Fat Bellies and Walking

I may be quite deluded about what gnosis is, but to me it's about projection. It only took eight hits of purple haze simultaneously to understand the psychological concept of perceiving our own idea of self in other people or things. In other words, we don't see what is there as much as we see what we conceptualize as "being there" for us. I really can't think of anything else a person would have to know in order to rule their own universe than to understand projection.

I'm gonna go over to the Wal-Mart strip mall pretty soon to walk. The side walks are nice and wide and easy to manipulate without stumbling or causing myself problems. I usually do a walking meditation even though my primary purpose if to get some exercise. I use a fairly complicated counting system to keep my focus on my breathing. It's somewhat equivalent to rubbing your belly and patting yourself on the head at the same time. The tediousness of keeping the count automagically keeps me focused.

Recently, in the last couple of walks as a matter of fact, I've been practicing a new sort of breathing during my walking meditations. I draw the air in my inhales by dropping my belly to create a vacuum with my sagging guts on my solar plexus. That action is what sucks the air into my lungs. The only muscles I use is when I squeeze the air out of my lungs when I exhale.

This is not so easy to do when I'm sitting down to meditate. Particularly because I got a bit of a fat belly, and when I let it droop to suck air into my lungs by it's sagging, my belly stops drooping when it hits my lap. When I'm walking, my fat belly doesn't get in the way. It's not easy to breath this way. It's counter intuitive and I have to think it through as I do it. Toward the end of my walk, though, it's easier.

It's my opinion that doing the breath exercises and meditating is a big deal, but nobody listens to me when I recommend it. I don't really blame them when I look in the mirror. Why would they wanna do something that might cause them to end up looking like me?

The Ten Most Likely Way Life On Earth Will Die

I just watched a scary video on ten ways life on Earth can cease to exist. You can watch it too:

http://www.ted.com/talks/stephen_petranek_counts_down_to_armageddon.html

I don't know why you would watch this video. I'm kind of sorry I did. But, everything the man talks about is nothing new. Most of it has appeared in the media for years and years. Life is very fragile. Shit happens. Thangs change.

The stuff this guy talks about, like Earth getting hit by an astroid or the development of new disease strains like the black plague are events the individual doesn't have much if any control over. If any one person survived such a cataclysmic event it would be sheer, random chance. It might not be worth it if you did survive. What for? Who is gonna manufacture the hope humans need to carry on?

It is because of my remembering vision that I don't feel ultimately threatened with extinction. The inner-most essential part of me was revealed to have co-me to this planet from outer space. Once here, it met other pearl-like creatures that also came here from outer space.

Those singularities will only get flung back into space if an astroid smashes the Earth to smithereens. It can create life such as us Earth creatures anywhere it finds a place it can imitate what it finds there, and adopt it's creations to evolve eventually into something like homo sapiens if it has time before an astroid destroys the new place too.

Life as we know it can't survive but for so long before it becomes a victim of random chance, but that which creates life as we know it always survives. I'm fascinated by the notion of some little things called neutrinos that I heard about when I was fairly young. The described characteristic that fascinated me about what I heard about neutrinos is that they get flung out into space from solar flares, and the big deal is, that they go right clear through Earth and everything on it.

The "spark of life" that I'm calling a pearl because it looked like an oyster pearl when I "saw" it seems like it got to Earth sort of like a neutrino is said to get here, but it's not a neutrino and it didn't go through the Earth as if it wasn't here. For all I know there could be countless billions of pearl-like creatures isolated on planets like Mars that can't evolve life forms there because the cosmic soup ain't right for doing it there.

The memory part of that pearl is the memory of what amount of consciousness has been developed anytime the pearl has found an atmosphere in which it can evolve into it's predictable life forms. It's this memore that fascinates me the most, and why would it not? Every macro- or micro- form of life including bacteria and germs or otherwise enemies of life are life themselves. I don't think it matters which prevails.

Another Day, Another Dollar

I drove over to Fayetteville today. I used going to the VA to see if I could get the travel money they owe me, but I went mostly just to get outta town for a while. There was a fine mist in the air the whole time I was gone. It never did rain, but the mist was continuous for hours. There was something very eerie about that mist. I slowed down to the speed limit because i thought it might make the road slick.

