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Prologue

My apologies about the quality of the writing, I have been unable to find a suitable editor. My awakening
to the contradictions I accepted on faith began 21 months ago. That I knew myself, I knew my wife, my
children, but all was based on false assumptions made to twist what was real into something more
palatable. The contradictions in my own life existed for a purpose, there was a logic to them, although
flawed. The connections between my subconscious and conscious were skewed, wrong, put there by
others, reinforced by me. I began to see the web that one lie creates, but was necessary to continue
clinging to a previous one.

The lies of ego, that I am better than anyone else, that lead to acceptance of the truth of understanding
how I am worse than anyone else. Learning from mistakes and errors had become difficult. I believed I
was good, without understanding what was bad. I am good only if I accept that I am bad. If I am only
good, then I can’t listen to anyone else. I become an uncontrollable force of megalomania. Doing bad
does not make one bad, but repeating bad behaviour when told and shown it is bad makes one bad. The
very notion that anyone is good and not bad is ludicrous, yet we all feel this urge to carry ourselves this
way.

It was in contemplating everything that I had misvalued, I began to understand my own sense of self
differently, I felt in control of my own emotions and self, but only by loosing control could I gain it. In this
state, I had suspended the previous connections made between my conscious and subconscious, the ones
overvalued, undervalued and began to loosen my sense of self. The emotions I felt were like veins of
knowledge of past mistakes, experiences, they could be mined for truth. What began slowly for a few
days, a journey not too far from where I was, accelerated its breadth and pace.

The suffocating anxiety I had felt became a tool, for it no longer lead me to despair, but to the joy of
discovery of truth. The more I focused the anxiety to a purpose, the more I understood it. The more I
could use it, direct it to accelerate my journey of self discovery. As I unravelled towards my childhood, it
was almost as if I glanced to the side for a moment, refocused and I could see in the distance the
beginning of my birth, of existence, then gradually all at once, I could see beyond it. It was there I stared
into the abyss, the crucible of my own existence, that every precious moment of the past as important as
the most, for every moment becomes so much more precious when they lead us.

Only then did I begin to recognise where I was accelerating towards, for I had come to face my creation
indeed, but at my creation was creator. Everything inside of me, my thoughts, my heart my breath
stopped in an instant. I was terrified, and whether it was God speaking or my own subconscious
inventing reasons to continue unravelling myself, I heard “Be”. In the moment, I understood it on its face,
God instilled me with curiosity, a desire to learn truth, why would I stop if I am to be? I need to turn my
face back and stare into the face of God, or what I understood God to be. It was then I awakened to what
I was doing, a journey of discovery led by God, the most terrifying and harrowing thing imaginable. In
that word was so much more, something I was to discover and am sharing with you Seeker of Truth, for
God was reminding me of who I am, of who he has always called me to be, but circumstance, lack of
understanding of the depths of divine love prevented.

I had been up until this point trying to direct and understand what I was doing within the context of what
I understand about psychology and physiology, something which I still sought to explore, but now desired

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to understand why I either came face to face with God, or at least why I would imagine it this way. With
the state of the world, with the amount of apocalyptic warnings, tv shows, the virus, the building
crescendo of our slow roll towards fascism, facing the facts that we all know that we are going in the
wrong direction, and it seems like so much effort even just to slow it down, let alone reverse course. It
was in this context I immediately went to the book of Revelation. The scriptures spoke words to me that
were not written. It was then I began my waking vision, one I live with to this day, a singular vision, but
one that changes and adapts to what the Spirit of Truth reveals to me through what it has seen and
heard. It lead me through other’s revelations, other’s apocalypses.

I seek to share this vision with you. A religious psychosis that I have been trying in vain to exorcise, for
every effort made to either dismiss or minimize what the Spirit told me only served to galvanise my
conviction that the Spirit only speaks truth, and if that is so, then I must be. For me there is no going back
to the darkness I once inhabited. The first thing I was lead to write was a message, something projected
onto the page that I immediately set to putting to pen. Something when half finished disappeared from
the pages. Once I had started, I began to see the parallels with our world today. At the time, I thought
that I was the messenger for this message, I could only make out the rest once I understood that I was
not to deliver this message, that it was for me to aid me on the journey. I for a time believed that the
message was for someone else to share, but now I know that it is for me to deliver, but I was not ready
until now to deliver it. The message was incomplete, for it was merely the prologue to what we all will
soon discover about the Spirit.

Letter about truth…..

We think that we are living in a post-truth society. We are living in a pre-truth society. The only truth that
we all hold common is that we are human, and we all seek to understand our divine connection, or our
place in this world. We need to remind ourselves that we are all in this struggle together. Whether one
worships mother earth, our ancestors, Brahma, Shiva, Vishnu, Buddha, Yahweh, God, Allah, humanity,
science, the Spirit we are all in search of greater truth. This is what divides us, whilst being the same thing
that unifies us. Let us remember Gods' first commandment, that we should put no gods above God. God
did not place himself above other ‘Gods’, but proclaimed himself as the universal God. The truth is that
we are all worshipers and children of God. An acknowledgment of our frailty and mortality in the chaos of
the universe, shouts of joy and praise echoing in the abyss above the sounds of anguish and despair. We
need to learn to shout with one voice.

