Limits of an Infinite Self

You know, I always thought "the Ultimate Answer to the Ultimate Question, of Life, the Universe, and Everything," being equal to "42" was a bit of a copout on Douglas Adams' part. Like, don't you think a smart guy like him would be able to come up with something a little more profound? Oh, I knew it was a joke, but I just didn't really get it. I guess he was pretty well on the right track, if you're able to read between the lines. See, we start with an advanced civilization questioning the very root meaning of existence, looking for an answer that would satisfy the age-old enquiry, "Why are we here?" And they were smart enough to build a computer that could calculate that answer for them. For all the good it did, they might as well have spent those resources calculating pi = 3.14... to the gajillionth decimal place, when any idiot knows that that's nothing but a circle. Maybe life is a circle, maybe it's a spiral, maybe it's a whole bunch of things, but the point is this: when you're done explaining it to yourself, you can move past the question and just live it like you would have, had the question never occurred to you in the first place. I know that's unfair and not really what I mean, but seriously, maybe the Question actually is the Answer in a different form, like "What is it? It is what it is." So life is its own Question and its own Answer, and maybe the point is to just explore everything it has to offer and to one day maybe stop pretending we don't know what this is all about. Where we came from and where we're going... it's the same thing. And if that's so, then everything really is OK and there's nothing in this universe to be afraid of. All those things we think are really scary and bad, what are they but stuff we dreamed up to tell ourselves that it's not what it really was all along, the perfect expression of an eternally loving God?

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.

I'm not writing this to brag about my experience, let me say that right out front. So you're not going to get the juicy details, just the essentials of it, plus a little theory.

Sex happens on multiple levels, including but not limited to the gross physical. (It also can be used either negatively or positively, like any other type of energy exchange.) But until very recently, I was only vaguely aware that sex could also happen without any physical component at all.

From this article and its comment section, I recently found out about something called ojas, which is an interesting topic in itself and makes good background for what follows here. It relates to the reason why certain spiritual practices have celibacy as a requirement. Since I have been totally celibate for some good number of weeks, I figure I'm pretty well set as far as ojas goes. Judging from what happened.

Regular sex (at least, the physical component) is centered around the genitals, pretty much, even though the entire body is certainly involved. With what I'm going to call “etheric sex,” the center of activity and stimulation is the heart chakra. Hmmm. The heart also happens to be the energy center responsible for feelings of love. And here's me, someone who's now used to having his heart chakra open and humming with unconditional love – and more than a little pleasure, too, on occasion, when conditions are right. All it takes is an open heart. Anyone should be able to feel it if they have the right mindset and just try.

Essentially, I guess what I felt was simply an amped-up version of that humming. And like the occasions when the flow spontaneously opens really wide, this time as well I had little to do but to get out of the way of what was happening. Stop interfering, stop analyzing, stop thinking about what a great blog entry it would make... and STOP FEARING IT. Fear is definitely the number-one obstacle. Because of fear, a deep-seated reluctance to allow myself to experience anything so wildly orgasmic and full-on intense, I stopped short of the ultimate release. I wanted it, but I just wasn't ready to let go completely of my inhibitions.

My partner was very patient and a masterful lover, but said that if I didn't quit chickening out and getting distracted, it would be over. Yes, my partner. No, there was nobody in the room with me. No one I could see, that is. I'm sure I just imagined her... him... it. But at the same time, he/she was definitely there, real. Reality is subjective. And invisible beings do exist, I'm sure of that. Anyway, I had to trust and submit without reservation, without condition or limitation in order for the thing to work and go all the way. It didn't happen, unfortunately. I was pretty damn high at one point, though....

This is the type of thing that can start happening in your life when you commit to the straighter spiritual path. I don't know how else to put it. These things, these mind-blowing new experiences, become a matter of course. At least, they have for me. I'll bet the times have a lot to do with it too. Galactic energies and all that. We're at a highly interesting point in the cycle, and the interestingness is not going to go away soon; on the contrary, it's very much on the rise.

If you want to take your life to the next level, there are some very simple things you can do to help that along. Stop eating junk, eat healthy food. Make a habit of prayer/meditation and gratitude. Simplify. Get rid of the TV and watch what you let into your head. Spend time in nature. Pay attention to little things. Listen to your inner voice. (You'll recognize it because it's the one that's never wrong.) And, if you're so inclined, read up on spiritual topics. Plenty of good reading material on the 'net, plus you have your original holy books and the related teachings. Follow whatever path suits you best. Don't settle for the same old same old. Be open to change. And remember, it's all a game. It's worth playing well, but it's also worth having fun with. If that all sounds good to you, then maybe it's time for some Next Level Up. You can do it!

