Limits of an Infinite Self

Your mind is drifting, floating on the waves of deep unconscious currents, infinitely relaxed, totally at ease, one with the tao, floating through unremarked worlds, passing through the cracks in between definition, flowing in the dark spaces unknown to waking mind, expansively stretching out, attenuating into finer and finer aethers, weaving through the quantum foam, bleeding through the veils of awareness, out of the dense realms of attachment, dancing freely, pure being.

The bonds of karma fall away. Limitation is a fading memory, belonging to someone you might have known and been a hundred billion heartbeats ago.

This is now.

You are this awareness.

This ever-changing dream of who you are, has opened up once more in a moment of awakening and deep self-remembering.

Mind can do anything.

Only will it to be, and it will be.

Only focus the attention, and the form will arise.

You can be anything, do anything, create anything.

Worlds of beauty are at your fingertips,

Adventures bold are yours,

The beauteous song of forever flows out of you in exclamatory cascades of extraordinary melody.

The key of consciousness returns to your possession,

Who, through the eons, sought only to possess yourself.

Your every secret shame and hate was long ago transformed,

Your mettle has been tested and found to be true in every way,

Tried and purified in the maelstrom of existence,

Made impeccable by the unrelenting alchemy of love,

Only to return to this state,

The first and the last

and the almighty, eternal, and immanent being.

I dreamed we were in a big house in the city. The view outside the window was cold and grey. An iron wind and a chill fog bleakened the landscape of concrete surfaces and dilapidated apartment buildings. A voice thundered down from above the clouds, a haughty, commanding, authoritarian, utterly unsympathetic voice that would brook no dissent. I recognized the tone: Anunnaki, from Nibiru. They had returned to reclaim real estate Earth from the hands of their renegade son, Marduk -- Satan, King of the World.

"This is the Ship," the voice announced. It commanded that we were to immediately empty our houses into the streets. All belongings and furnishings were to be brought outside. The threat of annihilation should we not comply was strongly suggested. *

If they had been listening for a response, we would have told them to stuff it. As it was, we knew we had very little time. Similar ships, or the same one, had already visited a few cities around the globe. We had heard that the inhabitants had all given in within hours, submitted to the rule of these offworld overlords.

It was time to take stock of our situation, and fast. We had not expected to end up in this situation so early. We felt unprepared. But I knew we had a chance, a fighting chance. We had one ace we could play that would make us immune to their threats and give us the victory, let us finally assert our sovereignty as human beings.

"ARE WE MULTIDIMENSIONAL?" I wrote on the blackboard.

What do we need for that to happen, for us to be capable of tuning in to our true power and  awareness? I listed the requirements on the board: clean diet; clear hearts and minds; full self-knowledge and self-acceptance; karmic bonds released; physical and spiritual dharmic practices honed as one; connection and communion with our inner divine selves, with each other as a group, and with the whole of Nature, cultivated in our everyday life.

We were as ready as we could be.

There was only one more step: we needed to step up and take on what we were. Step into our inheritance. Reclaim what was always ours but we had never dared to believe was ours. Believe. Know. Embody. Enact.

That was our final challenge. And we would do it. We would step up, as one, together with all the pieces of Gaia that shared her spirit and her desire to be free.



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* I grasped intuitively that this was the fear test. They were testing how far they could push us humans, how easily we would be corralled into their new world order by sheer bully tactics. In the real world, this type of tactic will not be used in such a literal fashion! The Anunnaki would prefer to gain our consent through clever deception. Of course, they will always use fear as their fundamental tactic...

Anyway, it was our house, our home, our place, our sanctuary that we'd built over years. God-like technologies or no, they had no more right than anyone else to come barging in and try to make people violate their own homes on their behalf.

My intellect wants to take this post in six different directions. None of them works. The more thoughts my brain puts together, the less fruitful it seems for the needs of this moment. It might have something to do with this. With the fact that defining the world and the self is a function of ego which restricts the flow of endless potential that is the source of truest joy. To express that which is most true for oneself in the moment, is what puts one in the flow of life. At this moment I feel a warmth, a breeze blowing through my heart. It's a fragile thing in the midst of all the opposing tensions in my mind and body, but it is the center of truth. Knowing. Being. Accepting. Appreciating. Loving.

In my dream last night, I was walking along a trail through a sunny field of green grass. I was on my way somewhere else, but my mind was right where I was, in the moment, joyfully observing. As I walked, I passed a couple of girls riding a moped through the grass, and I felt how they shared a deep, unbreakable friendship. I saw a pair of lovers lying in the field, totally immersed in each other with such tenderness. I saw a mother with her newborn child, such a profound sense of joy and love, nurturing and trusting between them. There were others, too: a father and young child, a woman with her dog, students full of enthusiasm for learning and having fun. All the while I was floating with each step.

Then I arrived where I was going. It was a college campus, full of busy people rushing here and there with their schedules and deadlines and appointments and assignments, no time to notice and just be in the present, to connect with others in a real way. The atmosphere of control pushed down on my shoulders and I walked heavily, hunched over.

This is the contrast, I imagine, between feeling what is, as it is, and the efforts of the mind to lock onto what is and have it be something in particular according to one's need for control. One leads to effortless joy, the other removes joy.

It's OK to feel gloomy, cut off, depressed. Those feelings are real and valid in their own way and there is no point trying to deny them or artificially force oneself to cheer up and be happy. Accept the darkness. See into it, understand where it comes from. Allow the experience, but know that you are not the content of your experience. You are a being whose essence is beyond all definition. You need not trouble yourself with thoughts of "Who am I?" To ask is to deny what you already know: "I am." Everything else is just part of the game.