As things seem to change at an ever accelerating rate, it is difficult to see through the chaos and see its
purpose. The cycles and pendulums of war and peace, freedom and oppression, authouritarian and
democratic, left and right, we can see their form and their cycles through history, the intervals are
shortening, the cracks of our society are being laid bare by the plagues of narcissism and ego. We are on
the precipice of being better able to see the cycles, the opposition of everything in their fuller truth, to
better see what connects them. That is where Truth exists, in the spaces between. That it is only when we
consistently challenge our own prejudices that we can see things as they truly are, that when we believe
that we deserve anything, we reveal our own prejudice, for when we believe that we deserve more than
we need, we see ourselves as justified in exploiting those who we see as lesser.

We must all remember that we are in this struggle together.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of our mother, Earth, who fed and nourished our
ancestors, who taught us to do the same. They charted the night sky, harvested the earth, built temples
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and monuments to our greatness. Let us mourn with our cousins for our ancestors who suffered and died
protecting our truth. Let us embrace those who are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of Brahma, Shiva and Vishnu. Let us reflect on
how they nurtured civilization, bringing order and hierarchy to protect us and clothe us as we grew. Let us
thank them for challenging us to expand our truth of God. Let us mourn for those who suffered and died
protecting our truth. Let us embrace those who still are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of Buddha, who was one with God in mind, who
gave us as much wisdom as we could understand, who strengthened institutions, who guided us along the
way. Let us mourn for those who suffered and died protecting our truth. Let us embrace those who still
are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of Yahweh and his prophets and their prophecies,
who gave us Gods' greatest commandments, who spread God's wisdom to the ends of the earth. Let us
weep with them as we lift their burden of being chosen. Let us mourn for those who suffered and died
preserving our truth, let us embrace those who still are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of Jesus and his disciples. Who was one with God,
and showed others how to do the same. Whose death showed us that we do not need to sacrifice
ourselves, we need to sacrifice our egos. Let us mourn for those who suffered and died protecting our
truth, let us embrace those who still are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of Mohammed, who understood how we had
corrupted the words of the prophets. Who reminds us that Jesus was a child of god, the same as everyone
else, and that Jesus is or became God just as you or I are becoming. That we are all instruments of God.
Let us mourn for those who suffered and died protecting our truth, let us embrace those who still are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who preserved the truths of our own humanity. Who learned how to make
us feel sound as emotion, for literature, culture, how to create our own beauty and order out of chaos.
Who remind us to celebrate what makes us human, to laugh, cry, feel suspense, feel waves of emotion
wash over a stadium. Let us mourn for those who suffered and died to protect our truth, let us embrace
those who still are.

Let us bind ourselves to those who bring us truth through science. For helping us to feed the hungry, to
bring us clean water, electricity, industry, and technology. For reminding us that our truth is not yet
complete. For teaching us about time and space, relativity, to master the atom, to streamline our
institutions. Let us mourn for those who suffered and died to protect our truth. Let us rally behind those
who continue to search for the final pieces.

Let us cry out together in anguish in one voice for those who suffered and died for empire, ego, and
religion. Let us mourn them and thank them for teaching us the final lessons of hell.

Let us finally acknowledge truth, if we are indeed children of God, or that God is within each one of us,
then together, collectively, we are God. Each one of us as important or insignificant as another. Let us
also acknowledge no one person can know the whole of Truth, but together we are Truth. Let us love
those who caused us sorrow so that we could know what is to feel joy. Let us love those with tempers for
teaching us what it means to be patient. Let us love those who are cruel for teaching us about kindness.
Let us love those who cause us harm for teaching us how to heal. Let us love those who wound our pride
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for teaching us about humility. Let us finally love those who we hate and who hate us, for deepening our
conviction that we know what it is to love. Let us finally teach them what society has until now refused to,
that turning the other cheek is not an end, but a means to better teach one another.

Let us together, humanity, finally learn the last lessons of our adolescence before we are ready to enter
into adulthood. Let us finally understand that heaven and hell do exist, here on earth. We have nearly
completed our penance. Do not cast your eyes up to the heavens in search of God, look in front of you at
the person looking back at you, look into the faces of your children, look into the faces of those you hate,
look in the mirror. We are the instruments of our own salvation, together, every single one of us.