I looked for an TV signal amplifier while I was over in Fayetteville. They have a lot more stores over there. Everywhere I went they were out of stock on just about anything to do with over-the-air digital antennas. I get lousy reception here. I'm half-way between the State capitol and Wilmington, and when the weather is the slightest bit off I can't get a strong signal from either. The only way I can get a better signal is to buy a signal amplifier. I have one now, but it's not up to the task. I'll probably just wait for a while and see if there is a better solution.

Bits And Pieces

The weather has been a little sporadic today. All the way from bright sunlight to sudden showers with huge, plopping raindrops. The showers have arrived in stealth mode for the most part. They announce themselves to me by the drumming sound they make on the preserved wood deck just beyond the opened outside door. The wind didn't pick up and there was no lightening to announce it's coming like it usually is in summer. Just "plop, plop... fizz, fizz... Oh, whatta relief it is!" You know about Alka-Selzer rains... right?

It's not often that I realize in real time that I've been writing about arriving on Earth as an alien for several decades, and yet I don't actually view myself as an alien in essence, but a living docetic spirit that can't figure out how to be wholy human in every way. Especially to die as humans do forever, and thus move it on down the line.

This theme of doceticism is not my idea or creation, but a theme of description that highly amuses me to work my way with it. It fits right in with my Kundalini rap of my twenties. The only difference I can find is culture and lingo. The content is essentially the same if the roots of metaphor are uncovered. Presently, I'm writing as though homo sapiens have a species flaw, and concluding that other cultures have called this species flaw other naymes including "the original sin." YMMV

This species-wide flaw causes humans and other species to imitate the possibilities of the other in their own best interest as "monkey see/monkey do" studies indicate, because they can't realize and initiate their own individuated possibilities in real time for-the-other. Compassion is distinctly human, but not all humans act compassionately even part of the time.

Why would they bother? They were created by aliens. They are the aliens themselves at heart. Rather, in essence, they are the aliens who created what eventually evolved into homo sapiens presently. It's the alien part of us that came to Earth without much option that is the mustard seed of all life on Earth. 

That's not exactly honest or true for me to write that. My remembering vision was for all practical purposes about just me. At least, every aspect of it was about what had happened to me individually since I arrived here from outer space billions of years ago. It's only in this way that what I experienced was cosmic consciousness. It was not in any way all-knowing about the rest of existence.

What the other pearls who arrived here like I did experienced, I can't vouch for, but we all imitated each other in such detail that the only real differences between us soon after we got here (a million years here, a million years there) seemed bound to what part of the swarm we incrementally spooned with. Some cracks in ti-me produced pintos; other cracks in time made camels.

Systems of expertise are not the equivalent of gnosis. Yet, it appears to take two to tango in this regard. In a system of expertise the database used to apperceive a correct diagnosis or a winning move is memorized and used to calculate predictable results. 

With gnosis, the database is provided by revelation and can't be earned by merit. It can't be prayed or preyed for, but is irrefutably given whether wanted or not. If you don't wanna abandon yo' parent's ways to accept it by your own hand, then it's given the hard way. Gnosis ain't always a blessing, and who-you-think-you-are dies like a dog in a ditch anyway. 

For me a real problem happened early on when I took to the notion that the people around me oughta hafta obey the rules of conscience I chose for myself to be-co-me king of the world. Most didn't/don't like it or find much value in the experience, No more than I would like it if they expected me to obey the rules of conscience designed to get them what they wanted, even if turn-about is fair play. 

I can't be sure that other people get mad when other people ignore the rules of conscience they're bound to by affirmation, because I have to interpret their behavior by my own world view like everybody else, but they act like they do when I treat them like I would myself.

Keeping My Stopping Still

The fireworks are exploding in full force now. I can hear them in all directions. My brother next door was down by the pond setting firecrackers off for his twin grandsons. I seem satisfied to sit here and reminisce. I don't have to see the real thing to imagine people's reactions.

I've been spending more time meditating and practicing the breathing techniques I've used since the Sixties. I smoked cigarettes for all but the three years I stopped sometime in the past, and the year and a half I've stopped this time. Not smoking seems to have opened up a more subtle pathway for breathing or it could be that I've redeveloped feelings in that part of my nasal passages recently.

I found a new focus point for getting my breathing to take the right shape as I first attempt to direct it to the right area just inside my nostrils. I imagine seaweeds flowing in the current around coral reefs, but the hairs just inside my nares are what really flows back and forth as I breath in and out.