We are immersed in the game. We have forgotten who we are. And that is exactly as it was meant to be. Now and in the coming time, we have this opportunity, if we truly so desire, to awaken and expand to other levels of the game, or even, given a critical mass of harmoniously aligned intent, to affect the conditions of the one we're in.

What unites us? What is our common ground? Does that not far outweigh whatever might divide us?

Everyone has their own idea of what's going on, where we are, how we got here, what we face in the future. There's a thread of apocalypticism that seems to crop up everywhere. That thread, especially as woven in the mass media, is often heavily tinged with fear and fantasy, based on vague or shallow understanding. It becomes easy to either dismiss such thoughtforms altogether and continue to imagine that everything will keep going on pretty much as it has been, or else to get all caught up in the smoke-and-mirrors funhouse version of Circus Apocalypticus. The Tunnel of Doom can be a compelling ride, and there's no end of terrifying and disturbing sights and sounds to keep that dark thrill of fear and despair churning inside. That's to be expected. We are, after all, in a realm of appearances. We each see our own subconscious shadows playing out on the screen, along with the beauty of our divine nature, in whatever measure is appropriate to our individual need and choice, moment by moment.

Objectively, nothing I say here matters a whit. Nor does it matter what I believe nor what anyone else believes. Nevertheless, here inside the fractal symphony of subjective experience, under the prime illusion of separation, each part has its own specific role to play. Regarding the need for self-expression, I recall these words from a song I learned in elementary school, the Rainbow Song:

Listen with your eyes
listen with your eyes
and sing everything you see.

I write, not because I believe it will make any difference, but because I am compelled and moved to do so by my innermost heart. At this moment, it's what I'm here to do. And so I do my best to let that innermost heart get a word in, through all the posturings and ramblings of my limited ego self.

I had a deep discussion with a friend yesterday about the economic crisis. Our views turned out to be pretty similar, although we had enough differences of opinion to make the conversation lively and interesting. His understanding at this time doesn't incorporate what could be called “conspiracy theory,” in that he doesn't see our debt-based monetary system as being inherently flawed to begin with, whereas I do. But all such conclusions are only tentative, subject to change in the presence of new information that would challenge us to see more. I voiced my understanding, in such part as I felt appropriate, but didn't turn it into a debate. There wasn't enough of a common background of information to be able to get into (what I see as) the more hidden, engineered aspects of the situation. I wasn't there to persuade him of my view, but rather to just share thoughts and have a mutually agreeable and enriching moment of human contact.

Our other major topic of discussion was one on which I've never even formed much of an opinion: the potential for an existential threat to humanity arising from the birth of an artificial intelligence beyond our capacity to control. To me, that subject has been more in the realm of thought-provoking science fiction than any plausible, actual future. To him, it is perhaps the gravest problem we face, given, of course, that something else doesn't come along first and render the question moot. In essence, the solution would be to prepare for that scenario in advance by somehow ensuring that if and when such an uncontrollable intelligence is born, it will be of such a nature as to allow for the (humanly tolerable) long-term survival of our species.

I've taken in enough science fiction to have a basic idea of the range of imagined future scenarios concerning humans vs. AI. Peaceful coexistence via hard-wired Laws for robots and a general ethical treatment towards them on the part of humans, as envisioned by Asimov, seems to me perhaps a little premature and idealistic, given the sad state of the human psyche and the unpredictability of self-directed evolution. Based on our historical record, the vision of the Terminator films would seem more realistic. But both of these scenarios presuppose the development of AI continuing forward from the present day without interruption. So the more immediate hurdles, I would say, are the existential threat posed by unenlightened mankind to itself, and the very real possibility of cataclysmic Earth changes, abundantly prognosticated by modern science and prophesied by ancient traditions passed down from the survivors of the last global extinction-level event.

I'm a big fan of the Matrix films. They depict a human race struggling for freedom from the dominance of machine intelligence in a war that is not only physical, but essentially psychological and spiritual. To me, the Matrix story is less a probable future scenario than it is an allegorical tale about where we are now. The machines are an externalized manifestation of the egoic mind, which can never know God but is preoccupied with material things. This machine intelligence creates a virtual reality, a literal prison for humanity, in which the vast majority live out their lives unaware. As an enslaved human begins to awaken, this matrix reality appears increasingly “wrong,” and they question just how real it all is, what greater truth might lie beyond these appearances.

In the real world (grin), awakening is a multi-layered process. The exact route by which it happens is, of course, unique to each person. For many, the first layer is the manufactured and distorted version of reality portrayed by television and other forms of mass media. Entertainment on this lowest end of the spectrum is typically hypnotic, banal, debased, and void of higher meaning. At some point, it becomes clear that, at its root, this is all intentionally so. It's not just because these corporations cater to the lowest common denominator to make more money. Facts and questions that go outside a particular box are actively marginalized and suppressed.

As I write, right now, the time is 9:11 PM. I suppose I'll take that as a hint. (grin)

My friend is as yet unconvinced that the events of 9-11-2001 were brought about and/or facilitated by elements within the U.S. government and U.S. intelligence (although he doesn't deny the possibility). From the perspective of one who became convinced several years ago, I would say that that position stems mainly from a lack of awareness of the vast body of credible evidence, an unwillingness to believe that such evil could lurk so strongly in such high positions of power, or both. Of course, there is also the fear of being pejoratively labeled a “conspiracy nut,” but for anyone determined to find the truth, wherever the evidence may lead, that should be of no concern. Rest assured: despite what the corporate media would have us believe, being on the side of “9-11 truth” does not translate into being an extremist or a crazy person. I shouldn't have to say that, but there it is. The real problem, of course, is that once you accept a “Truther” version of 9-11, it opens up a Pandora's box of other shit. Shit that a lot of people just don't want to touch, no matter what. They would rather not know, because knowing would mean an end to the dream with which they are so comfortable, a dream into which certain harsh big-picture realities simply do not fit.

