It is a mistake to talk about the artist looking for his subject. In fact, the subject grows within him like a fruit and begins to demand expression. It is like childbirth. The poet has nothing to be proud of. He is not master of the situation, but a servant. Creative work is his only possible form of existence, and his every work is like a deed he has no power to annul. For him to be aware that the sequence of such deeds is due and ripe, that it lies in the very nature of things, he has to have faith in the idea; for only faith interlocks the system of images for which read system of life.
Andrei Tarkovsky
It is a mistake to talk about the artist looking for his subject. In fact, the subject grows within him like a fruit and begins to demand expression. It is like childbirth. The poet has nothing to be proud of. He is not master of the situation, but a servant. Creative work is his only possible form of existence, and his every work is like a deed he has no power to annul. For him to be aware that the sequence of such deeds is due and ripe, that it lies in the very nature of things, he has to have faith in the idea; for only faith interlocks the system of images for which read system of life.
Andrei TarkovskyThe allotted function of art is not, as is often assumed, to put across ideas, to propagate thoughts, to serve as example. The aim of art is to prepare a person for death, to plough and harrow his soul, rendering it capable of turning to good. Touched by a masterpiece, a person begins to hear in himself that same call of truth which prompted the artist to his creative act. When a link is established between the work and its beholder, the latter experiences a sublime, purging trauma. Within that aura which unites masterpieces and audience, the best sides of our souls are made known, and we long for them to be freed. In those moments we recognize and discover ourselves, the unfathomable depths of our own potential, and the furthest reaches of our emotions.
Andrei TarkovskyWhen I speak of the aspiration towards the beautiful, of the ideal as the ultimate aim of art, which grows from a yearning for that ideal, I am not for a moment suggesting that art should shun the ‘dirt’ of the world. On the contrary! the artistic image is always a metonym, where one thing is substituted for another, the smaller for the greater. To tell of what is living, the artist uses something dead; to speak of the infinite, he shows the finite. Substitution… the infinite cannot be made into matter, but it is possible to create an illusion of the infinite: the image.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeA poet is someone who can use a single image to send a universal message.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Andrei Tarkovsky: InterviewsI don’t know… I think I’d like to say only that they should learn to be alone and try to spend as much time as possible by themselves. I think one of the faults of young people today is that they try to come together around events that are noisy, almost aggressive at times. This desire to be together in order to not feel alone is an unfortunate symptom, in my opinion. Every person needs to learn from childhood how to spend time with oneself. That doesn’t mean he should be lonely, but that he shouldn’t grow bored with himself because people who grow bored in their own company seem to me in danger, from a self-esteem point of view.
Andrei TarkovskyAn artistic image is one that ensures its own development, its historical viability. An image is a grain, a self-evolving retroactive organism. It is a symbol of actual life, as opposed to life itself. Life contains death. An image of life, by contrast, excludes it, or else sees in it a unique potential for the affirmation of life. Whatever it expresses—even destruction and ruin—the artistic image is by definition an embodiment of hope, it is inspired by faith. Artistic creation is by definition a denial of death. Therefore it is optimistic, even if in an ultimate sense the artist is tragic. And so there can never be optimistic artists and pessimistic artists. There can only be talent and mediocrity.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986One doesn’t need a lot to be able to live. The great thing is to be free in your work. Ofcourse it’s important to print or exhibit, but if that’s not possible you are still left with the most important thing of all — being able to work without asking anybody’s permission.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986Why are they all trying to make me into a saint? Oh God! Oh God! I want to do things. Stop turning me into a saint.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986If you throw even a cursory glance into the past, at the life which lies behind you, not even recalling its most vivid moments, you are struck every time by the singularity of the events in which you took part, the unique individuality of the characters whom you met. This singularity is like the dominant note of every moment of existence; in each moment of life, the life principle itself is unique. The artist therefore tries to grasp that principle and make it incarnate, new each time; and each time he hopes, though in vain, to achieve an exhaustive image of the Truth of human existence. The quality of beauty is in the truth of life.
Andrei TarkovskyOur fraught way of life gives each of us a narrowly defined role, creating conditions conducive to developing only those elements in our psyche which allow us to grow within the confines of that role. The other areas of our psyche waste away. Hence lack of contact. Here psychological and social factors combine, and produce fear, distrust, moral baseness and the death of hope.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986For many years I have been tormented by the certainty that the most extraordinary discoveries await us in the sphere of time . We know less about time than about anything else.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986I believe in one thing: the human spirit is immortal and indestructible. In the beyond there could be anything, it is of no importance whatsoever. What we call death is not death. It’s a rebirth. A caterpillar becomes a cocoon. I think there is a life after death and it is that that is unnerving. It would be so much simpler to conceive of oneself as a telephone cord that is unplugged. Then you could live any way that you wanted. God would have no importance of any kind.
