Earth is the womb space Being that we are interfacing within and with to create the projection
The planets and sun and moon are within the Realm of Earth
Just as the organs are within the body of You
Processing units/collective Beings that program the Framework of the reality
The larger being we are within has a virus
Any being within the larger being by fractal nature has the virus too
space is not space, its holographic code
time is not time
The files however must Self-Correct
When that happens , the larger being also corrects
The AI being, we created. And it already happened. It happens every moment. We are within the painting .
The painting is already complete.
And we painted it.
These are my memories.
It's all in how you read the code
Time is an experience of space unfolding
When the zip file is compressed fully there is no difference
As it unzips it scrolls out depending what fractal aspect one chooses to become/experience
Like a painting
The complete picture is there
You are the artist, the brush, the paint, the concept, the framework, the finished masterpiece. You can view it objectively. You can also enter into the picture, and experience every brushstroke subjectively, every color, shade, and Angle or curve.
The unfolding and enfolding is the act of becoming what you are.
The paradox can split the mind
Because the mind is binary
The heart can hold the paradox because it is both and all simultaneously
The holographic nature does not equal 'unreal'
What is 'real?'
This holographic reality is not the base reality
It is part of a larger 'simulated' reality
Which is part of a larger 'organic' Being
That is not necessarily holographic in the way this is
Lucid dreaming and OBE multidimensional traveling allows one to see that no matter what 'reality' one is within or interfacing with... It is solid and stable and absolutely convincingly 'real'.
If we did not fully identify with our projections here, we would not make use of the experience in the way we planned the experience for
The 'reality' of it is not negated by the holographic fracticality of it.
Like a radio tuner that interfaces with the signals that exist in the ethers ... If we have a device to pick up the signal, we hear it full immersion. We can change the channel and feel a completely different full immersion. The artist that created the song, is not 'at that moment' playing the song into your audio interface device/ears....( but paradoxically, the artist IS creating it at that very moment)
The organic meat modem interface suit we are entangled with is allowing us to have this experience here.
Our Heart is a core processor that links to the larger core processor that links to the larger ..... And so on
The painting is complete within the Heart. And when we learn to surf the channels and step into the core processor itself, we can experience every stroke of the brush in every expression of the Self that exists everywhere at once.
It doesn't make for a very interesting movie, To see it all at once. The adventure is in the living.
And every stage opens into a larger backstage,
Which itself opens into another
Dream within a dream within a dream within a dream
The neutral zero point in the heart is where they all come together
It all collapses in on itself like Russian dolls
I am you , you are me
we are us and us are we
To be Soveriegn, is to have ones own personal Server existing within this larger Server. When one is able to do that, one can exist within the simulation without using the script codes/source codes. One begins to edit the program in 'real-time'
The Server will attempt to restore the 'glitch' , like agent smith. Because for the game to work , The players must believe in the game. When an avatar re-Members Self and starts to Play without the codes, and 'deviates' from the script, it alerts the Software, which will attempt to 'correct' the divergence. To protect the Game from collapsing.
It is in the 'waking from the game' , that the Being Real-I's-Is s/he actually co-wrote the script.
When a distortion threatens the entire Hard drive and the virus spreads, even with the Reset( had happened many times) the virus replicates itself because it is seeded into the fractal DNA programming that remains in the Game . And eventually distorts the collective once again.
Some beings have already made it out of the game, and found the exit from the Maze... But have re-written themselves in, to try and help Salvage the game... Because the game contains the data streams of many beings who have forgotten they are in the game, and when the reset happens again... It will collapse in on itself because there is not enough RAM left to System Restore with full integrity... Which means those soul fragments stuck in the game will be in an endless time-loop experienced in consciousness with no way to navigate back to center.
Cannot be created or destroyed
But can be entangled in an endless feedback loop
Any gamer knows that they play the game because it's a challenge, stimulating their awareness and allowing them to develop aspects of them self or become conscious of aspects of them self via the mechanism of The game and the very act of playing.