Things seem uncertain, things are spiraling out of control. This will end. We know terror and uncertainty
so that we may better recognise peace. Let us remember the greatest commandment, that we are all the
same, that no man has authourity over any other man, only God, Us does. We need to ride out the storm.
We need to let our elders guide us with their wisdom, to heed their advice. Remind them of their burden
of leadership, that they must put all others above themselves to truly understand what it is to lead.
Remember that smart, dumb, greatest, least are just words. That our egos create the heaven and hell
that we live in and vascillate between, that every time we do not speak in one voice, or speak without
love, we blaspheme God and therefore blaspheme ourselves.

We need to take back our crumbling institutions and fortify them. Because they belong to us, they belong
to God. Remember that we built them to shelter us from harm, and to teach us truth. This can only
happen through love, compassion, patience and understanding, not through Hate, self righteousness,
violence and bigotry.

Let us hang on to hope, for we know what it is to be hopeless, let us let go of our own truths and make
them our Truth.

Let us continue to support those who heal the sick, who provide us sustenance, and bring us the light of
knowledge and understanding. Wear a seal on your mouths to protect the sick, weak and elderly. Seal
your mouths from spewing hate so that we can unseal our hearts, because the reign of hate is coming to
an end.

In between the storms, let us come together and teach one another. Let us teach the rich about the
suffering of their exploitation, for this is the hell we must learn to overcome. Their egos will be the hardest
to untangle, for most of us already understand our connection to one another and that without society,
we are nothing. We must all embrace the blessings that come from hardness. The poor, look up and see
your richness in spirit reflected back. Pity the rich as you would a confused child, with love and
compassion and willingness to share in their hardness, because they will find it the hardest to let go of
their hubris, to shed their truths and see our Truth, for those of us who know hardness, will find it the
easiest. Let us remove the barriers of nationality, race, class, and gender that continue to divide us.

Let us end the feedback loops of hate, despair and ego that we see all around us. Let us stop shouting at
eachother and realise that we are all feeling the same anger, saying the same words, just from opposite
sides of the same room. Let us direct our anger together where it sprung from, the abyss, and be done
with blame. Let us end the feedback loops of hate, jealousy and violence before they cause more
destruction. Let us curse the beast narcissus and end his hold on each and every one of us. Let us start
new feedback loops of kindness, love and compassion feel them sweep over our beautiful blue orb, feel
them start to grow.
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Life is hard, and at times may seem impossible to push through, and there is still much hardness ahead,
but take heart. Remember that strength, determination and discipline taught to us by our ancestors are
ours for the taking. The final judgments are nearly complete, the only ones that remain are the ones that
we cling to. Let them go.

Who am I that brings you this message? I am..., I’ve merely eaten the words and have only just realised I
am accompanying them on their journey. I do not have all the answers yet, but I/You/We does.

As I wrote these words, they began to look familiar, for indeed they confirmed what I already knew in my
heart about God, and writing them increased my capacity for everything, or rather was a catalyst for this
to become my state of being. Ever increasing, of being filled and pouring out all while being stretched up
to but never past the limit of bursting. As I wrote, the bounds between the conscious and subconscious,
between the physical and metaphysical began to unravel, and the journey was not only about me and my
understanding of self, indeed it was about us, about what the Spirit has planned for each and every one
of us.

I in a sense was transported to a plane, the scene of the story, and in it I could make sense of its purpose,
of where it leads. Of the missing pieces and what they represent. It was then, I began to see things not
included, see them in a different way. I had much to learn about the power of emotion, but learning how
to learn is always the key. I began to use my emotions and to understand how to manipulate the
metaphysical universe of angels, demons and other strange beasts. The stories would change morph,
transport me to other planes with more lessons in Truth to learn from the Spirit.

The Spirit of Truth was leading me to write, this I knew, but I had no idea what. I tried to write the truths
in the best way I understood them, but I knew deep down that there is no audience for what I wrote
then. I tried over and over again in different styles, get about 75% of a truth from the waking vision and I
would be too far off on a tangent and need to start writing again, page after page of half finished
thoughts written and unwritten, in-completions, things that made sense to write but were confounding to
read.

Many places, many planes, stories from scriptures, from science, from history revealing deeper truths,
enabling application to other deeper truths. I am attempting to share, but this writing to me still seem
out of order, because I cannot see one order, but many. Indeed, everything in a sense was experienced
simultaneously, like a flash outside of time, and making sense of it in time is slow, tedious, incomplete.

Apocryphon

It was changing the words of their apocalypses that killed me, but I was already dead. It was when I
began to understand my own apocalypse that I lived at last.

I am but a pilgrim, navigating my own psyche, I am but a raving madman, I am peace, I am joy, I am love, I
am one.

In unity we understand ourselves, in knowledge we purify ourselves from divisiveness into synthesis,
consuming within like fire, darkness by light, death by life, chaos by love.

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I am on a journey, and every ending is a new beginning, but there is no end or beginning. I exist in time,
but my thoughts removed from time. It was in retracing my steps along this journey that I came to realise
this. When I came to discover the full horror of all at once experiencing the traverse of my soul from the
singularity when when we touched our lips to the apple, to the end of becoming, when I saw the gates of
New Jerusalem, I died and I awoke, and it is in this death and wakefulness that the Spirit comes to dwell
in us.