It's important for me to establish an awareness of the quality or characteristics of the air just inside of my nostrils. Doing that forces me to breath from the right place. I can concentrate on feeling a specific spot in my perineum and the same thing will happen.

When I get it right I feel the desired feedback at the same time from both areas, and that eventually leads me to my brow chakra and then my crown chakra, and when the sensations from all the chakras gets coordinated some very powerful things can happen.

The only real and sort of permanent problem I have with this breathing technique is that I have a deviated septum so that the air passage I need for this technique is usually stuffed up a bit, and it can take forever to get it clear enough to not have to think about it for a while.

Sometimes when I get it clear enough then I don't have any more trouble in a session, but usually it will get clogged again, and I have to stop and clear it out again with several variations of blowing my nose. This particular type of blockage doesn't interfere with my regular breathing much at all. Just when I'm meditating.

I wanna explore again what happens when I stop my breath and my heart from beating. I got a feeling I'll just lose consciousness and start breathing automatically after I'm out, but it may be more complicated than that. A couple of days ago I got my breathing stopped for a while. It was fairly familiar territory. Everything seems to have to be just right though, to be able to stop my breath and my heart from beating. I'll find out in the near future.

Costumed Grown-ups Acting Like Children

I don't know how unique being raised the way I was in on comparison to how other people were raised in the United States. It was certainly dominated by agriculture. Both in the fact that my father was a high school agriculture teacher, and it was in this capacity that he was the adviser to the Future Farmers of America club in all the little villages and towns on the North Carolina coastal plains we moved to. We move here when I was twelve years old, and our family has remained here since then for the most part. The unique thing about being raised here in this area is that the main cash crop grown in this area was/is tobacco. Lots of it.

One of the most exciting things about moving here was that it was almost big enough to be considered a town instead of a village, but only because it is the county seat of the largest county in the state land-wise. Population-wise, it's not a metropolis. The State capitol is about sixty miles away, and it has grown into a metropolitan area along with the towns surrounding it into The Research Triangle. The big deal about that to a twelve year me was that they had a Boy Scout troop here, and I had heard all about the Boy Scouts well before we moved here.

Joining the Boy Scouts led to an annual collection drive to get money for the Scouts to visit and tour Washington, D.C., our nation's capitol. In the fall, when the tobacco farmers brought their crop to market the scouts were allowed to approach them after their tobacco had been weighed in the woven wooden baskets that are ubiquitous all over tobacco-growing country. Usually it was just a couple of bundles from hundreds of bundles, and it was an act of generosity by the farmers and the buyers. Mostly the buyers. The farmers didn't lose anything because their product had already been weighed and they'd get the money for the full weight.

Going to Washington, D.C. when I was twelve years old was a watermark in my young life because of what I saw there besides the contents of all the museums (which was very exciting, particularly the Smithsonian weapons collection of swords and pistols). I saw snow completely covering the ground for the first time in my life. There might have been as much as three inches of it. There wasn't even any grass sticking up through it in many places. Real snow. The kind you could ride a sled on. I'd never seen a sled before, much less watch some local DC kids sliding down the small hills around the motel there. We don't even have hills here, but there are hills not far from here, like up in the State capitol.

The other thing I saw in DC for the first time when I was twelve years old was Catholic nuns. I'd seen them occasionally in the movies, but not in person, and they were the strangest creatures I'd ever seen. I couldn't figure out why they had to wear costumes like they were in a play or something. As if they weren't actual human beings. The stories among us kids, only one or two of whom had ever seen a nun before, grew to fantastic lengths of fancy.

We also saw some Jewish men who wore those big black hats and had weird-looking haircuts that looked very strange. The closest thing to that us boys from the backwoods had going for us was wearing Bass Weejuns penny loafers, so we'd all look cool. That was nothing compared to what these people. They looked more like grown-ups at a masquerade than us kids trying to seem different did. Of course, I was just as shocked when I passed through Texas, Arizona, and New Mexico, and many people out there actually wore cowboy hats and boots as if life really was a movie.

Seeing that some people do things differently than how I was raised to behave was a huge lesson I'd be learning for the rest of my life. I didn't realize how much difference it made to my personality to have done a lot of traveling when I was a kid. I was born in Mississippi, as were my two older sisters and my parents. My younger brothers were born here.