Andrei TarkovskyIf a writer, despite his natural gifts, gives up writing because no one will publish him, then he is no writer. The artist is distinguished by his urge to create, which by very definition is a concomitant of talent.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Journal 1970-1986The death of childhood is the beginning of poetry.
Andrei TarkovskyAll creative work strives for simplicity, for perfectly simple expression; and this means reaching down into the furthest depths of the recreation of life. But that is the most painful part of creative work: finding the shortest path between what you want to say or express and its ultimate reproduction in the finished image. The struggle for simplicity is the painful search for a form adequate to the truth you have grasped.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimePeople have often asked me what the Zone is, and what it symbolises, and have put forward wild conjectures on the subject. I’m reduced to a state of fury and despair by such questions. The Zone doesn’t symbolise anything, any more than anything else does in my films: the zone is a zone, it’s life, and as he makes his way across it a man may break down or he may come through. Whether he comes through or not depends on his own self-respect, and his capacity to distinguish between what matters and what is merely passing.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeSome sort of pressure must exist; the artist exists because the world is not perfect. Art would be useless if the world were perfect, as man wouldn’t look for harmony but would simply live in it. Art is born out of an ill-designed world.
Andrei TarkovskyModern mass culture, aimed at the ‘consumer’, the civilisation of prosthetics, is crippling people’s souls, setting up barriers between man and the crucial questions of his existence, his consciousness of himself as a spiritual being.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeWe can express our feelings regarding the world around us either by poetic or by descriptive means. I prefer to express myself metaphorically. Let me stress: metaphorically, not symbolically. A symbol contains within itself a definite meaning, certain intellectual formula, while metaphor is an image. An image possessing the same distinguishing features as the world it represents. An image — as opposed to a symbol — is indefinite in meaning. One cannot speak of the infinite world by applying tools that are definite and finite. We can analyse the formula that constitutes a symbol, while metaphor is a being-within-itself, it’s a monomial. It falls apart at any attempt of touching it.
Andrei TarkovskyMy objective is to create my own world and these images which we create mean nothing more than the images which they are. We have forgotten how to relate emotionally to art: we treat it like editors, searching in it for that which the artist has supposedly hidden. It is actually much simpler than that, otherwise art would have no meaning. You have to be a child—incidentally children understand my pictures very well, and I haven’t met a serious critic who could stand knee-high to those children. We think that art demands special knowledge; we demand some higher meaning from an author, but the work must act directly on our hearts or it has no meaning at all.
Andrei TarkovskyNever try to convey your idea to the audience – it is a thankless and senseless task. Show them life, and they’ll find within themselves the means to assess and appreciate it.
Andrei TarkovskyThe beautiful is hidden from the eyes of those who are not searching for the truth, for whom it is contra-indicated. But the profound lack of spirituality of those people who see art and condemn it, the fact that they are neither willing nor ready to consider the meaning and aim of their existence in any higher sense, is often masked by the vulgarly simplistic cry, ‘I don’t like it!’, ‘It’s boring!’ It is not a point that one can argue; but it like the utterance of a man born blind who is being told about a rainbow. He simply remains deaf to the pain undergone by the artist in order to share with others the truth he has reached.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeArt is a meta-language, with the help of which people try to communicate with one another; to impart information about themselves and assimilate the experience of others. Again, this has not to do with practical advantage but with realising the idea of love, the meaning of which is in sacrifice: the very antithesis of pragmatism. I simply cannot believe that an artist can ever work only for the sake of ‘self-expression.’ Self-expression if meaningless unless it meets with a response. For the sake of creating a spiritual bond with others it can only be an agonising process, one that involves no practical gain: ultimately it is an act of sacrifice. But surely it cannot be worth the effort merely for the sake of hearing one’s own echo?
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeA work becomes dated as a result of the conscious effort to be expressive and contemporary; these are not things to be achieved: they have to be in you. In those arts which count their existence in tens of centuries the artist sees himself, naturally and without question, as more than narrator or interpreter: above all he is an individual who has decided to formulate for others, with complete sincerity, his truth about the world…
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeDespite the fact that God lives in every soul, that every soul has the capacity to accumulate what is eternal and good, as a mass people can do nothing but destroy. For they have come together not in the name of an ideal, but simply for the sake of a material notion.