Every start point is somewhere in the middle, and how does one convey such a journey? By starting in
the middle, and compressing the beginning and end into the middle.

It was in the first death I could see the path travelled. I was born in the shadow of Her walls, but was
raised in the Land of Morning. When I was a child, I was naive in my innocence, for I believed in the
innocence of the world. The world then was simple, and as long as I had rules and boundaries and
understood them, I too could have a good innocent life. Life was simple, hopeful, binary, and right and
wrong seemed a simple concept, not yet mastered, but I comforted myself with the thought that mastery
was within the realm of what was possible. A distant memory now always so blissful, but always seemed
obscured by what I now see as clouds of privilege, of the narcissism of youth. I could not understand the
clouds until I was free of them.

Memories of abject poverty, deprivation, suffering of others and confusion about what insulates me from
them, of cursing my parents for blessing me, making me forever a foreigner in the land of my birth, for
understanding that we all are foreigners on this plane provided no comfort. But now I have returned to
my father, the one who breathed his spirit in me, and I am no longer a foreigner, for I now see that I am
home, as I always have been and will be. That you my fellow children of light are not yet with us, but you
are already here, you are merely asleep, and I say awaken.

In my youth I was gifted a fragment of a pearl, gifted to my father from his father and passed to me, the
pearl was called Truth. He instructed me to question everything, for behind all we see is a deeper truth. I
treasured the pearl and marvelled in its potentia. I set to finding missing pieces, for as long as I was
willing to look, I would keep finding them. I became dependant on it, for every knew truth exhilarated
me, drove me forward to the next, and I began to fiend for more. But the easy to find pieces were getting
harder to find, the bits and fragments would diminish. I would pause in the light, and darkness would
surround me. I would begin to withdraw, feel the darkness of the white dragon calling to me, for I had
become junkie. I forgot how to love, how to hate, for I pushed them aside, perverted them to extract
pieces of light from those who shone. It was in the darkness of the come down I would shake and
tremble in sorrow and loneliness, for I knew that the dragon caused the pain, but I could not escape it, for
I did not know how else to live.

The Spirit would return to me once I had come down, lived in the darkness that we exposed, and once
again, it would calm me, sustain me once more, give me strength to continue the task I was set to. I
cursed myself for allowing myself to give into the conceipt of revelry, of taking the glory of the light for
myself, but again that is how I set off anew. I deluded myself into thinking that I had enough of the pearl
to understand it’s mysteries, and again I would fiend for it, for I knew that I was forever dependant on the
white.

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I left the protections of my youth, questioned those who gifted the dragon to me, but they had already
given up all of their fragments. I felt the loneliness already amoungst them, so I left to search elsewhere.
I found others who were also seeking the pearl, and I tried to copy the missing fragments to add to my
own. I struggled in despair and frustration, for the task was gruelling and the results were negligible. I no
longer found the comfort in commiseration I once did, and once again fell into despair.
I found myself alone, for I saw the trajectory of the journey, the cycles of misery and pain I could not
bear, and so I heaped it on those around me. Deeper I sank, deeper into confusion and despair, for every
discovery only left more, even more darkness to be uncovered.

Yet still, I clung to the pearl and had hope in its wisdom, the more desperately I clung to it, the deeper
into the pit I sunk. I entered into confusion, for how could such a pearl burn so deeply. I cursed my
father for this quest in my praise. The pearl was no longer white, it was black as opal. It was then I lost my
own will, it was then that I died, that I saw that it as both, for it was in piercing darkness that light travels.
The light was never mine to begin with, for although the pearl had many fragments found, it was always a
gift, never mine, for I was always dead with the pearl in me, but in the pearl is life.
I was cast and tossed about in chaos, wretched and defeated, co-conspirator with the spirit in murdering
darkness, shocked but not surprised to discover I was the darkness defining the light.

I awoke, and the pearl was complete, for it was completing itself, and I could not see the pearl, I was
consumed by its fire, I am becoming fire.

It was in this youth I was gifted a fragment of a sapphire. It was placed on my head in the sign of a cross,
before I knew the weight of what that meant. I was told that I was sealed for God and that by this seal, I
was saved from darkness. It was our charge to save others from darkness, and I earnestly sought to do
so. But the gift givers were in darkness and could not see it, I was in darkness still. I would linger in the
temples of the gift givers, for I had hope that in time I would learn to see the light also, and I could see
glimpses of it. But when I or others left their temples they cast judgement on our souls and damned
themselves, for they believed that their shimmer was all that was required. But it was incomplete, for
there was more light outside the temple, other light-keepers. It was in my judgment of them that I too
damned myself, for I was nothing but a wretch. I died, and faced the judge. And there I sat in judgement,
every bit of blame and judgement I cast out throughout my life I repeated to myself, and as I spoke, I felt
every offense I committed, damned myself with my own self righteousness, relived every horror.