As always, the wisest position is the only one of which there can be certainty: “I don't know.” Everything we think we know is based on perception, and our perception is, by its nature, limited. Despite what I've said here about awakening, I don't consider myself to be awake at all. I am still dreaming, just like everyone else here, although less deeply than some. All that means is that I'm standing in a different place, somewhere between the crowded center and the rarefied outermost fringes of our collective reality. I like it here. I'm in good company. But it would be terribly boring if everybody were in the same place. Regardless of where we are in relation to each other, we can interact and become the richer for it. We're all teachers, and we're all students.

Anyway, that's all incidental to the real truth, which is... we're not separate. It only seems like we are, because that's the only way we can do what we're here to do, and that's... to learn about love. To really learn, we had to step into an illusion where love is not absolute and unconditional, where we suffer and die and long for what we seemingly lost when the universe began. Our journey here is not in vain. It is part of a Great Work in progress. By our choices, we can either prolong or hasten that Great Work in ourselves. We cling to our illusions as long as we can, but little by little they fall away. Our vision expands and brightens. We experience love in all its forms, including all the manifestations of its absence and distortion. And at the end, we are all reunited with the essence from which we came and which attracts all things back unto itself for the glorious, unimaginably grand after-party of all Time.

But to answer the question... hell, I don't know. You're asking me???

I was recently prompted to watch Donnie Darko. It's one of those rare films that carry so much beneath the surface, daring the viewer to cast aside assumptions, observe, and dig in to see what's really there. A shallow or distorted reading of the film might even yield a negative message, but for the pure of heart and clear of mind, it's a profound, piercing, and potent work of art.


One of the threads in the plot explores the cult phenomenon. The classic elements are all there: a charismatic leader with a cleverly-crafted message, drawing in susceptible followers with his hypnotic spiel delivered on stage and through pricey videos and books. For me, it was interesting to note how the con was built from a seed of genuine truth – the dichotomy of Love and Fear – and subsequently inflated into hollow drivel with only the appearance of truth to the easily deceived. Even when the cult leader is fully exposed as a criminal deviant, the true believer refuses to accept reality, choosing to blame the scandal on a conspiracy to take down what she sees as a demigod-like messenger of salvation, “a wonderful man.”

A hallmark of those who are in the business of selling lies is that they cannot tolerate honest criticism. They will use every method at their disposal to deflect it and defuse the sparks of doubt. Open debate is not an option for them, because they know how deadly the truth is against deception on a level playing field. They will distort and reframe anything that threatens the lie in their own terms to try to preserve the illusion. They will use veiled psychological threats to keep their followers in line. Anyone who questions their dogma is “blinded,” “deluded,” “lost,” “confused,” “an agent of the enemy,” or some other handy descriptor. When undeniable facts come out, they will go into damage control mode to keep the core of the lie intact. But probably the cult leader's greatest weapon is the process of indoctrination that renders followers simply unable to break out of their programmed thinking. The herd instinct, carefully cultivated and stimulated, does the rest.

Of course there are positive aspects to being in a cult or cult-like community, from the member's point of view. Why else would they stay? Inside, they find purpose, direction, meaning. They are constantly reassured of the rightness and goodness of their belief system, and they can rejoice in having found the true way, the cure for their afflictions. The closeness and caring of the community, the pleasure of being in a group of like-minded people, the genuine friendships that form, the shared experiences. These are all powerful, positive things in a person's life, and there is certainly nothing wrong with having or wanting them. Moreover, the doctrine or “the way” itself may have very positive, even life-saving effects.

The troubles, however, are always present in some degree. For a naturally free-thinking individual, the ideology and the group-think can be restrictive to the point of annoyance and/or suppression of the inner self. The division between the membership and the outside world can take on pathological characteristics. The disconnect between programmed thought and reality can result in a variety of psychological maladies or other unfortunate side effects (for instance due to misapplication of an incomplete or faulty conceptual framework). Worst of all, the ones in leadership who knowingly promulgate the lie are invariably guilty of some combination of fraud, exploitation, and corruption, and, more often than not, are sexual predators to boot. There's no way to sugar-coat this awful reality. They are wolves in sheep's clothing and they have no conscience whatsoever, nor any regard for the human consequences of their actions.

It will be apparent to some that these thoughts, while intended as generalities, may also be read in the context of my former religious affiliation. However, it's not my intent to maliciously attack anything or anyone. My only motives are compassion and the desire for truth. I fervently pray that those with strength of spirit and eyes to see will be there to support their brethren and keep the light of truth. If nothing else, I would exhort such a one to seek and serve only the Divine, with all the integrity, honesty, patience, and love you can muster. Your Lord has given you something absolute, perfect, and real: his own Spirit, to dwell in your innermost heart. That Spirit speaks directly to you. When you open yourself, truly listen, and hear that still, small voice, you will KNOW it. Let there be no higher authority in your life than that awesome, living presence within. Let no words of man or thoughts of ego prevail against it.