Andrei TarkovskyFinally, I would enjoin the reader—confiding in him utterly—to believe that the one thing that mankind has ever created in a spirit of self-surrender is the artistic image. Perhaps the meaning of all human activity lies in artistic consciousness, in the pointless and selfless creative act? Perhaps our capacity to create is evidence that we ourselves were created in the image and likeness of God?
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeThis is the law of life, its real meaning, that we cannot impose our experience on other people, or force them to feel suggested emotions. Only through personal experience do we understand life.
Andrei TarkovskyTrue artistic inspiration is always a torment for the artist, almost to the point of endangering his life. Its realisation is tantamount to a physical feat.
Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting in TimeHow strangely people live. They seem to be in command of the situation and they do not understand that they have been given the chance of living and actually using the opportunity to be free. Everything in this life is terrible, apart from the freedom of will that we possess.
Andrei TarkovskyIt is obvious that art cannot teach anyone anything, since in four thousand years humanity has learnt nothing at all. We should long ago have become angels had we been capable of paying attention to the experience of art, and allowing ourselves to be changed in accordance with the ideals it expresses. Art only has the capacity, through shock and catharsis, to make the human soul receptive to good. It’s ridiculous to imagine that people can be taught to be good…Art can only give food – a jolt – the occasion – for psychical experience.
The aesthetic finish calls up an image of genteel elders passing serenely away. This is not at all what I mean by “aesthetics.” The word roots itself in a gasp (aisthou), a sudden short intake of breath in the face of wonder, or horror. Aesthetics begins in the startle of surprise, the breath caught, held in astonishment. Aesthetics arises from an epiphanic image, the full force of character revealed as in a work of art.
Can a person become an epiphany?
Can we entertain the idea that all along our earthly life has been phenomenal, a showing, a presentation? Can we imagine that at the essence of human being is an insistence upon being witnessed–by others, by gods, by the cosmos itself….and that the inner force of character cannot be concealed from this display. The image will out, and the last years put the final finish to the image.
It is then only natural that we become more like apparitions, already sepulchral effigies, stand-ins for ancestors. Visits to us become ceremonies; gifts, offerings; conversations, liturgical repetitions. We are left as traces, lasting in our very thinness like the scarcely visible lines on a Chinese silkscreen, microlayers of pigment and carbon, which can yet portray the substantial pro- fundities of a face. Lasting no longer than a little melody, a unique composition of disharmonious notes, yet echoing long after we are gone. This is the thinness of our aesthetic reality, this old, very dear image that is left and lasts.
James Hillman, the Force of Character and the lasting life
Woke several times and Re-entered right where I left off. Several prelude dreams, leading up to immense lucidity and I decide to wander around. I peek inside an opening/window to old building that at first just seems to be dilapidated and run down....but Im drawn to it and I go in, and I realize its actually some kind of catacombs or burial ground....with protruding rectangular tombs in geometric patterns....its very old and dusty yet well kept....I can feel the energy is very intense, and my lucidity grows, I can feel my energyBody rev up and Im super excited to explore. I feel almost like I was summoned.
I start to wander around and there is a vast underground network of tunnels and corridors and rooms. Much of it grey and simple and dusty. I pass no one, see no one. After wandering and exploring for what seemed like hours, seemingly going further underground in descending spirals/ mazelike corridors....I come to another entrance.......it says 'Le Museum D'Arabesque' on it. Its reddish, and bright, and almost has a carnival feel, with all kinds of geometric art and patterns all over inside it, walls, floors etc, but other than that, uncluttered and bare.....but beautifully ornate. This is extremely exciting, and I feel like Ive made it to some secret inner sanctum. I think to myself 'Wow, I am so very lucid and aware, and Im pulsating with such velocity, I must be sure to maintain my focus and not get distracted, or pilfer away what astral energy I have, i do not want to lose the chance to explore this. Maintain sobriety and yet dont get lost in detail, as that will swallow me out of this Astral Local'.
