your dreams determine where you wake up

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There are many people who mistakenly believe in some sort of after life victorious over death - to that we would reply that it is all life, right now in the here and now. The singular moment comes to a focus in the present, cast to and from our eyes in the looking at that which we give the environment and its reflection back in our own separate limited selves. This (fun)d of life is ever in flux amongst the elements and items of experience, and that experience is Life, is Truth itself. The truth has alway been right in front of us, and it is our immediate experience of ourselves and of our environment, which are most assuredly coupled: I can move my self with varying degrees of ease, and I can move other things too. But, what things can I move, where does my power of leverage end, in what weights and measures can my power extend. I at least know that I have gross control over my own “solid” body, and can move around other “solid” objects as well. Not only this but in some degree I am at least also able to “carry” liquids, to displace them in their flowing throughout the real, and divert them from the grand cycle that they take back up through the sky against gravity and then following that gravity back down into the depths of earth. I can push them too, and with my breath I can pull and push air, though also my own “gross/solid” bodily movements also displace the connecting media of our human environment: Each gas forms a web amongst its kind in the atmosphere, as there is no (little) combining of pressures or thus change in their fundamental structure as compositions in the atmosphere - and, these webs each variously respond to our movements in varying degrees and kinds. But that is more a thing of sound rather than the thickness of our electromagnetic surroundings. In moving matter, we move as well the tensile gravitational linkages underlying the connectedness of all bodies - or, the living moment can distort spacetime. Some people can see that we are some sort of nexus in the fluxing warp and weft of some immense being easily, some cannot. The degree to which we cannot see this (any) truth is founded on the degree to which we cannot let go of error, which can seem to be the most difficult thing to do at times. We can be enamored with ideas, whose value they provide would be better supplied by other, more encompassing, notions of what it means to be human and what it means to be (merely) material. With this reflection we see that there is no such thing as the “merely physical”, and that all our faculties of being extend throughout the entirety of cosmos in their effects. Perhaps attenuating, but with always the possibility for that finesse of timing whereby a pair of swinging scales can be tipped to further fly off in the direction that you wish: “Our heads are round so thought can change direction.” - Francis Picabia

It all seems to go back to that idea: “Everything matters, more or less, and to an unknown degree.” The butterfly effect, etc. - that way in which things seem to magnify themselves with the progression of time; building up chains of sequence where one event may have been just so in the story to cause something miraculous when the proper response is sent out into the environment.
While the environment, of necessity, extends any cause out into both the infinities of space and of time, the dominant digital-material worldview segments both people, on the one hand, and objects on the other. Sequestered away in our homes, maybe with a handful of family or friends, tuned into the latest new media spectacle, we have been cut out from the greater community of human life, we have been digitized - and like the digits on our hands we often seem to have become mere appendages to some other, greater, movement wrestling for command over a more expansive field of energy than could be had without those functional units, or us, in tow.
Escaping into a fiction of lights and sound, we forget where we actually are - and that has ramifications, as: “all politics is local”; is the interaction of real people, in real life, actually right here, while not under the shared hypnosis cast by a silver screen of dreams - and plenty of nightmares. Our attention is even being digitalized, materialized, and ultimately commoditized - look at social media platforms and you will see one of two things: either that the modern attention span lacks all continuity of flow and must be fed in discrete chunks, or that the media input formats themselves are helping to disjoint attention and memory - really, it has to be some feedback circuit combination of both.

Crucified on the cross of space and time, we find ourselves defined by magic lines that ray inside our point of birth.

where we are is who we are

What mystery they ask. All is matter they declare, without any thought in their mind from the unthinking matter that forms their body and brain. Since when has the mind been replaced by the “brain”, and every(one) by every(body)? The truth, even if it be relative, can only be found personally, by self endeavor and exertion - and it is always transformative. By noticing what had previously gone unnoticed by oneself, and what will always be beyond the ken of those who except another’s word as fiat truth. The popular modern answers dictate: biology, brain, genetics. That we are at the mercy of blind forces and have no, or only passing, say in our fate. That our choices and decisions, our very being, are an outcome of chance and the blind mechanical combination of sub-microscopic particles and their cascading effects. All this comes from denying the plain fact staring each and all of us in the face, that the world cannot rightly ever be separated from the awareness thereof. How one chooses to assign priority is where the modern conception of consciousness goes afoul - in choosing to declare in belief that the external is first and foremost, and that the lived experience of being is an epiphenomenon. In ascribing human life and being to be an inessential consequence of material forces, and by up-playing the role of genetics and brain states on behavior, modernity is attempting, perhaps unconsciously, to destroy the principle of personal responsibility. On the contrary, the esoteric doctrine declares the possible infinite sovereignty of the personal will, and the unlimited responsibility that comes with the active knowledge of the true structure of being. Truth is not “out there”, it is “right now” - it is our immediate experience. That is what is ultimately true. Not to say that there are not laws, or rules of action and consequence. There are laws governing the transition from state of truth to another, from one state of being to another - but what they are is up to each and every one to experience themselves.