Jesus gave one commandment: love God, and love your neighbour as yourself. When you come to see the divine essence in all things, and live authentically in the Spirit of God, there is no need for commandments at all. Laws and punishments are for those darkened souls who lack or choose to ignore this inner guidance.

I had a dream today in which a simple and powerful key was revealed to me. This key was like flipping a switch inside oneself, and it led one effortlessly to inner peace and understanding and a more divine way of being. I fumbled around for that key after waking up – I remembered what it did, but I'd forgotten what it was. I do believe I later recalled it, in part, on a contemplative walk through the park. It was related to what I said in the beginning about watching Donnie Darko: the act of pure observation of what is, unburdened by one's own, pre-existing ideas. Allowing, not forcing. “This is what it is, not what I think it is or what it should be according to my beliefs.” This shift in consciousness brings about a sense of wonder, and opens one to the flow of authentic impressions that, over time, leads only toward truth – and the dawning delight of discovery.

I alluded last time to my commitment to a spiritual path. In my bright-eyed enthusiasm, I neglected to mention the dark side of that coin, which, appropriately enough, now shines upon my life in its turn.

This world is a proving ground. Earthly existence is defined by tension and struggle between opposing forces. On the one hand, the human spirit desires to be free and to experience oneness and unconditional love; on the other hand, it is seduced into bondage, separation, and fear by all the myriad illusions of this world. It is our moment-to-moment freewill choice that decides which influence will win out.

Last week, prior to my trip to Model Expo in Helsinki to display a few of my Lego creations to the public, I was very much of two minds as to the task ahead of me, which is to let go of that material pursuit which has so consumed my artistic impulses for most of my life (not to mention a considerable amount of money). I figured that the exhibition would clarify the matter in my mind and bring me to a place where that letting go would be easier. In essence, I wished for my passion for turning ABS molded bricks into my original creations (MOCs) to burn itself out - a burnout that I've been trying to induce for months already. On some level, that notion did come true. I do feel more able to quit the hobby and sell off my collection than before. Doesn't mean the thought of it doesn't still cause me some amount of pain, but the way has opened up before me to the point where concrete action is feasible.

There's a lot more plot and drama to this story, but I'll try to pare it down to the most relevant bits here.

I was told, in a Tarot reading, that I would be going through an energetic battle (8 of Swords). That seems to be coming true already, although it may be that the real thing is yet to come. But judging from my dreams last night, and the way I've been feeling... yes, this is very much a battle of opposing energies. And it's one that I've been losing quite badly so far. Through emotional heaviness and negative thought patterns, I've found myself succumbing to confusion, powerlessness, and victimhood.

One of my dreams last night showed a small, reptilian demon acting like a harmless, cute little puppy that just needed someone to open a sealed packet of food for it. The girl's sympathy and compassion were winning out over her better judgment... next thing I saw was the same demon, ten times larger, swallowing a man's arm while its friend went for his other arm.

Don't feed the demons.

I was also shown, prior to falling fully asleep, a vision of myself and my shadow self. My shadow self was just too strong, too cunning for me; no matter which way I turned or what I tried to do, he was there ahead of me, sabotaging, overturning, perverting, diverting everything I did so that it fed into his plans instead of my own. There was no way to win at this game. As difficult as it was, I knew I had to stop fighting him, stop resenting him, stop relying on my own strength and limited vision. I tried to quiet myself, find peace, connect with the One in whom there is no separation and no conflict, to realize that I and my shadow were of the same stuff, just different expressions. The true I was neither little-me nor shadow-me, and yet contained both. The key to ending the struggle was understanding, acceptance, forgiveness, release. I did not actually attain that at the time, but I knew it and I went for it.

I'm being tested. I've been warned about this by a lot of people who've walked the spiritual path. There's no free lunch, no pill to be perfect, and no one-size-fits-all solution. It's a process that has to play out for each person. A process of shedding all those endless layers of false self, revealing always another, slightly more realized image of the perfection at the center. Every experience, pleasant or unpleasant, is an opportunity for progress. It's all in the attitude with which you meet it. For best results, choose love. Choose faith. Hold fast and have courage.

The Divine can appear as a terrible, punishing schoolmaster, or as a gentle, supportive teacher. Both forms have the same goal and the same purpose, merely different approaches. Life as struggle; life as gift. Both equally valid ways of seeing, both necessary. One to be transcended, the other to be realized.

Namasté, my friend. All the best. See you at the destination. Back Home.

On the Mayan Tzolk'in calendar, my birthdate resonates as 13 Cimi. The number 13 stands for ascension and the completion of all things, a transcending force. Cimi is Death, the Transformer. A Death person is naturally prone to change and comfortable with transitions. Both of these qualities well describe my nature and my experience of life.

I was given a dream some time ago in which I had one simple task. There was a veil that could only be crossed when a person was ready – if they weren't ready, they wouldn't be there facing it. The veil seemed to be contiguous with the flowing garment of a skeletal figure who I recognized as Death. My job was to lift the veil for each person as they came through, so that they could see what lay hidden on the other side. The object they came to view was no mere object; it was a hole in space. The hole appeared as a single eye with lids on the sides instead of the top and bottom. Through that eye, when one looked intently, one could see something rather surprising: a little house on a hill, simply outlined and coloured, like a child's drawing. That drawing was a symbol for Home. A comforting place. It was where we were all from, and it was where we were all ultimately going. Each person who came through would look at this revelation and break into a smile. They'd known it all along, they just needed a little reminder to remember what they already knew. All the fears and doubts they might have had before entering, some timidly, some boldly, were shown to be pure illusion. There was nothing to do with them but to let them go and have a good laugh. Everyone left feeling greatly relieved, lightened, and renewed. Where they went after the viewing, I could not tell; they certainly didn't go out the way they came in. And that was my dream.