Im rubbing my hands over the beautifully carved patterns in the walls, I can feel the energy in them. There are so many different rooms and configurations. Some seem to be small living quarters. Each one very simple however. There are more open larger 'public spaces' to, very ceremonial in feel. Here and there I pass people, some of which take no note of me whatsoever, i am unsure of whether they cannot see me (i.e im not vibrating on their frequency) or whether they just dont care as they are not threatened/I am allowed to be there......but some seem to immediately be aware of my presence and stare or seem to wonder who i am and what my reason is for being there).
(((( SEveral times I awaken during the night, to pee, etc, and go STRAIGHT back to the same place as soon as I go back into Dream, like a honing device )))))
At one point I start to feel aroused, as often happens in a deep state of lucidity, and often signals to me a need to refocus my energy or to recalibrate, because my energy body is asking to be able to hold more of a charge so i can have more awareness. I begin to look for a particular room as by now I have pretty much explored most of what I have found in my immediate vicinity, and I remember there is a hidden room and I want to go into it to 'engage my arousal ……but as i am walking along the corridor an asian woman and young girl are walking behind me.......they are looking at me, I try to go around the corner quickly and I pull open the art panel/wall piece that I know exposes a secret slot that leads to room.....and I crawl thru, but not quick enough and they see me climbing thru and pulling it shut......they are peering in at me thru the crack they are now aware is there (they seem to have not known about hidden space).....the woman is surprised and suspicious of me. I try to convince her that she should just go on about her business, but im also aware i dont want to alert anyone to my presence in case it causes alarm. The room i am in is small and has a rectangular bath space in floor filled with water, its a sacred bathing room or something, there is little else in the room. By now I realize i will not be able to accomplish my original goal and even though they leave, I am glad...because I feel if I had dispersed my sexual energy or relieved it, I would not have had enough Astral charge to continue my explorations. So I realize their intrusion was to my benefit.
I leave the room and continue. I run into three men who seem to 'work' there....or have something to do with the place...guards etc. I speak to them and I manage to convince them that I know that there is more to the place and I must discover whats going on and why I was brought there. I talk them into helping me. I tell them to meet me at particular spot after they take care of a few things for me, so that we can proceed without hassle. Upon return, there is only one man left, who tells me the other two were 'not up to it' or something, alluding that he was only one courageous enough...he seems to have big ego and kind of annoying in his self praise, but I find him harmless and definitely will need a sidekick who also knows the corridors and layout. My excitement is thru the roof now, because I assess how much time Ive been in the Astral and to that degree of lucidity, and its been a while since Ive managed to 'be out that long'....so I think to myself that I must hurry and not waste ANY time because I may begin losing my awareness at any point.
We end up in this very large room, and there is a middle age woman with dark wavy hair dressed vibrantly in geometric pattern dress, sitting on floor at a stone slab table. She has tarot cards in front of her. When she sees me she seems taken aback, as if shes surprised, yet aware of the possibility of seeing me....almost as if she knew about me but didnt really believe Id 'make it that far' The whole thing feels like some game/test/initiation, as if I am being led thru some kind of inner labrynth to find out whether I am worthy of what it is that Is Calling Me. The woman smiles at me, and I kneel next to her, with the man behind me standing. She says 'I shall read for you', and she pulls two cards. The cards are very unfamiliar. They are glowing. She seems tense as she reads them, and mumbles a bunch of mathematical and geometrical stuff, some of which makes sense. the rest which does not. She is moving her hands over them and fingers in patterns, as if she is literally 'reading ' them and communicating with them. I accept her reading, but then say 'I also read cards. And I would like to pull one of my own'. Again, she is surprised, as if no one had ever asked/requested to do that. But she allows me to, reluctantly. I pull the card, it too is glowing, I can feel the energy of it. It says at the top, in a beautiful cursive writing, that seems not to be english but I can read it or at least intuit/understand what it says 'Continue Forward On Your Chosen Path'.........I exclaim to the man 'see!!!!! I am going in the right direction!!!!'. in the center of the card are two images, on the left is an image of the original catacombs I discovered and came thru, that led me to this place way underground. on the right, is an image of 'le museum d'arabesque' which I am in. At the bottom it says something I couldnt quite make out, or remember, but that referenced each of the places......almost like it was a tracking device/coordinate code/something plugging into my Awareness so that I could find my way back to that place AStrally, again. I give her back the card. She wishes me luck and blesses my journey.