Somewhere it is written: “In God We Trust”. The we that are me trust in myself. But what of all the other we’s out there? How do they feel? Who or What is their God? Thoth or the magnanimous Jesus, mayhems? Oh well. All I can tell is that something is there and that it changes. My body is not me but it passes in phases thrilling my nerves with never ending pulsating sensations. However in my mind the local is ever at the fore. Mercury, the moon just dots cycling in eternity as I pass these scenes. What, however, does it all mean - if anything? I guess only time will tell, but then again maybe we will have to speak that truth into the emptiness. Lines in space passing into infinity with three eyes pointed always at an ever distant triangle. Two ears, one mouth - listen twice before you speak. What is that smell that reminds me of… the force of what is not consciously perceived. Abandon all hope ye that enter here, ignorant of geometry. Without plan the trees split and divided into warring factions that may as well be one. Yet ye must eat! And whence from dost though eat but the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Cut down one tree and see only your good fortune spring fast upon thee. Never mind the past, cast your shadow before you as you spell out your life. The future is presaged in the past - the closer or larger a thing the less a/effect it has. Always the subtle determines things when it is a question of stability. Always on the knives’ edge of those lines passing through space, still spinning, dancing from one blade to another until those blades will sing, spinning around your central sun.

if the mysteries have been forgotten, I will make new ones out of the ruins of the past

all my days are a practice of Ordo Ab Chao

don't fall prey to fictions; the world has always been virtual - skip the counterfeits, the coins WE/SN mint are virtues

life is basically about moving shit around.

Throw yourselves off and into the poison paths - disequilibriate and find back your center. Off into infinity you stare at the back of your own head - you are looking into your own mind as the other stares back at you with cold demise. Vision, ether, is easy - it is hard to change the face of the body, your earth. Can you feel the strain against the staring pull? Ever downwards, it strives to reduce all to the primordial, undistinguished, one dead sea. Against gravity the force of life works itself out into the surrounding space where it might find new novelty for its amusement. To know gravity, is to know the nature of death. Feel the pull and push to and to not move. How do we move? Watch extensively, to see from and to where a thing will be. Not straight lines, but curves show their flowering faces.

It might well, and perhaps rightly, be said that the greatest fear is the fear of death - the fear of imminent unknown, ultimate un-foretold, the Great Mystery. What, if anything, of this fear pierces through the veils of sub- and un-conscious processes and finds life in the daily habits of the individual and society? The fear of the unknown most certainly finds parallels with the fear of death, which is its exemplar, but how does this very real, and at times very palpable, fear resonate throughout the human worlds? In large part it would have to be by the fall back into ritual and superstition regarding separation from the body, that which in this world is often the only thing a person has that they consider capable of knowing – the I’ll believe it when I see it, mentality. Certainly death is inevitable for all living creatures, at least outside the confines of religion or the lore of alchemy that posit a life-here-after or a wondrous medicine capable of bestowing at least a measure of immortality, as well as the wealth with which to enjoy it. But why fear the inevitable? Or perhaps it is that very certainty which we most fear and not the unknown itself, for there are certainly psychedelic travelers ready to barrel headlong into strange contortions of mental landscape. Some even return after the obligatory eight hours or so with stories of death and their return. So perhaps it is the unwavering certainty and knowledge of the inevitable that human beings fear so much, yet that would mean there is some strange transference going on in our aptitude to pick up ritual and habit, things and activities that we make inevitable and certain. Ritual can serve to hold our lives together, to have an anchor in the storm of daily living, something we can always return to, that we know and that we are comfortable with. Death before one’s time is a tragedy, yet who can say when one’s time is and whether or not departing at a specified date was not the best thing that could have happened to a person? When you ask someone what they believe happens after we die, they ought to rightly respond by affirming that they do not know – many will say they will cease to exist, others that they will be going to heaven or hell, similitudes to the life we certainly do have some inkling of only transfigured into regions of only good or only bad, some will say that they will be reborn into some other body in some other time. There are cases of young children who have provided astounding knowledge regarding what appear to have been their past-lives, and this gives some credence to the idea of reincarnation, but the vast majority appear to remember nothing. But yet, where do life and death come from - what is life and what is death? What can we say about the state of being without a body, being embodied ourselves, and why do we fear it? Why are little children scared of the dark? A vast eternal blackness necessarily without feature would seem to be the closest approximation we have to non-existence, at least in my imagination, no thought yet still an undeniable appreciation and perception of darkness. It may not be a very full life, but it would still be a life of sorts. And what about the light at the end of the tunnel that many say they have seen after having been on the brink of death or even truly clinically dead? Light and dark are, I would say, the two existential phenomena that cannot be resolved into further analogical contraries: Light begins and is life, darkness the end being death, and in between a water wherein the Great Game is played out between the White and Dark forces of the world. For it is certainly the interplay of water, light, and the dark (un)shining elements that have created these bodies that we inhabit and use. Without the sun and without water there would be no life. Yet also, without shade and shadow and tempering coolness life would not be. Some philosophies even say that our world and matter is all a shadow cast by higher objects in a greater space of higher meaning. That only with our current habits of mind is there the battleground where life and death and time are real.

