Wednesday, November 09, 2022

"Stage 6 Cancer on a Peloton Bike to Nowhere, AND... It's Right Around The Corner from Ships Passing in The Night.

Foo Dog Poet Transmitting.......

I really don't like having to say it. I would have preferred a different outcome but I see the inexplicable and the unexpected going through the same motions they used last time. You have to admire the level of Arrogance. I would have thought that no one could get that far advanced in Hubris and still be animate. It's like seeing Stage 6 cancer on a Peloton bike to Nowhere, which is right around the corner from Ships in The Night. It's the same old same old alright.

Arrogance is so hard and cold that you would expect it to turn one into a statue at some point; frozen like one of Medusa's boyfriends... on a Greek frieze... circling some ancient chamber pot.

Yes... the destiny of our times is taking the... long... way... there. I guess The Divine is pulling out all stops to save as many as he can in this season's glorious harvest, BUT... things being what they are, and so many people having bought into one material hallucination or another, from simulated sex, all the way to simulated existence... you become a wandering reflection... like a ghost who only appears when the necessary face of personality looks into the mirror.

It's a vampire system instituted by vampires who live on the life force of others. If you inhabit it then you are on the menu. I have always recommended standing in The Light, BUT... sometimes even the true servants of God have to walk in the darkness for a moment or two. Then it is good to take a light with you... like Frodo had in Cirith Ungol... or The Hermit's Lantern... or The Light of the Avatar... or The Holy Grail, which would be a purified heart from which The Love of God shines.

God is seated in the human heart, where permitted... He does not stay where he is not welcome.

There is no news of election doings about Arizona, where the Secretary of State refused to leave her post while running for governor. That's where the rats have the cheese to begin with, and where the words of Stalin ring... “those who count the votes decide everything.” This has been the way of it for some time. That accounts for the Arrogance. They keep getting away with it.

People have the wrong idea put into their heads about Life on Earth in the first place. The World is not a place you fix. You are what you fix OR... The World fixes you when you get out of line. You are either in a program of conscious learning OR... you are in a forced labor camp in The Penitentiary of The Mind... and the only difference is in knowing you do not know or... thinking you know.

The World goes through the same predictable changes ad infinitum. Good times... Bad times... War... and Peace. You can get on your prancing charger and take off after The Black Knight. You can go hunting The Dragon or The Evil Queen or sundry archdemons, and assorted flavors. They... are... there. You will... if you persist... find what you will wish you had not gone looking for.

You can get pissed off about this or that, BUT... you will not change much. Evil isn't something you chase out of town and then you never see it around. Doesn't work like that. You have to decide which side of town you want to live in... or... maybe not in town at all. Your choices are many. The principal job of those who serve The Light of The Avatar is to lead people out of darkness. This does... not... mean... leading them into another darkness posing as The Light. That is what The Agents of Material Culture do.

All the rest of this Cowboys and Indians... Christianity vs Islam... Capitalism and Communism... are just theater settings where you do your dance. They are stages that you act on, and... when the play is over... you play the same role again or... you play another. It's all acting in Karmic skits to the purpose of you being freed of the need to play these roles, BUT... that's not entirely it either because the dramas go on, and on, and on. It seems you have a choice, BUT... many choose to continue on the treadmill of endless transitory identities... through more tedious, replicating plots than Arlington has grave sites.

There are social justice warriors and social reformers in abundance in these times. All the veterans of foreign mischief who started the fires are now determined to put them out. Some want to stop Porn. Some want The Climate controlled. Some want to police the language... shape how you think, and how you live. They are going to eliminate sex trafficking. You won't stop any of these things. They will simply move to another part of town or... out of state. They will change their appearance. They will change their strategies. As you must have noticed, as smart as crime detection gets... the criminals match them in savvy.

If you want to change The World, and so many of you do, go... do... it. It won't last long. If you are not genuine and sincere you will not last long at all. The World is changed in one way only. It is when a person changes themselves... embraces a better version of themselves... cuts loose their baggage... stops arguing on the corner of life or the internet with ill-tempered misery lovers, and goes and does it... whatever it is. What do they say? "Shit or get off the pot?”

When you become a living example of a better life, people will follow you. They might not even know that they are doing so. When you become a cupola of light, you will illuminate to the reach of your aura, and radiate in vibration far beyond the aura. Once again, The Sun gives the example. It lights up an entire solar system, and the same conscious light shines through every star.

Stars are gathered in places to permeate a singularity of cosmic archetype. They are called constellations. They forge the personas we wear to provide our difference in the mix. When... you... are... Impersonal, you shine through whatever suit of clothes... whatever identity you assume, WITHOUT... HINDERING... THE... LIGHT'S PASSAGE... THROUGH... YOU.