P.S. Sungazing rules! (Especially at dawn!)

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.

Life has been kicking ass for me lately. I even recorded my first video blog where I went on about that. Hilarious thing, though: as soon as I got it into my ego like that – Boom! – life started (gently but firmly) kicking my ass. I couldn't get a picture to show up in Windows Movie Maker (could only get audio, and a crappy audio it was), and that got me thinking that maybe vlogging hadn't been such a hot idea after all. The more I thought about the video I'd recorded, the more I thought how embarrassing it'd be. I'm not too terribly awkward on camera, but my speaking skills aren't up to a level where I can just go off-the-cuff and have it come out how I want it. Not that I'm so vain that I can't let people see me as I am, but if the point is to make a point, then I want to do it as well as I can and not waste people's time with my halting speech and half-formed thoughts.

Perhaps I will still make a video blog at some point, but it would probably be either me reading stuff aloud or be a private video as a letter home to my family. I think those options would help me be less self-conscious, too. Seeing oneself on the screen simultaneously rather tends to have that effect, unfortunately. I'd rather not feed my ego that way if I can help it.

Anyway, I've had a lot on my mind, even as I've been flying high on a creative roll on the magic carpet of universal love that makes everything go my way. The blogs/websites of a number of highly conscious individuals (links on the right if you're reading this on my Blogspot) have provided plenty of food for thought recently, but I've mostly been wrestling with a very personal issue: my hobby.

First I should tell you why it's become such an issue. You see, my plan at this point is to leave the country by the end of June, which will mark five years since I left my family in Vancouver and moved to the land of my birth to see what experiences it might hold for me. These five years have been incredibly transformative and full of different phases. My life situation has undergone radical changes by the year:

Year zero: leave job and hometown in Canada to enlist in Finnish conscript military as an adventure and a requirement for keeping my dual citizenship.

Year one: discharged with rank of 2nd lieutenant. Begin studies in Forestry at Mikkeli University of Applied Sciences.

Year two: summer of love. Relationship with girlfriend at its peak. Active social life. Internship at building supply warehouse provides financial security and chance to work largely outdoors, serving customers. Everything is great.

Year three: everything falls apart. Plans to switch field of study to Theology come to naught as I discover that the Christianity I was raised into has been a weapon of mass deception and no longer serves my spiritual needs. Quit Forestry, break up with girlfriend. Truth-seeking begins in earnest. Job at call center pays the bills but eats at the soul. Breakdown on the job prompts move to Oulu, an area with many relatives and friends. Find new job as personal assistant to severely disabled father of six, an ex-con and ex-hockey player whose wife left the same faith movement as me (conservative Laestadian Lutheran) to marry him.

Year four: fired from job in spring, after six months. Had been too wrapped up in myself and my inner life to really engage fully and integrate into the family's home. (The ex-Laestadian girl who succeeded me apparently serves the family's needs much better, for which I am very glad.) Desire to find another regular job is zilch, as interest in being really independent has taken off. Start translating business. Find that I really don't have what it takes, but deny reality until savings run out in the fall and I am forced to shut it down and apply for government social aid. The emotional support of close friends plays a key role.

Year five (now): jettisoning most material possessions with intent to go on a trip of indeterminate length, starting with Sweden and continental Europe and ending in Vancouver. Money will likely run out along the way, at which point (barring some kind of temporary employment) I will be entirely at the mercy of God and my fellow human beings. That thought scares me a lot less than it would probably scare most people.

So now the trouble here is that the only thing I've ever become really good at – the hobby (socially still rather marginal, although the public awareness and acceptance of it are constantly increasing) of building original creations out of Lego bricks, for which I still have as unrepentant a passion as ever – is up against the compelling need to drop everything and hit the road. Shipping my entire Lego parts collection to Vancouver would be very costly due to the weight, so I must now significantly reduce its size. Selling it all off wholesale would be the rational thing to do, but as I mentioned, my passion for building is as yet unabated (despite occasional bouts of disillusionment with it all and an ever-present awareness that none of it matters in the end). Lately, I've been in a veritable frenzy of building in preparation for my first exhibition down in Helsinki next month. I also have a prospective buyer who has offered to pay 13 euros per kilo for sorted, bulk Lego parts. So I am left to separate the wheat, so to speak, from the chaff. Which parts are superfluous and which ones am I going to need for my projects in progress? It's a tough call to make, but I have to make it. Which explains my anxiety.

