep before bobbing back up. I had some high weirdness I just let go unexplained. But it came back up. I never thought I had met any aliens on my journey, I saw them as spirits and ancient sages and shadows and helpers of shamans. I had known nothing about Gnosticism or the Perennial tradition. I didn’t know Greek thought well. So I was a babe in the woods. I knew nothing about Eastern religion either. What I had tried to let go, seemed to be coming back with a vengeance.

As I had begun and walked my turn into this strange place a few years ago, I had heard whispers of something as I sunk into my studies. I sought their source. I found in the esoteric traditions much idolizing seeking a conversation with something called your inner guiding Daimon. This intrigued me, but damn, the way seemed so daunting to attempt. It seemed like way too much work. I sought out some Thelemite types to see what they were like. Naaaa. Having to make my own way burned in me. At every turn Dan would accuse me of solipsism. Naaaa. I was deconstructing things and making weird connections.

I had met Dan a few years ago on OMF at the beginning for me and his knowledge was seductive and intense during my trips down under. I didn’t care about eschatology or religion or ufos or tech, I went existential, so how weird we would meet. I really enjoyed the pointers I was getting from Dan and where they led, some tasted bitter, some sweet. He was just one input output stream. He was one of the few who let me play. Though I often frustrated him. He thought I was showing off, but I was just following a protocol. Share what comes. I followed most of his prompts deeper down the rabbit hole.

I would come and share with Dan what I found. Most of the time he would say he felt sorry for me, called me dumb or found me too impish or selfish. I was perplexed. That just pushed me on. I’d show that dumb old man, I muttered. I’d learn what he was talking about and find what was behind it all yet. Haha. It was fun. And it got really weird.

My studies showed me how my mind needed discipline. How raw I was. How exposed my heart was. So I got to work. I felt all this was part of what made me work and I was right. I took a good look at my self and found some balance. It’s a daily walk. I felt out of my depth for sure here. I liked that. I liked not knowing what was going on and I gave my self to it. I took another leap.

Back to the Daemons. As I traveled through my inner mind amazing synchronicities would happen that silenced any doubt I was in the right space. I took them as signposts from a presence I felt but was afraid of. What had happened to me? Had I had a schizophrenic breakdown? I was not a depressive person. I was tired in life. It was a struggle for me. Health issues forced me into uncharted waters at work for the first time. I was tired trying to deal with the world inputs that didn’t match up to my inputs.

Things down that rabbit hole led me to great inner peace and more layers of my mind. I wasn’t scared. I was in wonderment at my mind. I suppose I had found the inner mirror and began to look into it. Life felt plastic and malleable. Could I really use my will to have any life I wanted? Was Love under will all of it? I began to reshape my self. I found ways to compensate for my broken antennas. I grew new ones.

As my focus increased, so did my productivity. As questions left me, what was underneath was visible. It was shiny and dented. So I hammered out the dents. Inside reflected an intense light, it blinded me in a flash. In time I would find a better way to look at the reflection of light inside. By looking at it reflected in a midnight lake under a full moon. What is this I wondered? Surely I am just making it all up I thought jokingly. Others though could see this leaking out of me now. I was clumsy with it. I was zapping people. I was zapping my self. Where did all this energy come from? I had to temper it. But only a few could see it and open up. We seemed to talk our own language of light. Help came when I needed it.

So Plato and Socrates spoke of this inner light they called daimon I found out. Could this force that I had jokingly found to be like a trickster and called the green man, be this Holy Guardian Angel Thelma spoke of, Plato’s Daimon? This concept I came to realize was another way to think other than reason and logic. It seemed a slippery slope to pursue this. Possibly leading to madness. But I kept hearing this voice, follow the way, follow your heart. Don’t follow anyone or thing else. I studied all I could for hints to the Daimon. It was fascinating. My mother would accuse me of consorting with the Devil if she knew what I was up to. That probably just pushed me into deeper water. I was intrigued delving into these forbidden thoughts. I wasn’t becoming more scared, I was grinning more and more as I let concepts go and what I thought I understood. I was open. Totally open.

I could feel life in way like never before. I had never let my self slow down and breathe. I met others along the way who pointed me. They came to me in a way where I didn’t doubt the communication at all. I didn’t feel like I was alone. I felt connected to something. The search for the Daimon led me to Greece and the Renaissance and Tarot and the Hermetic tradition. Dionysius the Areopagite said these daimons were elemental intelligences. That clicked. The gods as the progenitor of our emotions. I was not being overwhelmed, there was a gentleness and power to how I discovered all this. But chaos was always there. It was energetic. Not manic.