stop reading the books of failed beginnings and false starts

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things have a way of magnifying with the procession of time

We’ve said this before, and we’ll say it again: it’s all in your head, my friend. That life you lived, that time you died, all passed before your eyes instead of heading in. Looking out into infinite space, the loops tied back behind the place. You see the lines that never end all go forth and round again. Space is small and all extends in curves that never end, which never did begin. The forms create the place in numbers great counting out it steps a harmony in measure to the muted din arising from begin, the end. The Gods were two and three, one an infant sparkling - holy trinity means one thing: father, mother, me; sun and moon and in-between. Cycles turning, planet(s) spinning, the world all a whirl with hidden meaning. Shapes and sounds familiar and unknown, entering the world’s a hollow tone. Pieces of the mirror come together one-by-one, making altogether that sum of one and two and three. The center of the universe is near: inside where the all the world appears. And, spreading out from the here and near, return the rays - no straight line that’s not the same from left or right, zenith / nadir. Periphery and core, joined intensive play extensive shores of tied up space all forming from within the place. Back-and-forth, not one direction, pulled between two sides - the forward movement must obtain a reflux from an effluxed strain. Not black and white, but colors plain and seen pass to and from each one of us; we’re more or less the same. Little sparks, little mirrors, little funnels all digesting matter, things of mind, passing through and changing form shown forth in what’s before our eyes. Mindful of the mental chatter - a peak above the rest: on top a throne the victor sets a scepter and a diadem. Around which all personas find a place within - without - the distance is akin to where you find the song, the sound, that blends right in with what and where you want to be and were. A place of stories passing, not in orderly succession, but with crossing, turning points rushing by and clothed in human skins. Life is more or less a dream, and a nightmare if you want: And though it all may come to naught, the zero’s pregnant with the thought, caught drinking from its source in draughts of countless things, divisions from the One.

Even though the external world in which we (usually) act is a three dimensional ensemble of objects, they are all actually processes or (at least) four dimensional objects. And this includes our own beings, and we know this although it may tend to be only a background noise. Yet is this four dimensional world indeed static or must it have its own form of time to which it is beholden, where timelines are like string in the wind. Time as we experience it is full of recurrences leading to suggest that time itself is cyclical in nature; that there is something fundamental in the nature of time that leads to repetition. There seems to be a force compelling the existence of an ever changing present sandwiched between the two vast spaces of the past and future - a surface of contact between two four dimensional spaces. We can view this surface, which is also a three dimensional volume, as moving along a track at each point presenting a section of a static four-fold reality. We can also view this surface as itself being static with higher objects passing through from either side, future or past. What we see in our present reality is the collision or interaction of the past and future. The force of change, or time, seems most often to be a pressure coming from 'behind', from the past, but it may just as well be a suction from the future. This order may be reversed or they could be both either of the two alternatives. Pressure and suction, although some of their effects agree, are two different things. Suction takes from a large volume and compacts, while pressure gives from a smaller volume and expands. This distinction can be easily discerned from either one's breath or a fan. Hold your hand in front of your mouth while you inhale and exhale, or hold it on either side of a fan, and you will notice a qualitative difference - yet the amount of air moved is the same. If current scientific big bang cosmology is correct, then the force of the past is a pressure - and this is all they see, yet instead there may be a pulling from the future which is qualitatively different. If we see time as inherently cyclical we need not choose one or the other. Imagine time as a torus, a doughnut shape. A push in one direction is then very much also a pull. If we imagine the torus as cinched then there is both a divergence from the 'beginning' of time and convergence to the 'end' of time. From the analogy with our breath, these forces would manifest as different qualities in our three dimensional present. Perhaps, however, one of the two is truly the original motion. Time is best felt through the sensation of moving bodies, including our own. Different forms of bodily activity give rise to different sensations of time. Tai chi or Aikido for example highlight its fluid nature, while a more contact based martial art such as karate highlight its punctuation by distinct events. Time independent of the body is best experienced in busy places such as a train station. Look at an unmoving point but focus on the entire visual field. Relax your mind and you will begin to notice the echoes of the past in the form of trails 'behind' objects and people. While performing the exercise you will also come to feel the energetic environment more clearly and it is also possible the you will notice time begin to get sticky. You will notice a backwards flow and instants of time being replayed. Absorption in the experience of the flow of time leads to its linearity breaking down and the recurrent nature becomes evident. In a way one becomes outside of time and the whole eternal cycle of cycles is suspended at that point, dangling by a thread the whole is pregnant with possibility. Deja vu is a similar experience of recurrence, but that comes without effort on one's part - you made similar choices in a past past that led to the same point. By suspending the moment, you can step outside the well-worn pathways of eternal recurrence and begin to make a new path. It is also worth noting that in such a state you are also more likely to meet others for whom time is not so linear.

I care more about my comfort, than your discomfort at the sight of me being comfortable