In the meantime... everywhere else... people operate through their shadow selves and act like Hungry Ghosts. Appetite is a fiery prison. It's a gas jet where you want a blue-white flame. A fire consumes whatever you feed it... if it's hot enough. What you feed the fire determines the color of the flame and the degree of smoke that attends it. You create the atmosphere around you.

When people become besotted with Material Culture they leave themselves open to bad leaders. They get what they deserve. It is a sad affair. You HAVE TO drive the agents of darkness from your being. The Fire of Love accomplishes this. I am not concerned about bad rulers. I KNOW where they are headed, along with all their camp followers and duped legions of The Clueless. I've had skirmishes with them several times in my life. They proved to be of no consequence. They DO NOT rule me.

I often think of the line from that poem by Richard Lovelace;

“Stone Walls do not a Prison make,
Nor Iron bars a Cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an Hermitage.
If I have freedom in my Love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above,
Enjoy such Liberty.”

He was born one of the richest men in Europe and he blew it all fighting wars against his own country, which did land him in prison a time or two; quite the character... rather a passionate fellow. (grin)

There's nothing the terrestrial lords can do to me. I am not trying to shut them down. That's God's job, which he does not mind reminding me of whenever I muse about changing The World. I've got my job and it suits me just fine. I've done any number of things here, in my comings and goings... or so I've been told by those who know.

The stupid games that the power-mad and assorted crazies get up to is their affair. Of course, it ends badly. There is no other way for it to end. Sooner or later... the notes come due. Sooner or later your number comes up from the pneumatic tube, which runs in serpentine loops from the invisible to the visible and back again. Sooner or later, your... number... comes... up.

I wonder how many people have read the whole of Hamlet's Soliloquy?

“To be, or not to be, that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles
And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause—there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of disprized love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard, their currents turn awry
And lose the name of action.”

It... pretty much... says it all... about elections, the ambitions of craven hearts, and... the eternal meddlers in the affairs of others... those who reap the whirlwind are those driven mad, like moths around a flame. The pursuit of empty celebrity by those incapable of embarrassment is a Sisyphean tale of self-abuse... a tortured monkey in a cage of its own design... hitting itself in the face.

I would like things to work out for the righteous hearts in search of a higher destiny for us all, BUT... the evidence is clear. A large portion of our fellows is moving down Perdition Way. Will The Awakening catch them in time? Many are running from that very thing. Great and transformative change is coming soon, and... one either cooperates and changes with it, or one opposes it to their ruin.

End Transmission.......

We have no links for GAB today, BUT... GAB= will still be there anyway=


Anonymous said...

Hitting ones self in the face, ahh, yes. I remember a fun little game my brother used
to play on me, where he would catch me & pin me to the floor, then take my wrist and proceed to make me slap myself, while saying “Why do you keep hitting yourself,
why do you keep hitting yourself…” Oh, brotherly love. Those were the days.

The whole EU / NATO / Russia / Ukraine sanction shakedown kind of reminds me
of that, while the US & it’s little partner in crime, hold down the EU & slap Europe
with it’s own hand; it’s kind of like that, on a larger scale. Then you have all the deluded individuals going around doing the same, on the smaller scale; some have help, some don’t need help and do it willingly. Unfortunately, in this climate, the self slapping slappers extend their slap fest to the undisturbed - er, less disturbed within society, who eventually hit back. Case in point, in those bygone sibling skirmishes,it was inevitable.

all the best,


Love To Push Those Buttons said...

I memorised that Hamlet speech in high school, along with the one that ends, 'The play's the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king.' I thought it would be so cool to play that character then. Needless to say, that wasn't in the cards. Second favourite play. First is Macbeth. Now I think it would be cool to play one of the weird sisters. How many know that line, 'Something wicked this way comes' got it's start there?

I'm assuming Eddie de Vere, Earl of Oxford wrote the plays. Makes sense, from what I read.

Nostrils to the sky!!!!!!!

Visible said...

A new Visible Origami is up now=

"This is The Temporary in Search of The Eternal. It Cannot Be Found in The Transitory Realm of Endless Change."

Patrick said...

Visible said...

Greetings, Patrick;

That video has already been blocked.

Thank you, however.

Patrick said...

I did it again, with an edit or two...

Patrick said...

and finally... the original... at Vimeo... sorry it took so long Vis!

Anonymous said...

Buttons, I too believe the 17th Earl of Oxford wrote those plays, sonnets and poems. Orson Welles' "Macbeth" is my favorite.



Joseph Brenner

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