Well, that's a load off my chest already, to have laid out the situation in words like this. I think it's now clear to me that I would be wisest to enlist the help of a friend or friends in this process. The idea of doing it alone is just too daunting. And I guess that simple epiphany is what I was getting at with this whole entry, though I only realize it now. I do hope that anyone who took the time to read this will send supportive thoughts my way, be they voiced or silent. Advice and compassion are always appreciated, and I won't bite your head off even if you're in total disagreement with what I'm doing. Hey, maybe I am crazy... but that's still a subjective judgment. I'm just doing what seems to be the right thing for me personally. So... wish me luck?

- Not that I believe in luck. (grin)

Ooooh! Look at the/time, oh
This ball start to roll and she don't/stop for nothing
(Just speedin' up)
Gonna do some big-time/damage down the line
(Sooner than you think)
And all you thought was real, it be/comin' down
(All around, comin' down)

Ooooh, baby, you just/keep your head cool
'Cause you know it's all/meant to be
(It's all playing out)
My heart tells me, baby/we're gonna be all right
Just watch your feet, baby/don't lose your head
We'll stick together, baby/and we've got friends

Ooooh, got to do what's right/stick to the truth
'Cause that's what this all's about/teaching you
(Be true)
To know who what where, when how why
The devil come in, he don't want you to fly
But you know there's/always/another way, baby
And the right way's not gonna be found/outside you
Yeah the right way's not gonna be found/outside youuuu!

(screaming-hot guitar solo)

Ooooh, the world's goin' pear-shaped/whatcha gonna do?
Ooooh, everybody freakin' out/ooooh, what are you gonna do?
'Cause there's no time/there's no time/there's no time
To be standing there gawkin' like a fool without a clue
(Get a clue)
In
Your
Heaaaart!
Listen to your ************* heaaaart!
Act from your ************* heaaaart!
Listen to your ************* heaaaart!
And know it in your ************* heaaaart!

This is why
You are here
Don't blame me
For your fear
(Got to) let it go and and take a chance
Step up to the cosmic dance
Then you join the cosmic daaaance

(wild, ecstatic guitar solo)

Realize
The truth inside
We're all one eternal mind
Heart and soul
Living whole
Universal love behold

Love behoooold
Love behoooold
Love behoooold
Love behold

(Love behold)

-------------

Written after reading HalfPastHuman's latest Shape of Things to Come report. Thanks to the immortal Jimi Hendrix and others for inspiration. :)

Bill Hicks, ladies and gentlemen. One of the most offensive comedians of all time. He also happens to have been one of the very, very best. How is that? Well... the fact that he saw through the manufactured bullshit that masquerades as “reality” and called it out for what it was. The fact that he was totally unafraid to be seen for what he was: nobody special, just a guy with a taste for vulgar jokes and a gift for telling them. He was more than that, of course. He was a man of uncompromising integrity, brutal honesty, deep humility... and he did what he did because he loved to do it. No other reason could have driven him.

Today I listened to a couple of songs by Rage Against the Machine (Wake Up and Calm Like a Bomb, from the Matrix soundtracks). I listened in a way that I'm just discovering how to do (although I've probably been doing it all along): such that my internal state of mind is at its own place of repose, while the music plays out around me. I could appreciate the soundwaves, the thoughts and emotions without getting attached to them myself. I don't know if or how this is a productive way to listen, but it appeals to me. It's a way that I can apply to any genre of music, even (and especially) music that is full of angst and rage and darkness. I don't have to go to the place where the music is coming from in my totality, just enough to appreciate it. It's enough to have been there myself at some point in the past. You might ask why I would do this. Why listen to music that's not in line with where I'm at in my innermost? That's a good question.

Part of the answer is that the world is not in line with where I'm at or where I'd like it to be at. That's something that I just have to make my peace with. Appreciating music that comes from a human being's experience of this tortured reality while also holding peace and unconditional love in my heart... it feels real. It feels like healing, somehow.

Bill Hicks had a lot to say about music and the music industry. He made no bones about his distaste for empty, mass-produced, ego-driven dreck. He ranted against banality and mediocrity. He also praised those artists who he saw as having done humanity a service through their music, who played from their hearts.