As the stories go, this Daimon mediates contact between us perhaps and a transpersonal consciousness. I was hearing and seeing things. Not voices. Inner dialogues. Shadows. I was making strange connections with strange attractors. I was making art and letting this flow through me. I didn’t stop it. Aristotle and others put a stop to this nonsense and setup a perimeter around the polis. I was wandering out into a deep dark wood. And somehow a goat had showed up and kept me company.

I now see the goat was my Daimon. And I know I am here in the middle of 3D life, just a reflection of reality. I found a framework in magick and hermetics and qaballah that seemed to allow more direct communication. I seemed to intuitively know how to move in this space. I would experience something and then think about it and learn what had maybe happened. It seems whatever these esoteric traditions were hinting at, but not saying, I found naturally. It freaked me out. I went into a mode shutting down my memory and thoughts. I turned off the projector just like that. But the weirdness kept going. But I just became a witness of it.

During these experiences I attempted shamanic rituals that seemed to work. I made art, began to write. I seemed to be able to speak with inner presences that spoke through all sorts of ways. Dan usually hit me over the head and humored me perhaps. I showed up. What was he gonna do? So I began to attack others’ points of view as viscous skeptic. I turned that on my self. I realized I knew nothing and suspected I couldn’t even trust my thoughts. I began to learn how I was being manipulated. I learned how to protect my mind. I setup defenses, by removing them. It was a fun time doing war with my own mind or the minds of others. I began to see we each had our own reality tunnels.

Then, finally, without my notice, weird ufo stuff happened in the world. I had stopped conceptualizing communication with this inner force. I looked outside. I kept an open mind. I began to see the weird connections between this phenomenon and the strange new way to hear the universe I had tripped on. I felt I should reflect out what was within. They seemed connected more and more. Another leap.

I shifted from observer to participant. I found others who had learned similar ways to attune to the world around them and voice inside. I accepted I was a weirdo like them, but didn’t know why. Living this way leads to doing not doing and spontaneous action. I wondered if I had crossed the Abyss. It seemed maybe I had. More and more all I could say was, don’t know.

A strange tale and journey to here or perhaps nothing special. High weirdness and cosmic triggers. It seems life has turned inside out...but I never left home.

There’s no place like home.

“You’ve always had the power, my dear, you just had to learn it for yourself.”

– Glinda

There is a fine line between shaman and madman, it’s a matter of focus and skill. There is a period of integration that is different for anyone who pays attention. There is perhaps an Otherworld or pluraverse. I went into this “invisible landscape.”

It seems shamans and drug addicts and psychotics are all overlap in the same venn diagram. Great, no one said this was easy. This is just what came to me. I chose a middle path and saw the shamanistic way of thinking difficult to do in our culture. At worst the shaman is a showy charlatan. But I resonated with Shaman as psychopomp. The shaman has always been a shape shifter.

We seem to have an existential impasse in the West. We are anguished by the imminence of death. Trapped in profane historical time and so we see death as nothingness. So the shaman may yet fill a role in this post modern age to help people transition to death.

A big challenge to navigate non-rational modes of thinking without retreating into myth. The shaman is the technician of the sacred of the heart. Shamans were tool users that have always used what works. Anything to get into the center of the stream. Psychedelics and natural substances represent a medicine and folk science.

Each shaman had to come into their own power naturally. They had to find their own keys. The ones that came to them. They have to recognize them. Modern shamans have no need of symbols and ritual really. Once you get your hands on the tech, you are good to go.

The shaman is on the edge of insanity and tipping over is a danger. When one centers the action on external entities this is where risk of insanity is greatest. For these experiences are all rooted in the self. One descends into psychological chaos. A cognitive reorganization often occurs due to encounters with the transpersonal. Culture can play a role in directing this. Shamans see reactive schizophrenia as a tool where the West pathologizes and rejects this path. Psychic reorganization has times where things fly apart to come back together in new configurations. One uses chaos here.

It’s a balancing act, a tight rope walk. Balancing on the razor’s edge between the outside world and the primary process within. The shaman performs an acrobatics of delire. To remain upright we keep to the middle. Balancing between skepticism and credulity, madness and myth, technique and mystique. John Keats called this “negative capability.” This allows practitioners to remain in uncertainties, mysteries and doubt without reaching after fact and reason.