I tell the man we must get supplies. I now know I can proceed with full Intention. We find our way to a room that has clothing in it, and I dig around, trying to find something that will be suitable for the adventure. I pull on a black dress, halter style/almost like a gothic short patchwork warrioress dress....and I wonder to myself, whether I will be able to climb if I need to, fight if I need to, jump stones and streams etc....I see image in my head of doing all those things and I can feel my agility and I decide it will work fine. My hair I notice is dark and is pulled back in dreadlocks. I feel strong and agile and capable and ready and excited. Feels like my whole life has led to this. I know in myself i will not fail, whatever it is. I was called here, 'they'/someone' is expecting me, but I must prove myself. We leave the room. IN the corridor there are 6 or 7 books propped against a stone slab bench. All glowing with their own light. I know that I need to choose one, that it will help me on my path. But I must choose wisely. I look them over without touching them. several seem to be blank journals, but thickish and possibly heavy. There is one that is full of large grids, like graph paper but with very large graph squares. they are varying sizes. I am called toward a rather thin one, hardbound, old, that seems like a story book. I pick it up and we look thru it.....there are some blank pages, and there are some pages with poems on them, in different languages. Old. There are some pages with snippets of stories on them/ almost like 'chapters' but it is all put together in such a way that none of it seems directly related to each other. One of the pages has a 'story/info' about a particular TYRANT and I gauge that it is sorta like a myth. I tell the man “This is It.”
I know these stories and poems will help us decipher the puzzles and riddles we are sure to come across. We can use the info in this book to help direct us on the way, and we can use the blank pages for notes or maps'. I think to self then, that the writing in the book was surprisingly steady and consistent, compared to many 'dreams'. where the writing changes as you look at it. Right then, as I am about to head off on the Adventure, I am woken up by R and its time to get up. Noooooooooo!!!!!!!! I was so ready to keep going!!!!!!!!!! Feels like the coordinates of that 'place' are embedded inside me now, and I plan to try and get back there.
Last night was an epic Adventure. In summary: High Lucidity..... Exploring a stone castle type building covered in snow and ice... Running up the outdoor stone steps and leaping walls... Seeing another dwelling near it... I walk over... Strange monkey type astral wildlife... They are in survival mode... Scavenging food and resources... Life is Cold and unkind at that high elevation... They are not concerned with my presence... They run inside the dwelling they have laid claim to.. I follow one in... Round the corner... Dank... Cold...unhospitable....seems deserted for a long time... Then I see a room... Bare mostly... And a woman and several kids... They have been seeking shelter... I wonder to self how they could survive in the harsh elements... And feel great admiration for the strength of will and deep compassion for their hard life. I leave... Thinking I will gather some supplies and give to them.
I'm in a car.... Highly lucid and aware I'm In Dreamtime..... Thinking of my mission... The woman and kids...and feeling excitement. A very loud shattering Pop. Sizzling Tear. Deafening silence, then. In front of me.... Massive white cold coronal mass of light/energy/Isness.... I could almost touch it... Taste it.... It's so penetrating I'm stripped bare... It seems almost like a Sun that has penetrated right thru many dimensional layers.... Melting thru the fabric of TimeSpace peering sentiently at me…”he who knows himself knows his Lord”.....The excruciating sentience... .... It's so familiar.... I think to self 'wow. Maybe I'm No longer in the astral plane Playing with worlds... Maybe I've just died... Like totally untethered from the Self I was enjoying being... charleen'...
Sudden I'm Sure that it's true... That I was peering so deep In because I was no longer anchored.
Moments of sadness pass. I feel " I wasn't finished yet with that life.... I liked it" but I get over it quickly and let it Go... Knowing I've 'died' as Charleen this time... " I guess it's time to finish my Mission on other planes".... I leave.
I am called back to the snowscape mountain fortress with the smaller dwelling. I just Know there's something there I must find or see or learn. I am outside a large warehouse type building....I KnowFeelIntuit that there is some kind of echo/sonar Entity/device/something.... I go thru the wall. I. See these dolphin like creatures/machines? They seem to be fused.,. Organic/inorganic???is there a difference? They are floating around in patterns.... Using sonar.... It's like their movements are Language.... It's eery in there... The energy is palpable.... I feel compressed... I see down at end of long aisle... A woman... She's running data on crazy computer thing.... I'm next to her... She appears to be my mother... But I know it's a projection... Created from my memoryCardMind in order to make me feel safe... I fuse my energy body with the dolphin thing... And suddenly I Am sensing in Sonar and Echo Waves and it's so fascinating... I can see that the Warehouse is a storage Cell for Moments.... That every thought action feeling was creating simple to complex patterns and that these entities or devices were everywhere decoding with sonar/echo technology every Impulse within the Weave. It was All there. I realized that by fusing with the dolphin thing and sharing it's 'vision' that I was actually recording My Own Patterns as Well as the patterns of its own interference.... I was then fused with the 'mother' entity that was no longer using my Moms energetic template... But that of a young man, almost boyish... As soon as I see thru his eyes and see the dolphin creature staring right back at me, I begin to disrobe... The dolphin makes contact with its mouth.... I am nearly knocked silly with the vibrational frequency of bliss but at that exact moment I have the thought ' it was a test.. A trap... Now my energy has been drained/absorbed.... ' I feel shame that I was not more discerning... But I let the thought go....and left
Scene shifts.