I listen to a lot of different genres of music. I've never become an expert or a connoisseur of any particular one. Rather, I simply listen to whatever I find that appeals to me. Imagine my surprise when I discovered this artist. Here is someone who plays a genre so apparently full of garbage (in my uneducated opinion) and yet comes across as a true artist with a genuine message. Ana Free is (to me) a diamond in the rough. Her music comes from her heart. And what a heart it is! Beautiful. Generous. True. - And she's pretty, to boot! (grin) Anyway, lest I sound like I'm advertising (ahem), she is what she is, her music is what it is. You may like it or you may not, it doesn't matter.

“Play from your heart.” That's all well and good for those with a talent for making music... what about the rest of us, like me? I think the answer is obvious enough: whatever your talents happen to be, use them to express what you feel, the things that matter, the things that inspire you. Don't be afraid of what people are going to think. Don't worry about whether it's got market value. Those things are distractions! They don't matter! What matters is that you believe in what you're doing. If you can find something you would do for free, without any hope of recognition from the world, just because it gives you joy and fulfillment... do it. Whatever you feel is your purpose for being here now, do it. You will know what that is, because it will come from deep inside you and the mere thought of doing it will fill you with energy.

Play well, yes... but more important than that is to play from your heart. And it's more than likely that it'll come to the same thing anyway.

Ana Free - Try (Live)

This is a good game. It's called "The Truth."
- Dimitri Moisevich in 2010: The Year We Make Contact (1984)



The search for truth is a game.

I don't think one could have made that statement so straightforwardly even a generation ago. Back in the seventies and eighties, it seems to me, before the world was hooked up to this thing called Internet, truth-seeking would have been an activity that pretty much had to be taken seriously. The truth-seekers of that time would have mostly been out there doing original, painstaking research in the real world. Most of them would have operated in near-isolation from one another, compared to the effortlessness of network-building and collaboration today. Getting one's work published was another hurdle. The readership would have been a very small, very marginal group, scattered, so to speak, on the intellectual fringes of society.

Forgive me if my imaginings reflect poorly the reality of that time; I wasn't there myself. What I can say from experience is that in this present time, information is so readily available to anyone with even a casual interest that the whole concept of “truth-seeking” has exploded far beyond the limits of yesterday. It doesn't have to be an all-consuming path of dedication to a particular field of inquiry, nor is it necessarily the hard-core consumption of fringe lore from stacks of rare books. Beyond these primary and secondary levels, a previously-minimal third level has opened up: the level of the casual truth-seeker. The net-surfing approach is now the arena of choice for many, including those who would not even describe what they are doing as “seeking truth.” What curious mind, in this online environment, has not come across the major memes of conspiracy fact, theory, disinfo, and delusion? These thought-viruses have replicated through the memestream, cross-breeding, mutating (and being engineered, too) along the way, until the entirety has become just another fact of life, a whole genre of mind-games available to the people alongside their other everyday pursuits. This is not to unduly trivialize any of it; it's just an observation.

Obviously, truth-seeking in general is much broader than just the areas most actively sequestered (and infiltrated) by the powers-that-be, such as parapolitics, black-project shenanigans, and the powers-behind-the-powers-that-be. Anyone who engages in this game for any length of time soon discovers how interrelated it all is across the entire scope of human life. It becomes apparent that the so-called “mainstream” consensus reality is really just a system of externally-imposed programs that are held together, perpetuated, and fed into by those who believe in them: a Matrix control system. It may not be as immediately apparent, however, just how vulnerable that system is.

The system is predicated on belief, but its greatest power lies in fear. Many people may not really believe in all of it, especially now since the lies are becoming more transparent with every passing day, but still go along with most of it. Take voting, for example. Most of us know (or at least strongly suspect) by now, from experience, that voting in elections doesn't really matter a whole lot. We know most politicians are pathological liars and opportunists. We've seen administration after administration come in with honeyed words and the hopes of a nation, only to go out with disgrace and broken promises. And always, no matter what parties are in power, the economy ends up worse than before, wars continue, civil liberties are eroded, and corporate interests trump the interests of the people. HELLO? Anyone see a pattern? This isn't working! And still we go to the polls on election day and feel a vague sense of satisfaction, as though we've done our duty as citizens of a proud democracy. What? We know that's not true. It's just rhetoric and bullshit to keep things running the way they have been. But the alternative would be to admit to ourselves that we are more than just voters, or consumers, or (let's just use the word) slaves, aka “hard-working taxpayers.” We are unique, sovereign human beings with the innate freedom to create whatever reality we collectively and individually choose. We fear that kind of freedom. The system wants us to fear it, to deny its existence, to willingly give it up in favour of a ready-made machine world with a ready-made place for us as replaceable little parts in a big machine. And lest we forget our place, we are constantly shown what happens to those who have no place, who were born to the wrong parents, who didn't work hard enough, who defied the system. We're taught to fear poverty and crime and terrorism. Fear the cops. Fear the conservative agenda. Fear the liberal agenda. Fear the Illuminati agenda. Fear the apocalypse. Fear for your own survival in a world that's hostile and demanding but that might just give you a few creature comforts to fill your inner void if you only play by the rules. And if all else fails, just tune into an endless stream of mind-numbing distraction. Yessir, it's great to be alive in this postmodern dystopian nightmare. Or....

