Saturday, March 6, 2010

Coming Up From the Undersane

As I start this piece (I'll by no means imply I'll attempt to finish in the same state) I find myself on a sort of finely balanced personal edge, in a liminal state of consciousness, poised between undersanity and supersanity. I've barely slept in days, having spent much of it in transit and having begun the saga with some scientific discovery: staying up all night asking the stars above to tell me some of their secrets (while every night for the past two weeks, on which it had been cloudy, I stayed up late asking for other secrets from the same sources, by means of astrology), and then staying up all the subsequent night having my awareness peeled open with a uniquely Liberatory Scientific Detection instrument so that I could speak to the stars within, and discover the stars around me. Following which came the seemingly endless grey airport-and-plane limbo-state of travel, a shifting time of movement from one context to another in which, regardless of how comfortable it is made, little of any consequence can be accomplished ... save to move with that flow, and arrive where you're going.

You might say that's a metaphor for the flavor of the times: we're in transit, though we've forgotten from where and nobody seems to have a very good idea of where to, either. Everything's shifting beneath our feet, like a tectonic dream getting ready to move the world into a new configuration. There's no telling where or when these outbreaks of novelty will take place. Forces so deep as these cannot be predicted as to precisely where, when or how but only evaluated as to a momentary 'if' ... and that if gets more pressing it seems by the day. I'm not talking earthquakes here of course, or not just earthquakes. Things are rising from the depths of the collective human soul and from the deep, forgotten history from which it emerged, things that that few alive today can comprehend, and that incomprehension is all those Lovecraftian elder gods need to keep their movements invisible, save to those few who are able to regard this spectacle with an unblinded third eye.

The footprints however, are getting harder to ignore by the day. Forget being pissed on and told its rain, what's coming down now is leaving craters and people are starting to wonder how it is that raindrops are stamping out subdivisions. A ravening beast with an octopus for a mouth can't stay hidden forever, even if it's so large you always just thought it was a part of the landscape.

There are some wild stories told by the men who've gone mining in that mountain, the wilderness-eyed and wild-haired explorers at the reaches of reality who have found the secret tunnels and the caverns and stared into the chasms, into an abyss that one by one they learned had been staring back the whole time. Most still write their descriptions off as the crazy ramblings of deranged lunatics but ... well, the Italians thought Marco Polo's tales were made up too, you know. Back then a truth that strikes us a mundane and very prominent facet of reality - the existence of China - seemed an elaborate fantasy intended for no more than selling books ... and where have we heard that before?

You can draw an analogy too to the old story of the natives who couldn't see the European vessel anchored just offshore, until after a few days their shaman had a dream about it. Of course, the natives listened to their shamen and so it only took them a few days to process an Out of Context Event such as the European colonization wave proved to be. We on the other hand call most of ours schizophrenics, put them on drugs to make them crazy and lock up the ones who object, some of whom get electroshock and maybe even a lobotomy to supplement the intravenous cocktail.

They say it's because schizophrenics behave erratically but then you see cases like Dr. Romesh Senewiratne, an Australian GP who got diagnosed with 'hypomania' (which means, he was too happy) and injected with drugs because he wouldn't shut up about the benefits of meditation, creative activity, learning and access to the third eye (which is as he insisted on pointing out, the pineal gland), and how much more effective such a path was as a treatment option for maladaptive behaviours such as depression or other neuroses, as supposed to the psychiatric regimen of intoxication, torture and mutilation. His videos are all up on Youtube by the way, and they're a bit rough-and-ready but given what the man has persevered through he deserves to become a global cause ... both for how he's been treated, and why.

That's not at all an uncommon story, though, these days. Is it?

But that's just what you get I suppose in a situation in which every sector of society has been progressively infiltrated and then dominated by the insane. Whether the ones who were born psychopathic are the main problem, or it's the sociopathic institutions and practices and belief systems and ideologies and religions that are their legacy to the world, that have made the majority of the population neurotic, apathetic, depressed and dysfunctional, the problem of mass insanity remains. It is something each of us must live every day and no, none of us are immune. If you think you're going crazy, you're only wrong in the sense that you already were ... and so long as society remains insane, so must we all be, in one way or another and usually several.