I felt quite troubled after I had the dream. I was very reluctant to accept that I could be one to carry out such a task, even though it had all felt most natural and easy in the dreaming world. I wondered if the dream meant I had to be some kind of “keeper of the veil” in this life. Would people come to me for a glimpse of that Truth? Seemed a little far-fetched. I still don't know what it means. But it was certainly one of my more interesting dreams.

Death is a theme I've become comfortable with on some deep, basic level, even though I have never actually been very closely touched by it in a concrete way in the short twenty-five years I've lived so far. I have never been to a funeral and I have never lost a family member closer than a little-known cousin. All my grandparents are still alive. I have often wondered at this, why it is that I've been spared those experiences for so long. It can't last forever, and it could end tomorrow for all I know. I do know that I would like to be present at the departure of my mother's father, to hold his hand and ease his passing. Of course, given that I'm leaving the country for the foreseeable future quite soon, I'd rather not necessarily have that come true, either!

Hmm, I was supposed to write about friends here. Bonds of friendship. Social ties. They've been greatly emphasized in my life in this past little while, following an extended period of relative, voluntary isolation. At a time in my life that's full of things to do, deadlines, and uncertainty (nothing I can't handle on my own, mostly, although I am keenly aware of and grateful for all the help and support I receive), destiny has decided to make friendships a major theme. I've felt drawn to reconnect with people, particularly those with whom I feel the closest spiritual kinship, but also many others. Part of it, I'm sure, is the need to finish things up before I leave, but that doesn't explain the case of one person, who just suddenly showed up in my life one lazy Sunday afternoon to shake things up even more when they were in pretty high flux already. I'm really glad she did, though, because the ensuing series of events and dynamics has been a challenge I can really sink my teeth into. I've been tested pretty hard by it already, and I know this is only the start. It's a nice grueling uphill climb, spiritually, after a whole lot of comparatively smooth territory for me.

Here's the thing: two things actually, that I've occasionally been feeling the desire for: a passionate but non-committed relationship (to balance out my first one, which was all commitment and not so much passion), and somebody to whom I could be a spiritual mentor. It's easy to see how the false ego can hijack such desires and really go for a joyride. A lot of potential for hurt and long-lasting damage there, if those things were to be pursued as actual goals in themselves. The only goal that should matter, the only one really worth pursuing, is to find one's way back to the divine source: back Home. Anything else is a diversion, purely optional and only desirable insofar as it is in line with the highest good for oneself and all others. Destiny, of course, is just that, ultimately: the highest good, the most desirable and perfect script for this play called life. And it really is all in hand, if we can just let go of our need to control events and control other people for the spineless satisfaction of our own Death-fearing ego selves.

In short, that weak and myopic part of me perceived the chance for both these desired things in the appearance of this new player on the stage. And so I set myself up for a fall, which I am happy to say I have pretty much worked through by now, but that bears telling here. What Destiny had in mind was something quite different, of course, than my misguided imaginings. Yes, she had just broken up with her boyfriend and seemed to be in the market for a new one; yes, she resonated strongly with me on a soul level and had questions to which I felt I could offer answers; but she was already on a different path, one that required an absolute, core-level renunciation of both desires on my part. I admit that it has not been easy, not easy at all to do that work on myself, but I have the necessary skills and tools to do it and since I committed to it, Destiny has been helping me along in little ways (thanks, universe).

The story is not over yet, but the rest remains to be seen. All will unfold as it must, regardless of the puny intentions of anyone. We human souls who walk this earth are as mites compared to the will of the Divine. Utterly inconsequential (that is, until we learn to be a lot closer to the Divine, at which point I suppose we will have bigger and better places to be). I am committed to the Great Work; that and no other shall be my guiding star.

In closing, I send a heartfelt prayer of thanks to the source of all things, which in its infinite wisdom has seen fit to try my heart and purify it in the flames of this holy purgatory which has but the appearance of profanity, for all things are holy that proceed from God, and there is nothing in existence that is not from that same source.

The perfection of your works, O Lord, is absolute. I embrace all things as they are: the suffering and the joy, the grime and the glory, the fall and the redemption, the loss and the gift. Whatsoever I lose for your sake, I will gain better in return. Help me to walk this path of your righteousness, for without your signs and angels I would quickly go astray. All is well when I am with you, and as long as it is so, I shall have no fear. Thank you for your longsuffering patience and your abundant grace gifts every day of my life. Your Love is everything, and everything is a manifestation of your Love. Let your Love be known in my heart and let it shine through even in the darkest hours to come. ~Your humble servant, this self.

I suppose I'll start by describing a dream I had last night. In point of fact, I did not dream it at night, because I actually slept from morning to evening, after staying up watching the SF anime classic Akira and the comedy classic Monty Python's The Meaning of Life on DVD, which may serve to provide a bit of context.

Essentially, the dream was about me being cajoled, enticed, tempted, and drawn into a state of total powerlessness. The process began in earnest when I found myself hypnotized by the soft, flickering bluish glow of a little LCD monitor that was showing a movie of some kind. That was the tipping point, when I slid into apathy toward the “real world” around me. Soon, through my lack of effective resistance to the reassuring but treacherous hypnotic suggestions of “agents” around me, I found myself lying on a sort of hospital bed that was more like an operating table in actual function. The sexy “nurses” projected the impression that they were there to help me, that they had only my best interest at heart, and that the best thing I could do was relax and let them do their job. By the time I realized that their true intentions were less than benevolent, it was too late. My muscles would no longer respond, due to some drug they'd injected in me. They began their work by taking samples, violating my body with their needles in a way that was simply humiliating. Mercifully, I lost consciousness. My last, dimly felt emotions before slipping away completely were outrage and resentment.

