The memery. The questions of significance. What these pictures tell us. What do they sell?
I am surprised at the newness of the concept to people who claim to be read. Pictorial story telling is common throughout history. It is on the walls of caves.
The conversation was of the Great Tartarian Empire. The civilization lost to a flood of mud. A place well documented but yet denied.
We drifted over the purpose for bible stories in stained glass windows of gothic churches and the dark ages of Europe.
Europe. The roman catholic strong hold of “civilized” us.
The idea or thought or what if, the whole world was involved in trade and travel. What if everyone knew it except the Europeans who were in the throws of dark ignorance by a crown that called itself God’s liege? Only scribes or priests or “men of the cloth” were privy to text. The rest would have to settle for the majesty of glass. The rest would have to be told what the words said. The rest would think nothing else exists outside of the Empire of darkness.
Until… until… until people started asking questions. Until some learned to read. Until some power needed more because words would be the cause of losing.
So, who better for the job than a pirate? Who better to sell an idea that was already stolen? Who is fool enough to trade their glass for gold? Where did all this mud come from?
It seems everything living breathes. Expands and contracts. Thoughts are alive when they are allowed to breathe. It is normal for power to expand and contract.
Humans have five physical senses but 80% of the information comes via the eyes. Our vision is the entry to our minds. Control your vision, control your mind. If words are thoughts that can be seen but the mind cannot read them, the eyes are shielded from the ideas therein. Our eyes can’t hear the words. We can’t listen to the text.
These pictures, these images, this memery of the masses is not new. It is not clever, although sometimes they are, witty. They are pictures informed by the context of our mindset. They may not look the same to me as they do to you. Without a text to read, much of the context is a con.
A picture is worth a thousand words. The words used are from a vocabulary. Limit the vocabulary, limit the power of the image. Increase the power of the image by depleting the powers of the words.
A thousand evidences set before you. A thousand evidences denied. Because they don’t fit in the picture. Because they don’t suit the vocabulary. Because they don’t con the text to those who can read between the lines. The images are an interpretation of a story that has already been told. But that’s not what was written. And how do we know what was written is what happened? The evidence is contrary to the picture.
Put down the glass. There is no gold. You are the increase of your own vocabulary. The evidence is written all over us.
There are gigantic structures all over the planet. Similar symbols carved in rocks EVERYWHERE. There are Egyptian artifacts in the Americas. There are trinkets from the far east of Asia in Scandinavia. But they only look at the mitochondrial DNA. They only look for the mothers.
There’s a huge push right now to get us to get our genes tested. Ancestry influences something. What is it? What are we looking for? Who are they looking for? Why does it matter?
I can’t wrap my brain around the sense of continued hiding. This uprising is necessary and called for. The polarity has been offset by the spin. There is a new environment and the charge must be grounded to regain equilibrium, discharge. A great blast.
I’m not surprised by the foolishness of humanity. I’m not surprised by the reactions of the actions. I am not surprised by any of it.
It is to be expected.
What else could correspond to the rhythm of this dance? It is the stumble.
All things that get too great break down into lesser things. It is the nature of it. Whether it be an individual or a civilization, everything is subject to its parts. People break down when their need for power exceeds their capacity of charge. Civilizations break down when their power is dispersed among its masses.
The Great roman Empire could not keep Europeans from seeing the light. Dawn was quickly approaching. In this case, the best way to keep control was to convince the people that the empire was responsible for the dawn itself. The Empire brought the Sun to the people. They needn’t learn to read. They need only to be told a new story with new pictures. The trick is, keeping the same bards, the same tune, the same song.
There had to be an evolution. The pictures were not the same. People were learning to read. The con of the text needed to be updated.
None of this changed what was buried in the ground. None of this could lift the scars carved into the rocks. No picture or words could lift the history from the stones.
It’s easier to believe we’re infallible. It’s easier to believe that it’s all a lie. It’s easier to believe whatever feeds the hunger within us, the sad children that we really are.
All this talk about Jesus and the Piscean age, about Moses and the Jews and the sheep, about how some great leader of our time will become the “avatar” for the coming of Aquarius.
And they wait for it. They breathe it in night and day. The sword of a single god. An ancient text that was mistranslated through the wrong contexts of words over and over and over, and it pains me. It pains the soul in each turn of my DNA. It is the mindfuck poison that so many believe. It is the destroyer. You believers of it participate in the destruction and praise its glory. So stupid to believe you have any control. So naive to think that you have any part in anything outside the collective demise of such tragic and holistic pursuits.
Who are any of us to think we matter to that extent? Who are we to believe that humans have any bearing on the intricacies of the mechanics of space? We are a speck on a molecule in a system that equates to nothing more than dust. Nothing matters outside of the external cell that is the bubble of human. We can pick up on energy currents. We can communicate telepathically. We can disconnect from the web that is the picture of fear. We can see the words and hear them in our minds. We know better. We fucking know better.
We can do better.
This is all retarted.
You want an avatar? You want a new age? You want freedom and safety and a difference in the song. Un-con your text. Read the picture of glass you’ve goldened yourself. Who do we think we are?
Why do we think anyone has any more information than us?