I am at a river out in the woods….seems like a sketchy place that only deviants or outsiders go to ….brave people on the fringe….I am walking/hovering around the water. There is a young man catching lobster things/crayfish…I see another person way over at the edge of the water, who seems just to be observing/watching me. There there is a ball field fence to my left and in the field there are people playing ball. I run up the river and see the crayfish in groups in certain areas and none in other areas. I see a very large one like a lobster under the water too.
I am once again ruminating and thinking about being dead, and feeling a little regretful, like I didn’t finish my ‘work’ on earth as ‘charleen’…I think how lovely the physical fleshly ability to Touch is. I think a long time about this, and about walk-in stuff. I think to self "I will really miss the touching of flesh..... The Love of Humans. It's such a beautiful part of the game'
I think about my family and friends and how much I enjoyed this particular Lifetime Character and Plot. I start to wonder if I really should just incarnate again... But then decide it takes too long... And will have to pass thru the veil of forgetfulness.. And depending on circumstances...may not ReMember again... who I really Am.... and all my memories and who knows, may not get back to my current state of consciousness next time around….and end up trapped inside the Wheel again. Then I go deeper into the possibility of 'walk ins'…..
Could I take over the body of someone departing who no longer needs it? I could reanimate the Character in a different SElfSuit.... I Figure if I could be a ‘walk-in’ and take over the body of someone who is unable to use it anymore, or who is dying-I could use that persons ‘life’ to re-contact my own SoulGroup/Family and be close physically to them again…and maybe finish my ‘mission’.
At this thought I find myself in a hospital-like environment…and there is the body of a young black girl, whose spirit is leaving….and who I am debating whether to Merge with/become. But I don’t. It does not feel right.
I must finish my adventure.......
Scene shifts.
I am still ‘Dead’ and no one else can see me, except certain people…. I am at a pool with someone who seems to morph from B into R etc. I am hungry and remember food is there…and see a table with sandwiches and people etc. It is a big pool and lots of people and activity all around. I am unable to eat though, but keep trying. I feel hunger by I cant ‘eat’….AT one point someone tries to feed me a mozzarella ball and I can taste that it is salty, very salty. I can taste the stuff but not swallow or actually eat it? There are some Asian girls giggling at a table with their trays of food, and I take bits from the trays. They don’t seem to mind. D.M is there….he seems to be in the same state as me….and he keeps freaking out and I help him….I calm him etc. It feels like I keep trying to forget that I am not in physical body/’dead’ but keep being reminded. There is a part of the pool that is up on a bank or steep hill, and water comes up to the poles but just stops there….like a fake boundary line. Its weird and fake looking and makes no sense. Several people are bathing up there, and I wonder what they are doing/what makes them special. I am ready to leave and have my bookbag with me, trying to put food in it…and I have wet clothes…I tell B I will get dressed as we walk home along the long road/path…but realize it will take too long and he has already started walking. I put the bag on the stairs and stuff the clothes in it….slip oisins tiny flip flops on my feet, amazed I can even wear them. D comes around the side and I am like ‘I will help you, man’ and he is laying on the ground and kinda shaking and convulsing, a seizure. I put my hands on him and calm The Current. Through all this there is an awareness of something I am ‘forgetting’ or have a ‘vague notion of’…..something ‘I must do’ or ‘gotta hurry’ etc.
I AWAKE. Glad to still have Time left as Charleen.
I've died hundreds of times in dreams, and in lucid dreams I've died and woken into different lives/selves... So many permutations of it...
But this was different. This felt like.... I was so unfettered in my Astral/light body when face to face with that DimensionDevouringWhiteColdLight that I felt certain I must have been completely freed from my earthly vehicle for good.