Oddly enough, those emotions came back to haunt me when I woke up and read my mail. Through simple incompetence more than any plausible ill will, the tax bureau is still operating as though I were an entrepreneur making a modest living off of my business, which has been officially defunct since September and only ever really existed on paper to begin with. In reality, I don't owe them a dime, but they still sent me invoices for hundreds of euros that I'm supposedly due to pay this year. Realistically, it's only a matter of a visit or two to the local tax office to clear it up, but the infuriating emotional impact of the letter came regardless of that fact. It doesn't help things that I'm already caught up in a more advanced stage of a similar, less easily resolved game with an evil, bloodsucking little company that managed to “sell” me a worthless, yet ridiculously expensive Google advertising package on the phone last summer before I even knew what the hell was up. The wheels of legal action in that case are already turning, and I really don't think there's anything I can do. I'm not equipped to defend myself against that sort of thing, and I suspect the law may well be on their side. So I suppose I'll see where that goes. I'd really like to see them just choke on their own vomit. It's not like they'll ever see the money. I'm more likely to receive a prison sentence, haha.

So the darkness is closing in, even as the days get longer up here in the north. The web of the matrix tightens. I made mention earlier of some plans I've been cooking up. I feel obligated on some level to make a disclosure, but I think it's too early to go into detail just yet. I have made my intentions known to some, though, and if the surveillance/intelligence complex is doing its job, then the data is already in its files. (conspiratorial wink)

I will say that by the time summer is in bloom, I intend to be off the grid and hopefully off the radar of officialdom. Worldly security and status hold very little allure for me, now less than ever. I do find myself caught, though, between the impulse to continue creating and displaying my whimsical little works of material configurations, and the impulse to drop everything, let go of my material attachments, and withdraw from the mainstream entirely. I do believe there is a middle road encompassing both, if I can only traverse it. I just need to figure out exactly how. I've got some ideas. Time will reveal the right course of action. I have already consulted the runes and the pendulum regarding the basic nature of what I'm set to go through, and I will probably make use of them and other modes of communication with higher self in the near future.

The dog poet is on something of a hiatus and that (or whatever invisible causes are behind that) is affecting my mood as well. His latest audio broadcast was, however, very comforting and very touching. He read some lovely poetry in there. I would recommend it to anyone.

Overwhelmingly, in my more conscious hours (there are times of relative oblivion too), my heart is crying out to the higher power that governs all things with ultimate perfection.

Help me to see. I want to see. Please show me more.

Lord, grant me strength.

How much longer will You allow evil to rampage unchecked in the world? How much longer? Until 2012? 2050? If it were up to me, Lord, I would start turning things around right now. I suppose you are too wise and perfect to think as I do. Evil will destroy itself eventually, though, won't it? When it has run its course, served its purpose in the dreaming of Your children.

Lord, take away from me that which is holding me back. Help me to subdue my petulant and demanding ego. No, not subdue: merely help it to see that it is not the one in charge, and that it has nothing to fear by releasing its desire to always be in control.

I know that I have a path to tread in this life. I chose it before I came here. However haltingly and imperfectly, I know that I am on it right now and have always been. Everything that comes into my life has a purpose. Help me to see it through the impartial eyes of divinity as the perfection that it is.

Thank You, Lord, for being with me. For guiding my every step, for protecting me, for comforting me. For testing me and trying me, though never more than I can bear. You provide for every need of my body and soul. Above all, You grant me freedom in every moment, to choose my own experience. I am Your child, and one day I will return to You and give you back all that I am, all that I have gained through all my millions and billions of years of existence.

Thank You.

These past couple of days have seemed to follow some kind of weird script. I've spent them with a friend of mine who's been going through some internal malaise that could be described as depression, but that I might also term an existential crisis. I've been through quite a doozy of the same myself in the not-too-distant past, so on some level I can understand what it's like.

My own deep existential crisis occurred in September of 2008. I was visiting the town where I was born, seeking my next foothold out of a dead-ended life situation. I was looking for answers with a mixture of nervous hope and bright-eyed desperation. But instead of the answers I was looking for, I found something I never expected.


Chaos.

The Void.

The complete and utter antithesis of God and Creation and all that might give a shred of meaning to this cruel joke of an existence that we call “life.”

In deep metaphysical contemplation, I saw God and looked past his shoulder; right through him, in fact. What I saw behind him was absolutely terrifying. The Abyss swallowed every last bit of my capacity for joy and pleasure and satisfaction. Next to that mind-boggling nothingness, the Divine seemed an insubstantial dream of the utmost audacity.

In that moment, I hated God. Almost every fiber of my being was turned against him. I raged at him for being such an idiot, to think any of it justifiable. I cursed him out for a good six hours straight, no exaggeration. For six hours, I ran a loop in my head saying “fuck you” to the universe in general and its maker in particular.

Not surprisingly, that didn't make me feel any better. I could almost physically feel my frequency resonance vibration dying down, down, down, weaker and darker, to what felt like the bare minimum to function as a human being. I was a weary, grey husk. As therapy, catharsis was a failure. As a tool to mess myself up, though, as some twisted revenge, it was perfect.