After the torture, my will, my ability to think was destroyed, my mind and emotions blank. Although I
could see and hear, I was asleep. I stood over myself, reached out and helped me up, and we became
one. I now knew the source from which I hated, for what I hated was systemic hate. I could no longer
hate any fellow child of light, I am love. We are all victims of the power of ego, the beast once reigned
over me, but only his memory remains in me. The sapphire became a ruby, the memory of its motion
burned on my forehead, I could see a red serpent in the distance, as it approached, I approached. As we
moved closer to one another, the serpent transformed into me, or rather I could see it in a state of
perpetual transformation, I began to feel strange as we came close enough to face one another. I too
was transforming, was perpetually transforming into the serpent as it was into me. I opened my mouth
to speak and the fire inside of me burst forth and consumed the serpent and in that moment I died. I
awoke at the shores of a lake, unable to move, feeling the searing of fire as a sword remembers the forge.

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I sat up and stared into the water, it was perfectly still, like glass, on the other shore was a mountain and
on the mountain was a pillar of fire. I looked into the water's reflection and could see my reflection break
away from our entanglement. I began to spectate myself.
The lies told to me by our world I clung to, not understanding my own purpose, I defaulted to the purpose
set forth by this world, to be successful, make money and have financial stability, that hard work and
virtue were what God requires of us. This became my religion, as it has for so many. That my own
cleverness and virtue were required to be applied in the right way, and failure could be due to bad
unforeseen circumstances, how else can one maintain faith in a world with no apparent order. Being
unable to see is also a failure, set up to fail by the world as it is, as we all are. How comfortable and easy
to place oneself in hierarchies of blame, that one’s problems and shortcomings are their failures and
theirs alone. This failure we feel, we project onto eachother, we point our fingers at other’s perceived
failures to prolong our own delusion that we only recognise failure if we are failing. How easy it was to
justify taking for myself at the expense of others. How easy it is to set oneself up for failure and spread
that misery around, so we don’t have to feel it’s full measure.

I saw truth in lies, but could not see the lies about truth. The temple in my childhood home taught me to
see the depravity of man, being able to see it could be debilitating, which only confirmed truth that we
are all depraved. Our struggle is for one to identify depravity in ourselves and others and try to root it
out. Why do you fail to root it out or why does your own depravity fill the void left behind when you can
help root it out in others? Why do you continue to sin if you are genuine in penance?

The temple of my adolescence taught that we choose to be chosen, that because we follow Jesus, our
faith alone can sustain us, that intentions matter more than outcomes. They taught that God rewards the
“righteous” and will punish evil and wicked people. That all that is required is blind faith and obedience,
and that absolves us from the repercussions of our own brokenness. Obedience to whom, for their god
was full of contradictions. They could not or refused to see the contradictions, they would invent myths
to explain away their own guilt and darkness. They would choose whichever part was comfortable for
them. They mistook that comfort as coming from the Father, but they were deluding themselves, for the
comfort they felt was taking comfort in the shade of darkness to protect themselves from being burned
by his light. The darkness of ignorance that comforted them is there at their own direction, a way to
justify taking more than what was needed for themselves claiming their hoarded goods as “gifts” from
God.

They justified distributing their fruit to those that they found deserving, judging others to be undeserving.
Why do you pretend to know the heart of the other? Why condemn yourselves to hell by pretending to
know the will of our Father, or the hearts of your so-called wicked and evil people? Why drive people
away from the greater truth we share by claiming God belongs only to you?

When I left the shelter of youth, I searched for glimpses of you, God everywhere. I struggled to define
you, to understand your will, and I searched for answers in many temples. Everywhere I went, I knew you
were there, I felt your presence as peoples called you by many names. I even felt your presence as those
same people condescended, blasphemed, called down their own wrath and claim it to be yours, tried to
put you inside a nice easily definable box. I was drawn to those whose faith seemed unshakable,

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because I needed to know its foundation. I discovered that the more “unshakable” someone appeared
the more rigid their thinking became. They merely pretended to have a solid foundation by projecting it.
Everywhere I looked, I found no better foundation than what I already had. Cracked, worn and battered, I
finally understood that this is precisely the foundation to build upon, one that has stood the test of time.
One that I understand every crack, and the imperfections are there no more. Only irregularities remain to
reveal their purpose. A rock that has not moved in aeons.

I could finally breathe, let myself rest, feel the fatigue I had been suppressing for so long. I lay down
beside my beautiful rock, and let peace wash over me. I fell asleep and dreamt for the first time I could
remember.