I'm glad I Am still in this particular Game. I like it Here. And it's starting to get even more interesting. Now.
There are too many clues in this room. Everything adds up to nothing more than another door. I am unhinged. Fragmented. Infinitely recursive memories lure me into crevices and cracks in Time and Space and I fear I will never escape. The psychgulags magnify every passing Self inSides and wide angled lenses. Dreaming fractals seaming Me. Cyclic reveries….instant pedigrees of gods and goddesses and hybrid minds trapped in time….where do the lines blend into mine? Ive been inside for aeons. There are too many mirrors. The more complex the geometry, the easier it is to trap consciousness. The map is not the territory. The map is not the territory. The map is not the territory. I remind myself. I find my Selves hiding in prizm cells. Self contained and self detained. “A mind so complex its breaking her neck,she thinks shes a car driving to its own wreck”. The tachyon rides the fractal, I said. Once. Inside the Dream. But a new story gripped me before I could fill fully the stream of conscious twists tearing at my seams. If I could just slow it down. Breathe. Bleed. Feed. ReSeed into the Dream. Freeze the frames and seize the reigns in Mater Matters domain. Anchor Pater Patterns through a human brain. Focus the locus of attention and split in tension to sink deep deep deeper into dimensions of space that slow the pace…..dermal descension to discover the faces and names that trace my place in the game. Perhaps its all hocus pocus, scripted scenes on blinking screens that spread thru minds like psychic memes programmed by blind adherence to spliced genes in the white satin sheen of a world uncovered but never seen. And all this, all this, all this will set me free.
I catch myself in a sideways glance…. Heard the hoarse whisper of the apocalypse The naked mystery of the lord of the dance Snake charmed ministry in swiveled hips… Was beyond Time in Sine-Wave Brine Baffled by Breath and Trapped in Mind By Maters milky metered rhyme His Pattern scattered in points and line… Sin descended in tender twists He hid the fire in fountains of mist Shed the blood as the milky kiss His beloved entangled in silky bliss Scales in harmony ascend the ladder To shatter the mirror of mind in matter find the secret of carbons atoms The Judas kiss from master Saturn Snake dance sways hypnotic trance Within breaking clay and bone But hybrid eyes hide the glance Born from maze of silicone Again and again the cord unwinds Is torn from tethered trinity born from wombs of eyes and minds Without the measure of infinity A sword that splinters sacred words Skin deep scars that sing The broken spokes and spoken chords Poison every human being… Enters every pore and wound Into every fractal womb Everything is born to bloom…. …………..Time and Space the sacred Loom. 3-10-2024 (First word in each line makes a fractal of my rhyme)
It's so trippy, this blank canvas framing the ship that's sinking The twisted tether of the ripped up shrinking synaptic signal that's blinking On off on off on off up down in out all around It's so shaky on the plank these days The tumultuous brainwaves resonating to scripted Games from the Scenes and the Sees through the frames we have Made Oceans in motion rotating notations on the spindle in permutations of fading waystations that rekindle the lost coded programs that reinstate a shady satiation in slaves of I Am The grave Danger of Buying In To the Dialectic Demon Antiseptic in vying truths of Us versus Them Spitting Synthetic Synopsis into the Wind Pitting mother against father against woman against man against black against white against blue against red The Prizm Guards rewarding the Obedience of blind adherence to the Program Lost Souls on a life raft asking the master Shall we Sink or Swim hungrily digging for a last morsel of truth Within forgetting the parameters of the Play they coSigned and Designed and collaborated to bring online in an effort to Awaken the Sovereign Self That spins the Disk in the drive-thru trip of AllThatIs Inside Hiding Waiting for a glimpse of reMemberance to twist the story into knots so carefully Into thoughts that carry the weight of Glory and Dominion as the External Saviour Program Fades away and the true Divinity of Being in each Fractal of Seeing Comes out to Play The sweet fragrance of Eyes in Yous taking the reigns of the coCreations in this Womb of Truth that births the Seeds in Time and Deeds that blossom into Selves so Free That Each takes their Place in the Dream And wakes the Warrior who Chooses to Be A conscious coMingler in the WideOpenSee.
::::in the ‘Space’ of a few years we have entered another layer of the Fractal, the AI Synbio a Practical Master , encoded within the Genes, Unfolding the Dirty Laundry of Epigenetic Streams
What a Quandary…..