These are the tricks of the trade. The trade that has been world wide since the evening of the Dark ages. The avatar does not bring it. How fucking dare us give our power to any avatar. How dare us acquiesce to our lesser fate. How dare us allow the picture to continually be drawn from our illiteracy of self. It’s a disgusting affront to the gift of life. It is a deviance from the glory promised as if it lives outside of ourselves. As if it must be bestowed on us. As if we have any say in that.
One time, a long, long time ago, humans thought they could control the fate of the planet. They thought they could control the weather and the placement of the planets. They thought they could direct the field. Because they were power hungry. Because they thought control over the forces was superior to adaptation. They underestimated the force of the field. They were shocked when they discovered it was a bow. The evidence we deny is the evidence of this event. We deny those humans could have been capable. But we should believe that we humans are now capable. And that we know what we’re doing.
The Universe will continue to do its thing whether we like it or not. And woe to any who misunderstands their place in it. Woe to any who would try to dominate it, to pull it, to direct it against its will. There will be a corresponding reaction. There will be a regaining of balance through equalized polarity. There will be a reset. It won’t be the first time.
Who are you? Who are we? Is this amnesia self-inflicted? It is easier to confuse ourselves with mind games than to accept we are powerless over the universe. It is easier to force the field around us into an unhealthy tangle that only strengthens the knots.
Are we really so afraid of the consequences that we have brought upon ourselves by giving our mental capacities up to the likes of our own self-portrait? Has this whole Piscean age been a denial of the truisms that we pretend to fish for? Are we afraid of being sheep because the Ram is the leader of the zodiac and if we submit to our own self-governance we will have to submit to the reality that sheep can climb mountains? Sheep can clothe, shelter, and feed us without having to sacrifice themselves? Is that why they were the demanded sacrifice of that age? Because it was completely unnecessary to kill them in order for them to be of service? Because killing them would render any future service impossible? Because without them, there is no cloth for the future dressing, there is no milk, there is no presence to graze the grasses and fertilize the land.
So, by calling ourselves “lambs of God” and following the “shepherd” blindly, we forget that we can climb the mountain. We forget that the Ram is the leader and isn’t in need of a shepherd. That it is the shepherd that is dependent on the flock for domestication and not the other way around.
Be a fucking sheep. Lead yourself where to the places the shepherd’s feet won’t climb. And Oh, what visions await you there! What beautiful sights to texture your thoughts. Picture it. High above it all. No glass. Only a sheep on a mountain. What can be seen?
We could talk next about Jesus and the school of fishing. But It doesn’t seem necessary. Abrahamic monotheism isn’t the only or the oldest religion. Nor is it the only record of this shared history. However, it has been the most destructive.
We could talk about masonic symbolism. We could talk about the transfer of power from one picture to the next. We could talk about how none of it holds any water except the saliva we spit at it. The blood we give it.
If I ignore someone who is bothering me, eventually, they will leave me alone. Eventually. So, there’s a choice. Put up with having to ignore it until it stops, defend against it and take and action to make it go away, or ask it why it does that? Why bother someone for amusement? How fucking bored are you?
I hope you are starting to get the point that it is all an illusion of power and that no one really has it. What a relief. Please stop arguing in and amongst yourselves. If people aren’t allowed to be angry, they get angrier. People should be pissed.
Years I’ve spent, trying to decode the madness. Trying to read the pictures without the text. Attempting to figure out how to adapt. Nights spent terrorized by the memory of the last blast of the string when the tension of the bow became too taught. The swing back as the arrow shot ricocheted back into the ground and pulled the Sun into our orbit, for a short time, before the ripple of the blast reordered our solar system.
The Sun is not the Father. Venus is not his mistress. Humans may have been the cause of all of it and we may be trying to do it again. It’s not a very good idea. It isn’t going to work. We are not that powerful. We only have the power to destroy ourselves. When are we going to learn?
No amount of rearranging in the solar system will tell us who are daddy is. Tell the kids you’re sorry, Mom. Earth is a single parent. The child within is crying. When are we going to grow up?
If this is the “dawning of the age of Aquarius”, it might behoove us to remember that it is a time of darkness. It is in the specks of light. It is the far-off star. It is the hopeful promise of a wish to be fulfilled in the distance. It is gigantic and charged and electric. It does not dwell on the trivialities of the small details. It is not concerned with the old ways. It is the all of everything expanding. It is the 4th state of matter that is plasma. Ionic and excited.
Apparently, that requires representation. An image. An “avatar”. It’s funny to me when people say any man that is living today is the potential avatar for Aquarius. Silly fishies! The water bearer is female. And now that we know, we can see her likeness drawn in the pictures we couldn’t read. She is the vocabulary that will rewrite the context of the human image. She is here to spark the insights missing from the texts. She is lightning striking stone. She doesn’t ask us to submit. She will not be controlled. She is the image of self we have been denying.
I will be the first to admit, I need to adapt. Need to humbly accept I have no control over the universe or others. Only charge. I need to take charge, be in charge, lead the charge, of myself. Will I be a positive or a negative leader? How far can I emanate my glow?
What kind of star are you? What type of system rules?
Can you picture being truly in control of yourself? Can we let go long enough to see the lengths of the reigns?
From what history has taught us, does it do us any good to hold on? Would any amount of evidence ever be adequate?
Would making a meme help? Would posting it get your message across? How would it be read?
Me. Meme. Me Me Me. Memory.
How will it be remembered? Will it be muddied, buried, carved in stone? What have we really learned so far? What do we want to see next? Where are we going from here?