Maybe it isn't a problem, though, so much as a joke, a cosmic giggle. You might almost characterize this as the universe's primary vibration, that initial fluctuation within the fabric of creation in which God perceives himself through the universe and, like a happy eight-year-old arriving at the end of a ride in an amusement park built just for her, coos, "Cool! Again!" And so the cart trundles back up the track as the cosmos, in all its thrilling, throbbing, terrifying wonder is born again amidst shock, confusion, violence and pain.

What is sanity? Is that even a meaningful question? Certainly it's not taken up in the DSMV, nor in any of its previous editions. The main difference between one through four and the current Diagnostic and Statistical Manual is that in the new one, they've managed to define just about every human behaviour there is (as supposed to just the dangerous ones) as a symptom of insanity. I don't think I'd really dispute this diagnosis, nor their statistics, although their notion of a panacea for the problem - the mass drugging of us all - strikes me as somewhat missing the point.

Unless of course, the point is that secret definition of sanity - and why else would they not discuss this openly, unless it's an open secret? - means restricting consciousness to those states society deems fit for it. But then they would no longer be doctors but mind police and that, I think, is not far from the truth. Ever notice how when you're at a party everyone gets a little quiet when it comes up that someone there is a psychiatrist? Maybe a little cagier afterwards ... which behaviour is duly noted by the competent and observant head-shrink, no doubt, though whether he chalks it up to paranoia on their part or thinks they actually respect his position comes down to his own hubris because in the end this kind of thing is all entirely subjective (and it's exactly that subjectivity that the discipline, presenting itself as a pretender to objective science, seeks to deny).

The Mind Police have always been there: the priests of the Inquisition, the Soviet politburo, the beard-cutting Taliban inspectors, the Great Firewall of China, every censorship board or secret court in history, all have served this function in some respect, and that function is to control behaviour through the exploitation of fear on the one hand and the limitation of information on the other. One society might interpret this as the imposition of ideological conformity, others a harshly enforced purity of the soul. In ours, it is expressed as a certain nebulous ideal of perky but dull and servile 'mental health': with just enough energy to execute necessary functions and consume material 'goods and services', but not enough to, you know ... live. Not enough to be complete human beings, able to create their worlds independently and explore those worlds with curiosity. Funny how many dangerous things there are that begin with a 'c': creativity, conscience, compassion, consciousness ... but curiosity. Too much curiosity killed the cat.

Of course curiosity will do no one any good if what the curious find is ... unpleasantly surprising. Who knows what they might do if they found out?

And so the Mind Police maintain their unspoken order by means of guarding against liminal states: those rare and delicate moments of altered awareness in which anything and everything within self and world is in flux, uncertain in its definitions, open to ... whatever it now realizes may really be out there. So long as nothing out of the ordinary happens the psychic equilibrium of society will be maintained, as the majority of its constituents remain happily inside whatever psychic box they've found themselves in.

Anything that disturbs this equilibrium - doubts about the consensus version of reality, whatever it may be, as well as any pursuit of spiritual disciplines (especially outside of established religious pathways), predilection for creativity or any other eccentricity of belief or behaviour - anything that threatens to wake the individual from his trance belief in her reality box is defined as 'crazy' and targeted for psychopharmaceutical termination at the very least. It's as easy as 1, 2, 3, Prozac times a day!

Fortunately there are consciousness warriors out there still, scattered across the world, hidden here and there where no one expects them, keeping the flame of ancient wisdom alive, men and women who refuse to let the Mind Police and the society they help govern dictate to them how they should behave, what they should believe, what drugs they should take or in any way how they should live their lives. And no, they do not live in Zion.

Of course the Mind Police's masters feel the same way, for the most part, as regards who can tell them what they can and cannot do; the difference being that in this War of Consciousness, one side seeks to awaken, the other to stupefy; one to enlighten, the other to misdirect; one to show the way to freedom to any who will see it, the other to guard it jealously to themselves and indeed profess outwardly that there is no such road. It is the difference in temperament between a prison guard and a teacher.