... Is there something else? A truth that's more than just a virtual-reality game? Something real and intimate that might just be the key to the kingdom of heaven on earth?

If there is such a thing, isn't it worth seeking? I believe it is.

And maybe when we're done seeking, we'll realize that it was something we had all along.



I am another you
And you are another me.
Thank you, just for being you
And being a mirror for me.

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)

I am often frustrated by the inadequacy of language as a mode of expression. Stringing words together in a linear sequence to form sentences and paragraphs seems so clumsy and crude. The confluence of brevity and precision is so hard to achieve. In writing, thank goodness, the process of composition is at least somewhat non-linear and unbound by time, which is a big help. But the fact remains that one is limited to a single perspective and a single voice at any one time, and as a result, the literal description of a complex thought or idea takes a great many words.

Poetry seeks to circumvent this limitation by calling upon the imagination of the reader as a decoding device. It is well understood that poetry is not like prose; it cannot be absorbed in an instant of literal understanding. It requires the engagement of the intuitive faculty. Because it depends upon the ability of the reader to decode it subjectively, poetry remains more or less opaque to the mind that is not already calibrated to receive it.

Even now, looking back on the few sentences above, I despair of my inability to express what I mean. I feel like a painter without the ability to mix his colours. If I say this, then it is automatically not-that until I say that as well.

I would like there to be a mode of communication that were more like a holographic projection than a flat image built up of one-dimensional lines. Instead of one word illuminating one little piece of an idea at a time, I could convey the whole idea at once, with all its shades and subtleties, in such a way that it could be viewed from all the multiple perspectives that I perceive.

Of course, such a mode exists, although few of us are yet able to make much use of it. It's called telepathy. My concept of telepathy is that it is something like poetry, something like music, something like sculpture and painting and photography and dance and theatre. It is all these things and more. Speaking and writing would be included, but in their higher-dimensional aspects.

The Internet gives us the ability to start bridging toward that model. Using hyperlinks, mouse-over texts, context menus, images, sounds, videos, and other interactive media, it is possible to convey information in an almost fractal or holographic way. For this reason, I sometimes think of the Internet as “training wheels for telepathy.” True telepathy will be much smoother and faster, since we will no longer need these crude technological interfaces and our brains will be operating at a much higher bandwidth than they do now, in higher dimensions, allowing for exponentially greater data density.

The transhumanists believe this will be achieved through man-made technology. Maybe it will, for some, but I would much rather let it happen naturally, through the activation of DNA. That, I think, would ensure that physical evolution doesn't happen without the corresponding spiritual evolution that is needed to be able to handle the new abilities responsibly.

I know there are going to be people reading this who think this idea of our consciousness evolving is just New Age bullshit being pushed on the masses to distract and placate us while the controllers steal the last of our wealth, genocide the useless eaters, and implement the final stages of their world police state. Others will call bullshit on both of these views. It doesn't matter. You can believe whatever you want, and you will. This is just me talking.

Anyway, I'm of the opinion that we're all one mind to begin with, so telepathy is ultimately nothing more than us realizing and manifesting a slightly truer image of ourselves. Whatever you might think of that, isn't it interesting to note how there's less and less privacy, more and more transparency in all human affairs? That's why so much dirty laundry is coming out into the open. You can't keep secrets anymore. The times don't allow it. For those who only want the truth, that's great news. And if you've got something you're hiding from the world, well... I'd say you'd better come clean while you still have the chance, because it's going to come out one way or another, telepathy or no.

This is the sixth and final Night of the Galactic Underworld. Shit stinks and there's no hiding the smell. We've all got our own shit to deal with. Hoo-ee! These are the times that try men's souls. (And women's, obviously. Stupid language with its stupid conventions.) Yeah. So let's all work on ourselves and not waste time about it. Evolution ain't optional, I'm afraid. It's happening whether you want it to or not, and the more you resist, the tougher the schoolmaster'll have to get on you. Might as well do it the fun way, huh?