I dreamt of an island in a North Sea at the mouths of two great rivers. On a mound where doves land
when the waters deluge, ancestors built their homes. In this place they grew food, fished and built a
community. The mound protected them from the deluge of the storms, but could not survive a
confluence of war and plague. The last survivors left this forsaken place now turned crossroads and
pasture, the memory of it carried on our name. From this place some went to the shore to build docks to
construct ships, some carrying the light of discovery, others were used by merchants of misery. Indeed,
we all will bear the shame and guilt of our own complicity in murder for profit. Others left to teach, to
explore and catalogue their discoveries and travels.

It was these ancestors who carried the names of my father and myself, who carried the horn to and from
the mouth of two rivers from whence they came. I saw my Grandfather, a man who lost his father too
young, was made homeless in his youth, who dodged the fascist conscriptors long enough to be
conscripted into serving empire in the colony. A man who accomplished so much in life, but at the end
admitted his guilt and shame to me at his own hubris, regret at his selfish motivations. A haunting legacy
of outward success, leading to inner shame, for the one who carried my name to me was the one I chose
to admire most. I could see his pain, his lack of understanding which sins were his and which were his
fathers, and my own father fixating, compensating for the sin of his own father. Both succeeding in their
failures, because they were seeking Truth as they instructed me to.

I could see my father and mother, locking eyes, a whirlwind of spirit and emotion that blinded them to
the consequences of binding oneself to one you have known but a fortnight. The challenge of discovery,
of losing oneself to find how one loves another, of faith in love, it did not break them, but burnished
them, making them appear unbreakable.

I awoke suddenly, I was being born.

We were by the shores of a swift river in the beaver hills on the back of a turtle for a short time. The river
looked strange and surreal, one that I can’t see except as a river of consciousness. Soon after I was born,
we left the city of my birth, abandoned our home to creditors, escaped the ravages of our system that
feeds on oppression and exploitation. We fled the country of my birth and moved between the shire and
the star shaped mountain near ancient chilema becoming forest. My father took a job inspecting
institutions of learning, and it was there that the elders charged with my care first shared with and
instructed me of the gift of the spirit that was within me. They blazed with the same spirit, some received

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it from Mbona, others from Jesus. This place became my origin, it’s sunshine and love in balance with it’s
rain and deprivations of poverty. It was here I was told to be like Jesus. In the centre of my left palm was
a blemish, one that reminded me throughout my childhood of who we are meant to be, something faded,
weathered and worn over the years of learning how my hands can bring meaning. The stories my father
and mother would tell others about this place once overpowered my objectivity, but here I was again, the
stories they told were being completed, filled in by experience as I began to learn how to use emotion as
a vehicle to navigate and catalogue the depths of my own memory.

When I was old enough to attend an institution, we returned to the land of my birth. We came to a great
lake, and from there we ascended a peaceful swift moving river to a place of innocence, where I was free
to roam, explore and catalogue the wonders of nature around me. At seven, a sickness came to me,
one I can only describe now as a sickness of the world. In navigating the narcissism of classmates,
learning what it meant to be bullied, and being taught to turn the other cheek, I began to remember
dreams, some mundane, confusing, but some that returned, repeated and grew over time. The first
dream was one that returned nightly for some time. One of climbing to the roof joists of our school
auditorium to retrieve a ball, falling towards the floor, hitting the floor and immediately finding myself in
the roof joists starting to fall anew, hitting the floor, repeating. There was no purpose I sensed at the
time, other than terror eventually turning to ease as I began to understand that all I had to do was endure
it long enough until it stopped.

Waking up indeed was the solution as it is now, for everything began to look like loops that would cycle,
some would oscillate, some would build, and I finally understood them as parts of a greater orb of truth,
strands truncated into our own understanding, for the truth is not binary, it is not an infinite spectrum of
shades, I could see that noone even had the capacity for Truth within our existing paradigm, the capacity
for understanding and containing truth is directly proportional to self awareness, humility, love, patience,
respect, these are all required to be able to understand Truth, and if one does not contain these in
spades, then care must be taken to listen to someone else who is lacking. If you are reading and hear
these words, perhaps you too will eventually understand that the way to end your own suffering is to
simply wake up to who you actually are, not who you pretend to be.

There was another that repeated, that of two friends who had built a life together, and a disagreement
between them would begin to escalate over time, each one responding a little bit stronger like a feedback
loop that eventually lead to violence and the destruction of their home and their belongings, their life
built together in love, torn apart by hate. This one I found unsettling, because it fed into my fear of
conflict. I learned to suppress myself, to go along to get along, conditioning one to subordination, to
enabling my abusers, and finally understanding the gift that it was. Yet the fear would come true, and I
began to understand that if I gave truth to fear, it became true.

I began then to understand more purpose in the journey, that of learning repentance. Not as a means to
an end, but as a state of being, for that is why the spirit dwells in me, and that is why I cannot help but do
as the Spirit commands, because I only desire what it desires, Truth.