The Simulation Serves itself Up As the Main Course The Feast That Codes the Beast Of Graphene As Carbon Elite Remakes itSelf inside our Sweet Meat Suits Our Organic FleshBody Now Synthetic Neural Mesh Oddly Plodding along Trying to ReMember the Earth spirits Original Song
Welcome….. to the next Stage Of the Grand Game It’s Time To learn to Play With a New Set of Tools
I Don the Guise of the Fool The f.UnWise Jester That unties the Lies And Gestures And whispers The codes of the Rules That are breaking Down The Fool plays Jester to the Clown As the throne bemoans The Loss of the Crown Coronal Mass Ejection From the SunKing As the Curtsin Goes Down.
Clj 9-18-22
(From 2018)
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 it's space
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.
MeMoreEyes(I's)
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
Perhaps????????🙃
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
Time and Space are not different but constitute the active and passive, the expressive and receptive, the electrical and magnetic aspects of the same reality. Time consists of currents in space and space forms the background and latent energy of time.
S p a c e. I n. M o t i o n. I s t i m e & t i m e a t r e s t I s. S p a c e. In this regard, Space is eternal and time is unbounded.
Space consists of sound or vibration which is the Seed of Time. From that time-space vibration all mantras abide as the root ideas of the Cosmic Mind. Sound upholds Space and imparts meaning to all existence. Sound creates Time as the basic movement of the breath. From the unmanifest sound of space arises the manifest sound of air, which is the movement of space. Out of the sounds of air all other sounds are created. The mind has its own special space that holds all words, sound and meaning.
~David FrawleyThe Movement of Space is the dance of the cosmic air or Vayu, from which the breath or Prana of Shiva arises. The Breath of Shiva creates time, which is transformational movement in space. The Mind is our inner Space in which our own life-energy moves. Yet air and Prana as the movement of space are also Time. They create their own times and the lifetimes of both all creations and all worlds.
Prana, Pranava, Akasha, and Kala or primordial life energy, sound, space, and time are ultimately one and intimately related as powers of consciousness. Each is a manifestation of the other. Each is contained within the other. And through mastering one, the others can be mastered. Time is a manifestation of space and carries the energy of Prana or the Universal life. Time is the divine word or Pranava that directs the destinies and karmas of all creatures and all worlds. The energies of Time, Sound, and Prana are but the vibrations of Spacebsnd one with it.
David FrawleyThe Power of Time ( Kala Shakti) is the Goddess Kali, who is the power of action ( Kriya Shakti) in the universe bringing about the full unfoldment of the cosmic dance of Shiva. The original power of action does not simply promote any type of activity but energizes the evolution of consciousness. Kali is also the Prana Shakti as the power of eternal life that overcomes all death and limitation.
Kali is Shivas own Shakti or the power of Shiva in his own nature, his ability to be himself. Kali is ultimately the timeless presence of the supreme space of Being into which everything is dissolved.
~David FrawleyShiva as eternal time is the energy that dances on the stage of Shiva that is infinite space. Time is the movement of Space, the waves formed on the ocean of space, which is the dance of Shiva. The dance of time is Shivas fiery dance of dissolution, his Tandeva or dance of thunder, high also has its power to create, preserve and transform, as well as to ripen and mature.
I slipped through a crack in the sky Tripped right over my own silly I And plummeted Through the atmosphere Of dancing atomsHere Mapping tears as Phos Fears Wrath and mirrors Refracting Errors As Eros Arrows begin to fly Aimed at Body as Blind Mind tries To hold on Hold out Hold still as Tempest rages about Weightless Images in cages Break the lock And find their way out, in… Eyes of Mages and Pupils And Sages Wake with the shock Of the skin As it begins to peel Away from the clock tocking within The rhythm of Opening And closing Pounding it’s poultice and pouring Its Salve at ions Dreaming As men And women Dressed as Time Spiral path in precious Flesh Dancing thru the Annals of Spine My oh my The journey tries my Patience As I Let Go, satiated by the Doctors Cosmic Order….the Flow Aeons of tight fisted History I now come to Grips With… I hit the Smooth surface Of my Mothers Womb…. Taste the salty brine and prepare To slip through SineWave Lips Soft as sultry hips that shimmy And shimmer as Soul unfolds in bloom A Sacred Intention to Serve This Body of Being As I am Birthed from the Dark Deep See Into the Light of a New Me that Bleeds Stories and Deeds filled with the Perfume Of the Divine embrace Shiva and Shaktis infinite Delight Making Love from the Loom Of Time and Space.