I have stewed awhile in this uncertainty. It changes you, or uncovers your heart said poetically. The poet has to actualize the feelings and logos of the moment. Non evident beliefs inspired by experience are suspended in pure appearance.

It takes a radical empiricism to stay upright. We experience life but suspend the need for ultimate meaning. Consensus reality is ruptured. Either we are attracted to these ruptures or we cause them. It can swallow you up. A manic ego inflation can occur. But conviction is another danger, and one can imagine their experience as prophetic revelation. An obsessive esoteric system can rise up. An idee fixe. This way of thinking can unbalance radical empiricism.

Interacting with the Invisible Other is a balancing act. Here people can be lost in the geometries and maths. A house divided against itself will not stand. I have returned mostly to consensus reality.

But I can smell things. Some tightrope walkers have theorized that these resonances in experience or synchronicities are interference patterns caused by distant temporal causal events. The 4D universe is bound to a 3D matrix, has been called the eschaton.

A temporal structure capable of generating interference patterns in space and time. A set of eschatons made this occur. Terrence McKenna called this a Timewave. He theorized that all the eschatons would resonate together in unity and create an ontological transformation of reality. The Timewave modeled the degree of novelty that was “ingressing” at any particular historical moment. To prove this you have to define and be able to measure novelty. This is a speculation mainly then. A fantasy, not a falsifiable theory. When has novelty been maximized though, seems recently, much novelty has appeared. New politics. New tech. New cultural changes. Me too. A return to men being pretty. A man used to have to be pretty. When did the image of the tough man emerge in modernity? Teddy Roosevelt? Andrew Jackson? Terrence saw us heading to an omega point. A tractor beam has us he speculated. This theory actually was at the root of the 2012 Mayan thing.

Terrence had incredible counterculture influence. He was a real wizard.

We all can stumble and can lose our way in this invisible landscape. Sometimes you are led by one or more senses and they quickly can shift. Terrence crosses into religious vision. I have maintained an agnostic approach to any voice or vision and become skeptical of such. Sometimes I open all the blinds and let the light in, but I can’t do that long. I learn to meter my time letting my self join with these forces.

I can’t deny I’m on a rope, but I have not attached to a particular experience.

And come to find there is no place like home.

I’m looking into what DMT did to me. This author is related to an author who helped me find Ayahuasca. Looks interesting.

Alien Information Theory: Psychedelic Drug Technologies and the Cosmic Game https://www.amazon.com/dp/1527234762/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_OrYrDbS6N17WY

Also starting this one soon.

The Good People (Strange Attractor Press) https://www.amazon.com/dp/1907222405/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_api_i_NxYrDbTKH9B1T

Interesting. He’s been on a similar journey to my self and he was the one I used to get the courage up to try Ayahuasca. This prophetic connection Rick has made to explain DMT experiences as interactive mental processes and his leaving Zen, intrigued me as Dan is sticking to his prophetic guns. He found the shamanistic and Buddhist models lacking trying to understand the DMT experience. I wonder why he is onto the prophetic now.

Thelema is a revealed system that has also hand picked from other esoteric traditions that provides other ways possibly to analyze the psychedelic experience using Magickal thinking. I don’t know I am tracking Rick’s flow here. Is he looking for a new conviction, trying to prove some religious bias?

Poor Rick is a horribly nervous speaker, I wouldn’t do much better, but I’m going to stay on this thread. So he says God is the most subtle of forces and the Bible is a psychedelic text he suggests. Sure. I’ve read a lot of that book when I was a kid. I’d say it could be. You can read the Old Testament as koans and riddles, symbolic. The Kabbalists will say we know nothing about it as outsiders. It’s a code to them.

So Rick says you can know God through prophecy, which comes by way of the psychedelic circuits. Hear something, say something. The prophet relays the messages to the community. Rick calls this the prophetic state of consciousness.

What an odd subject for Rick to come out with after all his DMT work. I guess he saw synchronicities with Jewish mysticism and prophecy in the DMT personal experience people had in his studies. Why would a scientist begin to speak about spirt? I guess he got himself some religion. From Zen to prophecy, huh?

I still don’t get it.  