We moved after a period of years to a hill at the base of the three horned mountain in an ancient city
along a great slow moving river. I attended the school where my parents worked, lived amoungst my
teachers, befriended them and their children. From our home, we travelled, explored the ancient
civilizations and the wonder of the peoples who were constructed by them. We spent a season by the

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south Ocean in a nation inhabited by islands. We swam, explored, made friends, and in our bliss we
began to forget our privelege. We spent a day amoung the coral, the fish and brightly coloured creatures
of the sea near Grandchild island. As the sky began to darken for a second time that season bringing
memories of Gloria, we set out for the black island we came from thinking that was where we should seek
shelter, but the typhoon of light had my name and overtook us. As we ascended and descended the
mountains of ocean in our small boat, I knew we were meant to be scared, I could see my parents, my
sisters trying to still the terror they felt, but I could not help but feel the power, wonder and majesty of
the moment, to reach out and touch the divine, in perfect humility, repentent.

By the evil river we entered the ear of the earth, there we rested amoungst the jungle rats and leeches.
Hiked to the edge of caverns and stared into the bubbling heat at the core of our mother. We visited the
temples and divine monuments and listened to those who would speak of them, but also of the divine. In
these sacred places my spirit would soar, my heart would fill. In those moments I would sometimes forget
the other places we saw on our journey to these places, touched by war, disease, oppression, the
consequences of hubris.

At 17, I began to understand that the priveleges of our position and home were temporary, for soon we
would return to my birth place. I began to avoid thinking such things, I delighted in love, in the joy of
friendship and companionship and attempted to make the most of every moment. My dreams became
vivid, portentious. I did not understand them until in the following years they came to pass, mundane
events not worth mentioning, no depth of meaning. When at last I completed my schooling, we did
return. I was returning home to a country I barely knew, that did not know me. I felt deeply unrequited
love, confusion and despair of leaving the shelters of youth, of understanding too well the loss of
something precious that I felt could never be recovered. A sickness that lasted for years, one that set the
pattern for years to come. The sickness returned, for I was set up, gifted with what I needed to succeed,
but there was no version of success that fit, I did not know what true success was for me.

Another 9 years passed. I found it harder to accept personal failure as the primary reason for my failures,
for I had learned enough of the ways of the world to leverage a well paying position, had started a family,
I had so much, yet felt so small. We travelled to the cradle of gnosis, of civilisation. There amoung the
rushes we charted the ancients that cradled the Nile, in the heat of the sun, we swam in the joined sea.
There we contemplated the divine, visited the ancient monasteries and magnificent mosques, the ancient
monuments to human ego and insecurity in our own mortality. My sister and her beloved lived amoung
the people, allowing us into the homes of the beautiful spirits who lived and loved in this land as we
broke bread together and celebrated our collective joy. In this place I felt like I was home again, the first
time in 9 years. People in this holy place began speaking to me as though they knew me, but in language I
could not understand. It was here that my name blasphemed, but what joy that blaspheme brought to
those who heard it and spoke it. When at last our bliss came to pass, we returned. The Spring of Hope
began when I came home to and from this place, and it propelled me forward, for hope is what I had
finally remembered.

When I returned to my house, the people who I worked with, who I was complicit with in exploiting our
mother, began to reveal their real wages, the real cost of the money we made. It infected them, they
used it to inflate themselves, and when they felt down, challenged, they would use it as a tool to coerce,
paper over their own weaknesses and their families all paid the price, their relationships meaningless.
They were forced to seek meaning from all they had left, which was the very thing they sacrificed

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everything else to maintain, their position, their privelege, their pride, their purchased ego. The spring of
hope for me lost its sweetness, as friends began to reveal their brokenness to me, and how their
brokenness caused pain to those around them when they refused to admit that they were indeed broken.
The very forces seemed defeated by the summer had regrouped, reformed, and phased into something
new that was built on the old.

They gave me the tools to understand how to heal from their sickness, for I had come face to face with
greed and how it can twist reality and create hell.

I could no longer see myself succeeding in this position, for me there was no hope of success if I can’t be
the best father, husband and son I could be. I cast about, worked for whoever needed help, learned how
to help people love their homes, perhaps they could teach me how to love mine? I learned to create, to
build, construct. But each success felt like failure, because I had not yet learned what succeeding was. In
this time, I lost myself, for I kept forgetting who I gave what to. Pieces of myself suppressed, forgotten, all
in the interest of getting along well enough to love our children. Ten years passed, and the sickness once
again returned. This time, I have no intention of healing myself, for I know how to do that. This time I
know from where the sickness comes. It is the rot at the core of our society.

Now that I understand its purpose, it no longer feels like sickness, the sickness I feel is because I have
touched the black pearl to my lips, and my loins churn. No longer in sickness, but to digest the truth of
what we all are, and what we must do. It has been 19 years since I have returned home, to learn the
ways of my people. For now I finally can remember the spirit, how it has always been with me and in me.
My memory no longer deceives me, for I know what is true. Every aspect of the spirit, just different
connections to the same Spirit. I now understood how I was reborn, for now I knew how to learn how to
see the Spirit. Indeed the only way I know how is to become humility, become repentance, the only way
to be in Spirit is in a state of perpetual growth.