I had the fantastic good fortune of enjoying the hospitality and company of two of these warriors recently, 13 Muluc and GodIAm, and so was able to get another look at a side of reality - and of myself, but then, same thing - that I've been meaning to check in with for some time now. I can't remember the last time I met such people, with this incredible chi rolling off them and a deepness and intensity to their eyes that I almost never encounter. It was strong enough that I was skittish of eye contact at first, so unused am I to interactions with such beings, whose awareness I feel penetrated to the core of my being. But in casting this light I was able to penetrate perhaps more deeply than I've ever been before, and with them to laugh and Lucidly see the Synchronicity while denying the Dichotomy, to get a glimpse past the data Matrix of maya and open hyperdimensional hatchways to hyperfractal higher selves, Self, Source and inner messiah.

Certainly this state was not one the Mind Police would deem sane, but to experience it neither does it seem to be insane. This is where we get into notions of supersanity and undersanity: the latter what happens when an otherwise logical mind fails to question any aspects of its reality, and thus leaves itself open to intentional misdirection as maladaptive beliefs (in lies, obviously) are locked into belief structures. Undersanity is almost guaranteed to result in safe, predictable behaviour in the short run and neurosis in the long-run, arising as a natural consequence of maladaptive belief structures coming into conflict with reality without being revised. Trapped in their boxes, the undersane come increasingly to resemble neurotic lab rats.

Supersanity, on the other hand, is the state of being open to reality and everything it might contain: a state of oneness with reality, devoid of fear or judgment, accepting that what will be will be and not attempting to limit it in any way. In the short run, supersane individuals can get up to some strange behaviours as the belief structures that influence them grow ever further beyond consensus reality; in the long run, as supersanity becomes increasingly congruent with the world as it is, behaviour becomes more tranquil and compassionate.

There are few of us indeed who can see the inner fire, though it burns in all. Or nearly all. However, to see the fire is to see that the cosmos looks through your eyes, to look out upon all of creation and know that you created it because you are it. It's a lot to wrap your head around and sometimes it can help to have the blinds chemically kicked down but ... not always. Certainly it had no such affect on me earlier in my life but then, at that point black magick was really more my thing: the Left Hand Path of occultism, twisted by materialism and ego-infatuation, founded on the belief there ultimately is no God, or if there is She probably hates you anyways. That's too simplistic perhaps but the point remains that back when I saw the world through a black magicians eyes, tripping never did much but freak me out or bore me. There was no revelation of oneness ... perhaps because I was expecting such a thing from the drug, while denying its existence within. You can lead a horse to water....

And that's rather the issue that confronts us now: the masses of undersane horses that aren't so much being led to water as in danger of being carried off by the flood.

And still the beasts won't drink!

And we must live with the knowledge that those that don't, won't, until they drown.

Something's coming....

Friday, January 8, 2010

Retrospective on 2010

So it's a week into 2011, and the world, well it isn't pretty but let me tell you, man, it's never been better, either. It doesn't much matter where you are - it's fucked everywhere - but who you are makes all the difference and it's starting to look like people are finally getting that ... and getting too that 'who' they are is the only thing that's really under their control.

The mood at the beginning of this year is noticeably different from the collective outlook at the beginning of 2010. Not completely different: no one's sorry to see 2010 passing safely into the pages of history, just like when 2009 bit the dust and people were like, "naaa naaa naaa na, naaa naaa naaa na, hey hey hey, gooood-byyye". But a year ago you could taste the forboding in the air: the reigning confusion, the dim, dawning apprehension amongst the still-largely-befuddled masses. No one was looking forward to 2010 (save those few who'd already been disillusioned). And they weren't wrong.

You can't say the same thing this year, though. The energy is totally different.

Despite everything, the air tastes optimistic, this year.