I had a talk with George Harrison in a Diner who seemed to sit in for God in an LSD vision. We had an interesting talk. He said he waited a long time to sit down with me. He said the talk was just for us, so I haven’t ever really spoken about it. Maybe I did meet God in that diner?!

Rick says the message seems to come down to the golden rule, love your neighbor and all that. Perhaps. It’s not about the equanimity of the individual he suggests, which corrupted the message of peace for the world. It’s not about individual enlightenment. Yah, I can go along with that. The point of the prophecy is peace, not apocalypse.

I worked it out, then I ate the pages I wrote it on and now I have forgotten it all. It seems I always held my self by the hand. I saw IT as a child. The child I forgot. I thought it spun around me, but like Galileo Galilei, I found my self spinning around the central sun. But then the walls melted and I could no longer hide inside my garden. I was carried out into the deep wood filled with eyez by fairiez. I was driven to the top of cold mountain where I met an old man who just muttered about butterfliez and flowerz and then I met a girl and we found some doggiez and fishiez and live happy on the edge of being filled with flowerz.

The search for enlightenment is a mental sickness.

You have no way to know if you are free.

You want to free others?

From what?

This?

While we live, I feel when we are done trying to escape, we have begun to live.

When we blame nothing for our life, we are done seeking.

The path of achieving a goal, is maybe necessary for some, but certainly not necessary.

So when you are done, you see there are no limits.

We have to reject all understanding, all paths to knowledge.

This is the only way I could go.

The search has no meaning to me.

So I cannot recommend any other path really.

I had no path of my own.

You can follow no ones path.

You can reject it all and let all goals go.

Paths lead nowhere.

You have a hope?

How nice.

Enjoy your fantasy I say.

I don’t fucking care

All goals positive and negative are meaningless.

I like Tolstoy.

My friends saved him til now.

In fact, he’s cracked it.

The church has always been fundamentally against nature.

It is one sign of our anger at nature.

The church is the Scarlet Woman.

There was never any mediation needed or possible.

It’s between you and yourself.

Keep running.

Keep hiding.

The goat faces fate...

And has become...Heretic.

Tolstoy pats me on the head and says...

Good goat...straight on.

Christ is not salvation.

He is destruction.

The end of all veils and mediators.

Dan, I fear you have fallen prey to a deception.

Let it be the best possible deception.

Perhaps, in this state, I am the best possible witness.

There is no salvation.

There is simply revelation.

No salvation was ever needed or offered.

I’ve always intuitively known this.

But how could all those muppets be so confused?

Because they sleep.

I’m not sure what happens next.

I shall leave this earth when it’s my time, but until then, I’ll have life as it is.

No more pretending.

I’ll trust in this completely.

As if I ever had any choice

I don’t have any fight in me really.

Real meditation is not sitting in silence doing nothing.

It is moving silently amongst the movement.

I feel that flow in my garden.

I feel that flow in my work.

I feel that in my family and with other muppets.

I feel that flow swirling into eddies within me.

The eddies are formed by my shape and form in the world.

I don't know what Dan is talking about with his metaphors really, I just play along humming to myself.

I know this flow.

I know if you are flowing or not with this.

There is no authority or god managing our life.

There is only what we focus on and no focus.

Struggle is so obvious, no struggle required.

I only speak from my experience, otherwise it is my opinion or my own personal interests that move me amongst the flow of this.

I make no real distinctions beyond appearances.

I need go no where.

No one need make a move toward me.

All is as it should be right now.

From that, silence resonates and permeates.

Each is eminent in their own domain.

Do not be distracted by fools or nonsense.

Today is one of the days that I will remember made life worth a damn.

Say and act like that everyday and you will THRIVE!

I am Post-Apocalyptic now. I do not care really for the movement of the world, though I keep an eye on it, lest it fall on me, which I couldn't really avoid anyway, so no struggle at all here to what is happening.

I feel no desire to move, but I am aware of movement.

I am about living the best life now as finely and with as much quality as I can.

That means until the ship totally goes under the sea, I'll play my violin on the deck.

The rest will work itself out.

Only when you see things have a value in themselves can u really live this life.

This is what self actualization really means.

I love this Christian existentialists writing, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nikolai_Berdyaev

You cannot just explain life through natural phenomena or social contract.

Part of us seems to stand apart from all this.

We can say no.

It is hard for us to say yes to reality in fact.

We can abstract.

We are in the cosmos, but not of it?

We can participate with and feel the objects.