Our whole family would pack up in the summer and travel a thousand miles each way to and from Mississippi to visit our closest relatives at mostly my mother's mother's house. Hardly anybody I ever went to school with here growing up ever traveled to the state capitol sixty miles away. Then, three months after I graduated from high school I joined the Navy and they sent me to California for boot camp. Traveling defined my life and my personality. I never expected to be in any one place long enough to have to apologize for being different.

Me-dictation

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He can't. He only has intelligence. Apparently, he can only define what a destination is, he can't actually use an oracle to get there.
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This was an interesting projection I made this morning. I accused this dilbert of it. No, not the comic strip character called Dilbert, but the vulgar definition of a dilbert from an earlier era: five pounds of shit in a one pound bag.

Since I have no more choice about projecting than anyone else I wonder why I accused him of it. Apparently, there is some confusion about using the oracles that possess me to reach the good end. To accomplish the goals I set for myself, but that just brings up a deeper question: What are the goals I have that require an oracle to reach them. I may use an oracle more to define them than to navigate to the promised land.

I might not be able to honestly claim that I actually use astrology considering what I just projected upon this guy I exchange insults with. I've never asked for money for making charts. I only use those skills to bargain for their souls in order to make a big deal out of pompously returning it. For some people that's the only way they know they got one.

There is a species-wide flaw in homo sapiens. No one of them can know their own possibilities in real time. It's a big secret from each of us. Our religions are designed to protect us from finding out. No blame. But, what happens if suddenly and unexpectedly you do find out that homo sapiens all share a species flaw? Hopelessness is what happens to you.

One quick, irrefutable glance past the veil of forgetfulness culture and civilization casts over it, and all the sand castles built on hope come tumbling down. Hope is the only thing anybody got for sale. Hope is the only commodity we possess for a better tomorrow. Without it, the end is near, and the ghouls take flight from their perch in the dead trees around the cemetery.

I'm attempting to write about total and irrefutable panic. Like what happens when you get waterboarded. Aiiiyeeee! Like when you naturally have a near death experience by drowning or having a double-dunk total immersion baptism performed upon you in the nayme of anything or anybody.

There is a window that can be opened that allows the witness to "see" that hope is a false god. Waterboarding, near-drownings, and total immersion baptism all do that, and that's just the start of the list. One glimpse of "the big lie" is all it takes to break down the integrity of practically anybody and cause them to submit to the prevailing winds.

When such a state of panic is induced by whatever means, the recipient will consider any resolution to not have that happen again. It's like suddenly realizing in fact that everything you consider as support for being what you pretend to the world is yanked away, and if anybody ever realized how vulnerable you are they could control your life as if it were a spinning ball in the palm of their hand.

The real problem for me upon "seeing" the futility of hope is how I respond to being exposed to the big lie. Most of the time it's not me "seeing" the world as it is that lets me understand the inevitable response of total panic. It's watching my breath that warns me. When I become aware of how my breathing is responding to some impetus from the external world, it warns me to go inside of myself to where I can witness why that's going on.

I've read about breath control since I started doing hatha yoga in my twenties, and couldn't not be concerned with it as I learned how to practice me-ditation. I was told over and over to watch my thoughts and to be aware of my surroundings. This usually led my attention inside where I would begin to focus on how the air I breathed had a different quality about in as I inhaled it through my nostrils, and how it felt when I exhaled it through my nostrils.

The government has a policy about how to catch gangsters known as "follow the money." I've followed a policy of "follow the breath". I developed an incurable desire to find out what inspired me to breath the way I do. Both when I'm active or sitting quite still and anywhere in between. Why does my body breath the way it does, and can I learn from observation how to circumvent my usual reaction to what ails me by interfering somehow with the way I always reacted.

There is a way to nip reactionary thoughts in the bud. It's the only way I know how to control the panic of becoming aware of the implications of the big lie. If I am able to not-panic, then I can explore deeper into why hope is a false god.

I disclaim knowing what the truth about anything is. Seeking the veracity of the drifting thoughts I attempt to capture with words is not productive, and in fact, reaching for a true judgment of the emperor's new clothes isn't very entertaining, and amusing myself is the most profound excuse I can think of for saying what I see. I try to tell it all, and let God sort out the truth or falsity of both this and that.