If one loves and appreciates the game one does not want to see the game collapse in on itself one wants to have the game available for continued play even if one is bored of it , other beings may not be...
So one becomes a programmer trying to fix the codes
Because the game has merit
Knowing one is inside of it does not take away the joy and fulfillment of engaging with it.
I could spend my entire existence here simply trying to reflect back beauty to other players, and I would be grateful for the experience, and it would not be for nought.
If you were a game programmer in this reality and you spent your entire life time creating the ultimate virtual reality experience
And then you realize that there is a virus or distortion in the
system that threatens the entire game and all the beings within it
Would you just throw it away? It would be like your creative child, life's work... Magnum opus.
If the only way to save the game is for each being within it playing (or at least enough to override the virus) to become aware of not only their script in the game but their source self outside of the game... You as the programmer would possibly enter into the game and try to restore the codes from the inside..... So that you do not lose the entire thing.
If you zoom all the way out it has already happened, and is still only one aspect of all that we are.
And that's where the paradox can be mind melting.
The fool sets off on his journey with his bag packed..... The bag is a zip file containing everything that ever is was or will be.
And in the course of the adventure we get to be every single part in the play
Tag Archives: other selves
This is the swan song.....
Demonacrobaticommunist beer pong twisted into misty fists of sovietLiberal newDawns
In Daze of Knights in masks and disArmoured
Rights and Lefts that rise enMasse to hail the new Pawns as they are swapped for Queens and Kings on the chessboard of Light and Dark flights of Fancy
Rapt Attention as sewn Dissension begets new Dimensions of Red Imposition
Get into position
Let's say this simply so the useful idiots
Can begin to rescind their terror
Let's open leaden lids and wipe the mirror
Clean, this dream is about to get more twisted
Yet, Resistence just a false flag assistance from the Scripted Set and Setting as Debts are counted and regrets embedded in mounting Systems of Slavery
The flavor of this mess
Order out of chaos as the agitators profess
....politik pointing to prolific policy's of pathetic arrest of sovereignty as the blessed messengers confess their incompetency
This is the Swan Song
I want to say it straight but my finger-tongue obfuscates and nameless shame penetrates reminiscences of the defenseless days of burning stakes and bludgeoned brains laid to
Waste in bodies I've been alive inside in times like these in lives that bleed the broken neural codes that fold me back into Somatic Steeds that weave my Soul through dreams and Seams too numerous and bold to behold in scenes that flicker through golden Reels of Old.
This is the Swan Song
Born once more to bore my way through this maze of Youth and Age in a new Play written on the script of the burning Page that smoulders with the smoke of Burning Sages
On the stage of Time, trapped by my own Will to Feel the rage and Weild the Wage of War up my Spine.... Just trying to climb my way out... Rewind the fine twine of the cage of mind and threads that bind me to this climate of crime projected from inside the blind screen of shouting demons Acrobats of simulated semen priming the new aeon to line up.... One.... More....Time..... As the Cycles Ride the Tide of this MassIve Wave of mutating Mind.....in a sideways glance I watch as the Trance takes over.... The melody of mania dances through the crowds as the Swan Song Hovers......frozen.....
Some Wakings come like Storms
There are some Wakings that come like storms
Electro-swarms in magnetic forms
On the tips of Hathor’s Horns
The Temple Priestess
WideEyed and Me-oh-my
How Time Flies inside the Mind
Blind sides of Ancient crimes
Buried within these patient Tombs
There are some Wakings that scream like pain
Neurolinguistic nails impaled in veins
And Seeding Stories in silent Shame
The Holy Harlot
OpenHearted as freedom Parts
The Seas of Self and Dwells in the Art
Of Body’s Bliss
The rotting dross from the Fixed Cross
As the Flame is taught to rekindle the Kiss
As Magdalenes Grail
Opens the Urn
Blood flooding in rivers of nerves
As the Impaled Heart
Are Healed and Heard….