Some have errantly described this as oneness.

We can’t talk about this mode of consciousness, but we can participate.

Ontology twists in knots trying to explain this mode of being, we can only point at this participatory state.

Participatory consciousness allows us maybe to fulfill our work as caretakers of the cosmos.

We do not create it, it is represented to us through consciousness.

This is where I am these days in regards to the sacred in life and beauty.

Propaganda misrepresents reality and is thus evil.

You can be a caretaking Gardner of life or a tyrannical land owner.

Those lights in the sky can be participated with.

You can stop trying to get value and work from the world and invite it to communicate with us, we can commune with cosmos.

This is the personal work one can take up to fully be here.

Civilization is needed, it isn’t perfect, but we cant do away with it all.

Th psychedelic experience is a window, but not the best way to deal with the world i realized.

Pragmatism and stoicism help me live in the world.

The world is tough and many worked hard to make this world.

Can we merge the left and right brain?

Don’t occupy walltreet, occupy your mind.

So I’m calling out the prevalent brainwashing propaganda as one way to make a better world.

Recently I have been thinking about the absolutely alien worlds I found within myself. It was intense. But I have never been able to resolve the tangles of life like I did in the inner mind. We help ourselves there. We learn what is true and what is not. You learn that you are chained. And it is yourself who binds yourself. I learned to control my beliefs about beliefs, metabeliefs, this is the key to wisdom.

You are flooded by consciousness when the barriers are removed.

You realize, oh shit, things are not exactly what they appear to be and are just what they appear to be.

Things in the world just happen when you need them to. Very mysterious to me.

What if the world is here as a foundation for bungie jumping into the depths.

Beliefs provide a framework, a hedge against chaos, a boat. One needs some code to form around or one can be flung off into space or swallowed by the depths.

Moderation and caution is advised.

Most stay distracted by the appearances, never venturing inside.

Society has setup many roadblocks.

Perhaps to allow us to mature before we can venture inside.

But mostly from fear maybe.

Others have encoded their fear of the Underworld into beliefs passed down since ancient times warning the elites to watch out letting people go too deep into themselves.

Why can’t I got there I asked?

Who is anyone to tell me what I can do or not in regards to researching my states of mind?

It is a shame we do not have more good practitioners to help people engage themselves.

You have to wade through so much shit to find quality.

It makes the search worth it.

We don’t heal, we give people mental bandaids.

True realization is knowing you are not broken.

The jungle calls sometimes, one should listen sometimes.

You just kind of feel what to do as you go.

The outer and inner seem to blend together after awhile.

Thoughts occur never before conceived.

A mind can’t really observe itself they say.

In fact it is the deep currents of thought and feeling that move us.

I barely went in and it has taken me 5 years to integrate my experiences to a point where I see myself performing better than I ever have due to the work done from my brief contacts with my inner mind.

I say inner because there are certainly airlocks and passages that must be looked for step by step.

I played with belief, I went around the world and tasted many new things.

It becomes a persistent awareness, or you just notice yourself.

Many great intellects have ended the search beyond language.

When consciousness has no object to focus on can lead one to a leap into nothing, very different from relative consciousness.

But that nothing is fullness.

I don’t believe in it.

I am that is this.

That gives one a awareness this is the real.

And this outward world seems to take on a dreamlike feeling.

It’s a swap of point of view.

Can be very disorientating.

I can’t say I was there.

It just is this.

There are no prophets or sages there, it is just alone with the alone.

Wished for Song

You’re song,
a wished-for song.

Go through the ear to the center
where sky is, where wind,
where silent knowing.

Put seeds and cover them.
Blades will sprout
where you do your work.

—Essential Rumi - p. 253

...

“Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.”

― Marcus Aurelius

...

When Chivo is less concerned about stopping the bad guys, he can be more helpful to the rest of us.

I can be pissed at things

It comes and goes

I can rage at the lie

Better than all these other wimps

I scream

I cry

I laugh

I wonder why

But then the sky opens

And my mother says

This is the best I could do

Forgive me

I love you

I’d say we were pretty damn fortunate to be here now.

There is a solution to the imbalance, unite.

Stop demanding.

I don’t know, seems pretty clear to El Chivo.

I quite like the idea of the 4th dimension where objects just come and go, appear and disappear.

That seems closer to reality somehow.



I do not think it wise to speak of consciousness.

That doesn’t really exist accept in our imagination I feel.