neck romantik (& reap intent)

 

 

 

 

 Y'all are playing the game simulation; I'm playing THE GAME. 

 

 

 

We are not the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ..here we are, 

trying to piece together the remnants of a shattered dream..

 

 

 

 

 

success is also a death; it is the death of that within you which resists success

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 .. treating people better than they deserve could actually harm them, is the esoteric interpretation, because it pushes the weight of their behaviour back on them..so one needs to be very careful & surgically subtle in applying that particular technique..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here we are, trying to piece together the remnants of this shattered dream. But it doesn't seem much like a dream, does it? Does it even seem like a story worth exploring?

 

 

We live in this body of death, the material logic of a skeleton foreboding our every possibility. The world is static, and we move - yet the more asleep we are, the more lifeless the (waking) world seems. Are you afraid to die in your sleep, in a dream? Is a fear of death really a fear of life, a fear to live by the mark of your heart?

 

 

As the days and years count by, how can we say that there is no inner logic to the flux of time, that it progresses uniformly and  smoothly, and not in fits and starts. Like the clearly false notion of space being isotropic, how can time be said to exist without attendant qualities. 

 

 

 

Here on earth every direction has an obviously different character and not just the vertical axis - in every direction we are met with different states of space in the form of objects. 

 

 

 

A path through a forest is a qualitatively different space than a highway through the desert. And, just as our space is not homogeneous all throughout our own lives give ample and overwhelming evidence of the fact that there is a qualitative time. 

 

 

 

The seasons of the year and of our lives are not colorless points on a line smoothly progressing forward into the future, they are beats to the song, the symphonic structure of reality where every moment cannot be reduced to a lone number or a  date but must be considered in its relation to the whole of the eternal progression. 

well you've got many talents; 

I've only got one .. but no one else has it.. 

 

 

 

 

..you must've upset the hierarchy somehow..& now you owe them..

..if the solution is worse than the problem, then the problem is the solution..

analogical hologram: a definition

the correspondence between phenomena based off shared qualities : like the lion and the sun based on their color, with the mane like a bundle of rays streaming forth, and the native habitats being ones of heat. but further that these analogies can be used to engineer phenomena themselves, with each containing some quality of the rest so that there is a link with the greater reality which one seeks to affect..

 

 

(see also the physiognomic relationship of animal likeness in a human form and the corresponding temperament being similar to that of the animal represented)

 

 

 

 

..I really like that idea, that organisms are by-products (maybe even excreta..? 😅..talk about talking out of your ass 🤔) of energies.. compares/con trast/ jibes/integrates real well with a parallel thesis I like a lot, namely that the ego is just a trick of the light & that con sciousness in itself is what's "really real"..in fact maybe they're ways of saying the same thing on different planes..🧐

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Breaking down – under – cover f - - ir – e

 

 

Darwinism  …run! Rampant.
 

 

All skulls are pressed. From the same light as the carbon.
 

 

TheRealities of the cycle-clidick (click) come screaming 

 

 

SCREAMING
 

 

Down
 

 

 

D o w  n  - down.
 

 

 

 

It stings, when they sing, to you...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It's hard to keep the childhood spirit in the face of the adult world.. that's what Crowley meant when he said, 'these are dead, these fellows; they feel not'.. we're walking through a world where many are corpses walking, having lost any attunement to their own he/arts..

When it’s the Stones on the radio you better crank it up!
 

Because they won’t always be here for you.
 

 

But the trails and tribal(-) libations, 

 

oh brother, they are relentless.
 

 

 

And the only way we’ll be getting there baby, is through.

 

 

And this court holds no favor for you.

 

 

So come on now, and sing with me, 

 

because I’ll be here when it’s blue.

 

 

Are you unsettled?

 

 

Well, I’m with you.

 

 

We’re in the weeds.
 

 

 

 

And they have come for you..