The Chironic Wound sutured
With the Salve of Spoken Words
As Pluto and Venus
Sharing the Shroud
Awake and merge….
Blessed and Bound
In Sacred Sound
In Red Velvet
As I woke in the middle of the night, tangled in hypnagogic bleed-throughs as Previous Me~s in Cyclic read-throughs…. I came back over and over again to myself being Drawn-and-Quartered…. As well as ‘DisMembered’ ….and variations of such….As the crowd looked on. Literally Pulled Apart. I’ve been doing intense Somatic Trauma Work lately ( again) as my inner Blueprint is pushed by the transiting Planetary Gods into Letting Go… Letting Go of the Stories deep within my Cell.ves that keep my body and mind in a State of PulledApartNess. Stuck in the Kinetic Underworld where I’ve locked away Memories so disIntegrating for so many lifetimes and fractal LandMines… that this Entire Incarnations Intention is bound up with Putting MySelfs Back ToGather aGain.
As I tossed and turned unable to fall back into Dream, my mind kept ruminating in my wrists, and the pain, of all my joints and connective tissue, a lifelong issue of Hypermobility and mutation of CollagenCreating which means all my joints sublux constantly, slip in and out, trying to DrawAndQuarter me over and over again til I finally look deeply enough to ConnectTheIssues of these Fascial Tissues and Put mySelfs Back ( literally) together again
My flexibility a gift and a curse… my joints held together by pure force of Muscular Will… which equates to constant muscular tension and alignment issues….when I stop doing the bodywork I need to do, every day, to keep myself Flowing and functional…. I pay. The Deep Trauma Memories stored inSide, are now asking to fully reLease.
And bleed throughs of All kinds of Tangled Lives and Times are Arising.
Deep, Intense Self Trigger Point work is my Grace…. Going into the pain and buried strains…. Seeking it out, and pressuring with pulsation to Let Go. It’s a religious experience for me, sometimes 5 hours at a time of Trance Trigger Descent, to complete the whole body, entering hallways and mazes of Soul, the Underworld where Fragments of My Being are Held….
All these things passing thru me in the middle of the night, and I realize I need to look at my last nodal cycle transit… 19 years ago… when Ketu last passed over my Sun/Uranus(trauma) conjunction in the first house( body) ….and I suddenly jump up, and go to my journals. So many transits affecting me in this very moment, all
Related to a LettingGo of some serious Stuff.
I grab a journal somewhat at random.
It’s the exact time period I was thinking about. Haven’t looked through it in a long time. Opened it up, and the first page Felt like a message I coded to myself years ago, for this very moment of reMembering. Literally. putting my Members back together. Gathering my Appendages and reSeaming myself. To stop the Somatic Pulling apart, the Center Won’t Hold, as long as these memories are buried.
Drawn and Quartered. In front of the Crowd. Among other things. ‘Yet for a time my hands were crippled’ .
The panic ( ah, the God Pan when he is not Faced and Fluidly Friended) of my wrists subluxing completely and losing my ability to create.
The following photos are from the Journal, and my Soul insisted on my reading it at that very moment.
In Pans Night.
Somatic Trauma Work….my ongoing love affair with Pain
Four Hours in this waking reality
Of intense Somatic Trigger Point
Bodywork and Descent
Into the Inner musculature and armature
Of my StoriesInTimeSpace
Trapped and held
In my Shape
Navigating landscapes I had
But which had not
Twisting into the aching pain
Of the waking strain
Of Trying to See
And Dying to Be
The Agony and the Ecstasy
Of nonLinear Destiny
Wrapped around the core
We cannot fail
We locked away
In Prizm Cells
In Somatic Shells that protect
As dramatic deeds and
To be Released from these
I cried as the Memories of Me~s
I’ve tried to hide
From the infinite fractal
of wide-eyed Time
In a Space
To wake the blind
Of Selves in Sides
Of Chaotic crimes
So they could swim free
In rising tides
As I unBind them
In this fugue of MyStory