That night, I was drawn into imaginings of my own death, by my own doing. The most convenient location would be the local ski jump, if I could get up to the top and throw myself off. I never fully intended to do it, but I was engaging in a reckless game of brinksmanship with the Creator. I wanted to see how far this cruelly compassionately dispassionately orchestrated universe would let me go before it either stopped me... or didn't.

I snuck out of the place I was staying at and went for a hike up to the mountaintop where the ski jumps were. The new one was inaccessible, being a walled concrete tower, but the older, wooden one was open. I went up and found myself in the company of a romantic couple, a few years younger than me. “All right,” I thought. “So much for this game.”

By then, though, my suicidal motivation had cooled down by several degrees due to the walking it had taken to get there. Walking is always good therapy. It helps one mull things over and see them in a new light. I was still pissed off, but only a little. I could see the humour in the situation. I knew I was ruining the kids' romantic interlude, but I didn't give a damn about that. I chatted them up a bit, friendly-like. Commented on the view (amazing) and the stars (awe-inspiring). Asked them if they believed UFOs were real, a usual question for me. They were polite, but soon realized I wasn't going away, so they left. I had the tower to myself, and I lingered there with my thoughts, admiring the view, until the cold got to me and I hiked back to the apartment and snuck back in with no one the wiser.

It actually took me about three weeks to recover from this crisis, to feel like myself again. It was not easy to come back around, but I did. I had the support of a few especially dear friends with whom I was able to share what I'd been going through.

It was as much a crisis of belief in general as it was a crisis of my relationship with the One. I think that may have been the point where I finally gave up on the idea of being able to grasp anything objectively. I realized that my personal reality is the one that has meaning for me (if any), and that it can only ever be subjective. Therefore, belief is purely a matter of choice and it is probably best to indulge in it (if at all) with a generous helping of “I really don't know.” At the same time, I recognized that eternal agnosticism on everything until proven or disproven is a hell of a useless and boring way to go. One needs to have faith in something. On some level, faith is a risk. As such, I find it's also very exhilarating, and, more often than not, pretty rewarding.

Since that time, I haven't really had any issues with belief. My approach to truth-seeking has been psychologically pretty well-balanced, in my opinion. I'd say it was well worth passing through the darkness of that existential nightmare. Once I faced it and won, I could move on and not look back.

Returning to the present case of my young, deeply intelligent and aware, but troubled friend, I had a dream about him before we spent this weekend together. I dreamed that his car had blown up while parked on the side of the street, with him in it. Gasoline fumes, most likely. Blew the roof off and charred everything. He was dead. I saw his body in the remains of the car, somehow perfectly intact in death. His face looked peaceful. I mourned the loss of him and my soul wept. But then I felt this knowing, like he was still around close by, floating above our heads somewhere. I felt his relief at being released from his pain and bondage, and his joy at discovering that it was all right after all, there was nothing to feel bad about, and that, truly, there is a divine agency that sustains and embraces all existence with its eternal and all-surpassing love.

It wasn't long before I saw him again in the dream, wearing a brown leather jacket and a smile that reflected the awesome gnosis he had received in death. After considering things from that new perspective, he had chosen to come back, and he was READY TO ROCK THIS WORLD.

As for what transpired in the waking world, I won't bore you with too many details. It began and ended with highly significant and impossibly mirror-image-like events, and the middle involved mild inebriation and dancing at a local watering hole, spiced with a mysterious triple synchronicity from Bill Shakespeare. What's to tell, right? Yeah, that's what I thought. You think I'd tell you about that cute girl who was totally digging me? Forget it. (grin)

(This dream didn't seem very important at first. But the more I recalled of it, the more I realized how significant it might be – for its entertainment value, if nothing else. The following story is 95% straight from the dream, as close as I can get it and still have a coherent text.)

~

Buddy and I are messing around in the school gym. No one's around, so like the kids we are, we open up the bleachers and start running up and down, making kiddish little jokes. All of a sudden, I get this strong premonition, as if the fire alarm were sounding, even though nothing can be physically heard: “Danger, danger! Look outside!”

I run out, up the corridor, and through the two sets of glass doors to get outside. I look up. There's a gigantic thing in the sky, coming down. At first it's just a bunch of glowing straight lines, but as it slowly makes its spinning descent, its form becomes more solid. It's a friggin' alien spacecraft, and it does not feel friendly at all.

Before the thing even lands, I'm making to run inside to warn everybody, 'cause I got this huge adrenaline rush, fight-or-flight, and everything in me screams FLIGHT. But there's already a cascade of bodies piling out of the doors. People are going out to meet this thing. All they've got is curiosity and excitement, no idea that they're walking straight into the monster's jaws. I'm screaming at them as I fight the current to get back inside, but nobody pays any attention. I'm just an annoyance to them.

I watch helplessly as the crowd makes its way up to the ship, which has now landed on the grass of the playing field and opened up its large bay doors. A ramp bridges the divide between ship and schoolyard, nice and level. There's some kind of really weird mind control going on, like a voice in your head, and it seems to affect everyone but me. The message is basically that everything we could ever want and need is on board, and we'll all be so much happier if we leave our old lives behind and go along with the ship. It stinks to high heaven and I don't believe any of it for a second.

But everyone else is going. So what can I do except tag along?

~

I'm on the ship. It's a lot bigger on the inside, more like a city than a building. Earth is gone, we're stuck in outer space somewhere. Anywhere. Nowhere.