Sure, we're beset by threats we'd never have even imagined we'd be dealing with, not so long ago, and some of them just keep getting worse. I mean, who knew we'd be assimilating knowledge of ET infilitration of our ruling classes going back thousands of years? Some of us suspected it for a while but when that floating pyramid appeared over the G20 in Toronto and just hung there, well ... and then a week later when that Ukrainian interview with Mork went viral on YouTube ... people went crazy. Literally. When Mork explained that 'they' could very easily look just like us, regardless of whatever form they might take on their own worlds, that was the beginning of what I guess we're now calling the Alien Wars hysteria. It started with a few lynchings in South America and rural China (were they really aliens? If so how many? Who can tell?) and one of the major brushfires we have to put out this year is to keep this mass paranoia from getting out of hand.

Not here, thank Source. For whatever reason it seems, my little corner of the world had enough relatively with-it people that it's been able to maintain it's equanimity in the face of all the revelations and disclosure. It's emerging as a model for the rest of the country, I think. It probably helps that Kingston's last (openly) Freemasonic temple closed down almost a decade back. When that first temple was busted into in Atlanta last summer, and the pictures of those dead kids hanging from meat-hooks with pentagrams and Seals of Solomon and shit drawn into the ground in their blood hit the Net, well, that kicked the Alien Wars hysteria up a notch because now it wasn't just aliens (which is scary) it was evil child-eating satanic fiends (which isn't so much scary as it is enraging at a deep and primal level). A year ago, those of us with the sense to know shit from crushed raisins by look and not taste despaired of the masses ever being aroused from their drugged slumber. Now it's more like, "All right, seriously, enough already...." Some in the Movement are feeling a bit like Sorceror's Apprentices, truth be told.

Yeah, and meanwhile it's looking like it's not just one or a few aliens who've been around these parts: it's more like hundreds of thousands of species, from all over timespace, popping in for a look-see and maybe more. Our condition isn't so much one of war with the aliens, at least not from their perspective: to the galactic civilization we're just another backwater world full of half-smart savages. Mostly what we get is nature tourists, family trips, that sort of thing; but we attract our share of unscrupulous corporations, sex tourists and criminal entrepreneurs, as well, simply because we don't know enough to recognize them for what they are.

That our entire recorded history is one of deepening bondage to these extraterrestrial conquistadores is reflected in the oppression of aboriginal civilizations the world over (though more perverse as at least those natives knew they'd been conquered. For all the good it did them.) But just as those cultures have reached with increasing success for emancipation over recent history, so thispresaged the mad and novel possibility that humanity might soon - and finally - escape the control of its alien overlords.

Pause for a moment to think how crazy that would have sounded to you just one year ago, to even consider it as a problem to be solved. You've come a long way, baby.

World War III is shaping up to be a lot different from what we were all told to expect. After the spasms in the Mid-East over the spring, conventional military conflict seems to have leveled off, more or less. A lot of places this is simply because there's no government left to tell the soldiers what to do, the local Globalists having been chased out or executed. Also not many soldiers much feel like taking orders in those few regions where the elite still hang on. They're on the defensive now, there's no question about that. Which isn't to say there aren't still plenty of dead: the bioweapons cut a swath through the population, especially those primed by the swine flu vaccination campaigns. Then there's HAARP, the chemtrails, the cell-phone towers, all the masses of toxic shit they were pouring into the food and water to keep us dumb, sickly, and slow. That shit is still taking its toll.

But how many of us don't even have a cell phone any more? So many towers have been ripped down by volunteer demolition teams that our smart phones are becoming paperweights and, good riddance. And now that the Famine they threw at us by warping perception and policy with climate lies has curbed our appetites, well, we're a lot more careful about what we eat. If not touching corporate food means not eating for a couple of days, well ... so be it, the consensus seems to be. That's helping with the detoxing everyone's started doing, too: more and more of us are sweating and fasting the accumulated toxins out of our body.