That sounds like a good idea to me.

As you know, I was recently given a test in life. One of those experiences that life throws at you just to see how you react to the circumstances, I guess. Circumstances that may look challenging, but can also offer a needed opportunity to go beyond your comfort zone, to learn something new, or remember something you'd lost sight of along the way.

Now that the trying situation has come to its happy resolution, it is time for me to reflect: how did I do? On the one hand, well; on the other, not so well. Five days of total isolation did not bring out the best in me at some points. I found myself terrified of facing the quiet, clear reflection of my own thoughts and feelings in the mirror of my mind and heart, and so I did everything I could to disturb the surface. I even overwhelmed my senses with loud, restless, pounding music, with a certain vengeful satisfaction at disturbing my neighbours as well, which is totally out of character for me. It was a far cry from where I'd been at the beginning of my trial, when the isolation only worked in my favour as I purified myself and moved into the power of stillness.

I don't know how seriously I believe in interdimensional interference. Certainly a number of people of integrity and knowledge whom I highly respect are of the opinion that such things go on, and some have described their extensive experiences of them in detail. My own experience leads me to consider the idea a reasonable one. I have had unequivocal subjective proof that hyperdimensional forces are active in my life, guiding me, giving inspiration, and effecting some mind-blowing synchronicity. Why, then, should I disbelieve that negative forces are also at work on me, doing everything in their power to lead me astray, distract me, weaken me, and prevent me from fulfilling my potential?

Is the notion too wild to entertain that, by engaging in spiritual warfare, I made myself more of a target? I may have, I don't know. Or maybe all that is just another way of seeing things, another illusion that points the way to the truth. After all, there's nothing external that doesn't somehow reflect something internally. If I succumbed to a non-material counterattack, that means I still have work to do on myself. I should qualify that: I have a lot of work to do on myself. And I've just barely begun that work, even having come as far as I have in some ways.

I once half-jokingly told a friend on Internet chat that I consider myself a Jedi, and that I'm just waiting for my Force abilities to activate. Big LOL there, no? Just waiting around isn't going to make them appear, of course. Universe, however, is kicking me in the direction I need to go, so waiting around isn't even an option. And the more I start to carry my own weight in the right direction, the more I will find universe meeting me halfway, boosting me forward.

Knowing what to do is easy. I've been hearing what I need to do from so many people, so many sources, including the voice of my own inner knowing. The first and foremost thing I need to do is to consistently seek God. And the only place a person can “get” God is within themselves. That's where the divine spark is that sustains our life and is indeed made in the image of the One. To practice that connection to Source is the key to an abundant life. It is necessary to meditate, or pray, daily, and not in a half-assed way, either. It has to be absolutely the single most important thing in my life. I had grasped that before the holidays, and then I forgot it again just as easily in the midst of all the hustle and bustle. That is what I had lost sight of, and may well have been the main reason why I had to go through this five-day blackout and the ersatz insanity that came with it. It showed me how lost I am without that awareness of God, without my recommended daily intake of Awake, Focused, Here and Now.

No one ever said this would be easy. I'm still at a stage where I'm wavering between strength and weakness, remembering and forgetting. For every victory there is a defeat, but I am reminded of the motion of a pendulum: every swing moves the hands of the clock forward another notch. There will always be challenges; of that I am sure. But as what was challenging before is easier now, so the future will bring ever greater challenges. From each according to his ability. No one is given a burden beyond their ability to bear. I find that, for all the complaints I might choose to make, my burden is still mine, and it still fits me perfectly. Really, I wouldn't have it any other way.


Adiemus - Adiemus on YouTube

P.S. This morning, when I woke up, I put on some music from Adiemus' Songs of Sanctuary. The effect was immediate and overpowering: my emotional dam, which had been doing such a wonderful job of shielding me these past few days, broke to smithereens and I found myself weeping uncontrollably for several minutes, followed by alternating and intermingled laughter and tears. Perceiving the simultaneous horror, tragedy, and injustice of this harsh world together with its incredibly noble, stoic beauty, and the possibility of Sanctuary from it all, is what did it. It is at once a heart-rending and a cosmically humorous scenario that we are in, we humans.

Due to an ill-fated moment of absent-mindedness, I fear I have lost my computer, along with some other rather important items. Much as I would like to continue writing actively, my ability to publish anything here will be severely restricted until I get my machine back.

Here's hoping whoever found my belongings turned them in to the police. :)