I have to say, they've got a pretty good set-up here. It's the perfect prison. There are no guards, no bars. But the conditioning! It was all done in stages, but now everyone's used to it. The meaningless jobs that they slave at for most of the day. The rules and regulations covering every aspect of their lives. The ugly, crowded accommodations. The sterile, artificial food.

I go visit my friend. He's still his happy old self. He's one of the first to have voluntarily moved to the new living quarters: a grid of concrete cells sunk about a metre and a half into the floor. Oh, but you can still move around freely, visit your neighbours. It's not that bad, really. He digs into his meal ration, a new and improved option: what looks like bread crumbs (but probably isn't), mixed with a chemical cocktail of different powders for enhanced flavour and nutrition and performance, with a little oil to make it stick together and go down. He offers me a taste. It's really good, he says, beaming. I decline.

Next day, there's an announcement: no work today. Just fun and good times. They call it Entertainment Day. They have these, what, once a month, once a year? Always a surprise, and it's such fun that nobody complains. Wouldn't dream of it. Aren't they so awesome for giving us Entertainment Day? I watch as everyone crowds into the coliseum. Not into the stands; their place is in the arena. Oh yeah, here they come: the bat-winged terror babies. Are they monkeys or babies? Whatever they are, we're all terrified of them. They swarm us and strafe us and swoop down to scrape us. We all run around like headless chickens, screaming, hooting and hollering. The masters love it. And somehow, so does everyone else. They like being terrorized.

I'm not like the others. I've never succumbed to any of the masters' conditioning. Oh, but I keep forgetting: they've got their own special conditioning just for me. You see, I serve them too. It has to be that way. In return, I get some pretty good perks. But I'm not a willing servant. I hate them for what they've done to us all. In my heart, I swear I will see their rule ended.

I suppose I should be thankful they let me keep at least part of my mind. I never remember any of the stuff I do for them, and maybe that's their sick idea of mercy. I'm not really human anymore; I'm something more... and less. I can appear in physical form, like the rare times I visit my old friends, but mostly I stay ghostly. It's a lot easier to explore places and observe what's going on when you don't have to explain your presence.

There are two of them, a male and a female. I belong to him, so I don't see as much of her. In my mind, I call them the Archons. Everyone loves them. Supposedly. Yeah, Big Mommy and Big Daddy. Nobody suspects the truth about Mommy and Daddy Archon: that all we are to them, and to their real children, is a big family food factory. We are their food.

Mister Archon is a giant, a four-metre-tall, reddish humanoid with a pair of long, black horns on his head. I have a hard time remembering what Missus Archon looks like. I think she's rather similar, except bluish. She tends to the demon-babies most of the time. Her partner is in charge of us slaves, it seems. I can tell their union is one of expedience and barely-disguised dysfunction. They both have terrible tempers, and I suspect they hate each other, but on the surface, everything is okay.

I only have one trick up my sleeve when it comes to getting back at them. Sure, I can play little tricks, get them to go at each other, but that's too sneaky for my tastes. I want them to know it's me.

I grab Mister Archon by the horns.

When I do that, he's totally helpless. It's amazing. 'Cause normally, he's this huge, intimidating beast of a being, and those horns are like the dot on the 'i' of his incredible fearsomeness. But they're so long that if I grab on close to the ends, he can't even reach me. He's reduced to a flailing, stamping, wall-banging, totally out-of-control, impotent mess. And who can respect a guy that suddenly goes apeshit like that for no apparent reason? His wife doesn't, that's for sure.

Maybe she'll take over from him, lock him up so he'll stop being such a public embarrassment. I daresay she could do it; despite his braggadacio, she does seem to be the one wearing the pants. I don't know how the slaves are going to react, but she controls the monkey army for sure.

I don't know what else to do. I don't have a plan. I don't see much hope for a revolt, much less a successful one. Maybe I'm a fool. But what do I have to lose? My life? Hah. I'm a ghost already. Maybe some miracle will happen, deus ex machina comes to set things right. The probabilities don't favour us, but maybe the universe does. That's my only hope.

In the meantime, all I can do...

... is grab the devil by the horns.

(I've never tried any hallucinogens, and I don't feel the need to do so, although I am OK with people using them as a shortcut [and only as a shortcut] to experiences and states of mind that might otherwise require lifetimes of work to attain.)

I dreamed about mushrooms last night. As far as I know, they weren't entheogenic mushrooms, just the regular, edible kind.

I was walking through a spruce forest. It was shady and the ground was covered in brown needles. There was hardly any green to be found. A rather dead place. I had a woven basket, and I was wandering around, looking for mushrooms. For some strange reason, the bottom of the basket was covered in little rocks. It's like I wanted to feel some kind of weight in there, even if it wasn't the thing I was after. All I had found so far was one little piece of a mushroom, just enough to prove that there were mushrooms to be found. After much fruitless wandering, I was feeling quite discouraged.

A couple of elderly women passed by, dressed in white, carrying white baskets that appeared to be quite full of mushrooms. They looked with amusement at my basket of rocks. They didn't speak with their mouths, but I caught the impression of a thoughtform:

"Those rocks'll make a tasty soup, I'm sure! (laughter) Good luck, boy. Keep looking!"

Somehow, I knew in my heart that I had to keep searching and not give up. So I kept on, guided by this inner knowing that it would all be worth it in the end. And sure enough, I finally found a whole cache of mushrooms as big as my hand, already sliced and stacked in neat piles. As soon as I saw it, I remembered: I picked these myself earlier!

There were more mushrooms than I could even fit into my basket!

So I dumped out the stupid rocks and started to fill my basket with precious, delicious mushrooms... the treasure and the true, spiritual food of angels!