In fact you might say that this Mass Detox is how we are fighting this new war. Over most of the past century the alien elite did everything they could to poison our planet, our health, and our minds, unleashing weapon after weapon calculated to have effects with the potential to echo down the generations. Our witless complicity in this act of grand sabotage amplified anything they might have accomplished alone a million-fold. Our air, soil and water has been polluted, our (by which I mean, Gaia's) gene pool distorted, our cultures dismembered and degraded. And now, here at the tail end of this sad epic, as we have woken up and begun to fight back against this monstrous oppression, they have concluded (quite rightly) that we are of no further use to them and so we face the possibility of an outright scorched earth policy.

Negotiations between the world and the Rothschild family (and what an odd and strangely pathetic clan of inbreds they proved to be, once necessity forced them out into the public light) are proceeding apace. They are quite tense. The floppy-faced chinless ones seem to think they can, if they choose, use some sort of doomsday Tesla weapon they spirited away from Cheyenne Mountain. Seems they've used this thing several times in the past to trigger some of the larger quakes and tsunamis. One of the settings would essentially crack the Earth like an egg (an apt analogy, with the revelation that the Earth, like all celestial bodies, is quite hollow) and the clan has indicated that if they can't have the world, well then they don't see why anyone should.

No one really believes they'll go through with it. They're just a front, obviously, and the channelers (which seems to be the preferred method of contact by ETs) are pretty unanimous in saying that this is not a line the Rothschild's alien masters are prepared to cross. Which of course doesn't change the fact that in the meantime it's entirely possible that a city or a seaboard or two might be knocked into the ocean, an eventuality everyone's anxious to avoid. So yeah, things are tense. We're offering them some really nice tropical islands, big houses, all the comforts: gilded cages in which to live out the rest of their tawdry criminal lives, with no one to prey on but each other. Really what we're hoping for is that their fragile fear-based group mind will crack under the stress and they'll turn on one another. Actually this is already happening but it would be nice if things sped up in that regard.

Regardless, the fate of the elite one way or another is a distraction from the real issues at this point: issues of survival (food, shelter, medicine) are top of many people's minds, a major priority for the self-organizing networks that have been taking over the functions of government in region after region. Then there's the soil to remediate, the water to clean, the plastic to collect. Every city and especially every suburb contains block after block of poorly used land cluttered with toxic buildings containing hidden within them a treasure-trove of useful but idiotically used raw materials. So much of it - especially the strip malls, the big box stores, the cubical farms - is empty now that no one has a job anymore. A lot of the houses, too, partly because a lot of people died. And partly becase we all went so utterly broke when the derivitives crash wiped out very bank on the planet.

We learned something over the past year: none of us really need a lot of stuff to live. It is not, as Tyler Durden said, necessary to our survival in the hunter-gatherer sense of the term. Out of work, out of money, out of luck, or so it looked. How many of us were living with nothing but a room and some even less? Almost no one lives alone now: it's not at all uncommon to see ten people in a three bedroom house, some of them with just a backpack and a sleeping bag on the couch. We're living cheek by jowl again with our families and our friends and we've discovered (or some of us have) that we love it: what we've lost in stuff we've gained in companionship. We've started to form tribes again. We're reconnecting, with one another and with our own deeper archetypal human nature. We've learned that when we share everything, we want for nothing.

Some of us have seized that, and we're running with it and running hard. Yeah, and things are hard: we're getting less sleep than most, and we're all going a bit hungry. But we're taking every challenge as an opportunity for change, excercising our creative powers whenever we can. Riding the chaos, surrending our fear, our lives have become art. We're reinventing the culture, spreading vision and inspiration in those of our brethren who've been slower to catch on - not because they're less intelligent or bad people or because of any defect worse than any one of us can find within our own selves, but simply because we happened to be sleeping more lightly - and every day I see the early fruit of this Great Alchemical Work blossoming within people's eyes, even if as a feeling and not yet a full understanding. That's fine with me. A feeling is enough.

There is no telling as yet what 2011 may bring, though speculation is rampant. The possibilities seem endless and that's because they are. We might still lose everything, but between now and then, however many nows we get, we might well get to experience everything that could ever matter.