After writing some pages and getting some supportive perspective on it, I decided to go through what I wrote to see what patterns I am able to identify and perhaps correct them.
- To be honest, it is getting more difficult to lie in perceptions of separation, as though I were any different (but in perception) than any of the other I’s (symbolized as WE), a grouping of segments of one line – O – the symbol of life. What I was attempting to communicate here is a sense of futility. When I look at the words of almost every sentence I write, I imagine webs of patterns of symbols going every which way, but even when I look as far as I can imagine, I reckon these patterns, all of them end up ultimately in the same exact place. Meaning, no matter which way I write the sentences, they all seem mean, meaning that none of them seem to mean anything at all. A as I am aware of seeing, all that I write is of consciousness energy, illusion - which btw for me translates to ill-us(ed)-ion/energy
- I am not happy and I am not sad; reality is an illusion; yet, it as I exist as one with all that is here with nowhere better or worse to go and nothing else to do but remain to change the definitions of the words as symbols by which I have sentenced myself. This is me showing desperation, not hopelessness, but resignation. In other words, as far as I am able to determine of myself in relation to everything else, all my perceptions are untrue or lies. Here is however, a certainty within and as me, a speck that is the reason, by purpose for being. This purpose is the reason I am able to say with certainty, I will keep going, keep moving and I guess this is one of the keys to self-creation.
- What do I mean? Does it matter what I mean? What if I replace, “mean” with “kind”, what do I kind, what kind am I? Would this change anything? No, because, each word as an accumulation of symbols of one line are all one and of the same line. Which is to say that, we are all pieces of the same puzzle, ID's of the same line. Thus, the solution is all, in and as the words by which each piece of the line define itself in relation to all others. Here, I am attempting to connect the Fibonacci spiral design-(as I imagine it)-construct of consciousness and this entire physical reality, I guess, with the design of letters, to words to sentences, by which we sentence ourselves to the design of our words as letters or symbols of THE SAME LINE. In other words, all of my thoughts, experiences and so on, represented by the lines of symbols by which we interpret reality, are of one line of energy, originating from what we call the whole, which I guess refers to the original hole in substance, perhaps the original sin. If we look back at the beginning of our current existence, I guess what we would see a hole, surrounded by darkness, from which a line of energetic light-bulbs, of awareness spiraling (just like the Fibonacci spiral) endlessly inward. Imagine being one one of those blips of light, twinkling like a star in the night. Even though, we imagine ourselves to be separate from one another, we are in truth, equally as one, all of the same line. This is what I perceive in the sentences I write, but am I really righting them or just making sense out of them. Perhaps, understanding oneness and equality does not require changing the design of existence. Perhaps,the key is to understand what we are and make the best of our situation.
- There is chatter on the internet about Disclosure. The benevolent extraterrestrials are coming to save us from the evil ones among us, and then they are supposedly going to upgrade our DNA to twelve strands so that we can ascend – something according (or discording) to that. What is the irony in the words of these sentences, such as “the benevolent ones coming to save us from the evil ones”? How about the irony in, “to be honest, it’s getting more difficult for me to lie”? Here, I gave into my frustration and instead of righting myself with words, I sentenced or condemned myself further by feeding my experience of frustration. Thus, instead, I will say the following. Yes, there is good and bad, as well as evil and benevolence. However, as all are of the same line of energetic I's, symbolized as WE, we are all, equally as one, both the good and the bad. Therefore, pointing our fingers in blame is really-not going to correct anything. Instead, we require to realize that, we are all one and the only way we are going to sort out or correct the whole/hole is by cooperating. In other words, we must stop pushing and pulling, i.e., stop arguing and we must work together because, what one does unto another, one does unto itself as one with the whole.
- The irony of iron ore… is that, the ore/or as an idea of choice is but an illusion of choice. Just as, “extra” in extraterrestrial might be interpreted to mean that which is separate or different from the “terrestrials on earth; there is no real separation. As above, so below = as we are in heaven high above, so are we in hell below, lost in the hole within and as the whole. This is why we greet one another with, Hi, signifying heaven, and Hello, signifying hell below? In other words, hi and hello have the same meaning because they are one in and as the same. As within so without = as we participate within (the illusion of our minds) so do we create the entity we each call our own realities. As we sow so shall we reap. The irony of iron-ore popped up a long time ago and it has been a question (of my mind) ever since. In studying plasma technology that Dr Keshe has been teaching, I reckon I’ve finally figured out what the irony of iron ore is. Basically, there is no or as in a choice of ores. Why? Because, the ore/or all of the same substance.
The basic pattern I've noticed is that, I have a tendency to over analyze. I know where everything leads; yet still I fight for my identity, my right to fight to find another way through the web. Letting go of my beliefs is not really a "letting go" so much as it is a process of deconstruction. I must understand how I constructed myself, so to deconstruct myself, piece by piece, while also creating a new me. What a long, strange trip it is.