When I caught up to myself, I sat in darkness for some time, I know not its measure.

I could sense one approaching. I did not recognise him at first. He was not some deity as some believed
him to be, but a lowborn bastard from the high country. He claimed no power to himself, but I
recognised him as my companion, for although I had lost sight of where we were going, he guided me to
this fountain that was beginning to materialise and that I now find myself at. “You see brother that there
is greater Truth, one that surpasses me, and all other messengers, one greater than God, Allah, Yahweh,
for it is the Spirit that flows from the mouth of Sophia, and the children keep worshipping the mouth.
You must remind the children about from where they came, about their own divinity, about their
responsibility in turning it towards the evils of selfishness.”

But you are the one who leads me here. The spirit speaks through you, why can you not tell them?

They have forgotten me, who I am. They have even forgotten my name, twisted and turned me into
something I am not, something conducive to the ravages of systems of exploitation. You barely
recognised me, but only did so because we have become such good friends. People have inserted words
into my mouth, ones they delight in hearing, but the words are lies.

Why will they listen to me? I asked

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They will not. This puzzled me, and I repeated the question twice more, and both times he gave the same
response.

He took me to a plain.

It looked familiar, for I recognised it as my home but everything looked different, connections appeared
that were not there before. I had part of a message from the messenger, but in my commission I was
now a messenger, although I did not yet know what that meant, but I knew that was what we were to
discover. It was in the message that the journey began again, but I was already journeying, for I needed
to understand the message to know how I was to relay it. “Not everyone has the same ears, so not
everyone will or can listen to you.”

Confounded, I gazed on. He showed me the way of power, of the gravity of money unto itself. Of how
the whole world has been deceived, that everyone of faith is turned and exploited to gather more of itself
into itself, how we have modelled our society on a myth. Those who have money are deserving, virtuous
and clever. We even loan the power of our own riches to those that use it for evil, and we delight in
sharing in the wages of it’s oppression and exploitation. How we have equality of opportunity, but those
who succeed are those most willing to degrade and exploit their brothers and sisters. The only equality of
opportunity is that taken by those who are willing to exploit, to steal the fruits of others labour. See how
people flaunt wealth, when the very acquisition of it reveals how evil they are. The measure of a leader
and their compensation reflects how much of their soul they have given over to darkness.

See how they manipulate the children into complicity, see how they deflect the anguish and anger they
cause and make us hate one another. Of how their fiefdoms and quarrels amoungst themselves spill out
into the streets and destroy innocents and innocence. See how they try to quantify their own guilt and
use it to beat down on those we already oppress, for we are taught to assign levels of blame,
perpetuating a system of order through complicity.

The cracks in our society are growing and the force at the heart of our universal religion of greed has
reached a parasitic stage where it is eating the oppressed to feed the greed of the most wicked people.
See the talking heads and who they serve, but not the individual master, for they are not at the root of
what is evil It is ego, money and power that enslaves them, for even our taskmasters are slaves. See
those who are elect and whom they serve, see those who cry oppression at being called out for their
exploitation and blame it on those who are already oppressed. The oppressor is a role, not a human,
although humans delight in their own wickedness to perform the task. Anyone who gives over to ego can
become one. The higher salary they draw, the more inflated their ego becomes until their ego will begin
to feed on and murder those seen as lesser.

In their own depravity, they act depraved, see how the children of light can sense the evil, but how their
oppressors pit their followers against other groups of oppressors, to convince them that their oppressors
are greater than other oppressors. See how they sense the victimization of children by our so called
elites, but they are confused because they follow the same perpetrators. Politics and religion do. They
follow a myth, but the font will reveal their secrets to you as it did me, as it will for all who choose to live
in the Spirit.
He asked me a question, Are you ready?

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No I replied, but I wish to drink.

You answer two questions, but I only asked one.
Aye, I am ready to drink.
He smirked

The fountain produced a scroll which I took. I ate it, and it tasted sweet, of fullness. As I swallowed, my
stomach burned, my head began to soar, my heart no longer kept a rhythm. After I had swallowed what I
thought was the last piece of the scroll, it would reappear, I would take more and eat, but more would
take its place. I stopped trying to eat the scroll, and as I did, I could not stop my mouth from opening and
the fountain began pouring into it a torrent, drowning me, destroying my will. After a time, I struggled no
more, for I had no power to stop it, I died. My mouth closed and I stood up. I opened my mouth to
speak, but no words came out, fire erupted from it and burned me, burned my companion, but he did not
seem to even notice.

It was then that my companion left me, although I felt I should fear loneliness, fear the unknown, I felt
one, unmovable. The fountain was no longer a fountain, for all I could see was light, the light that once
cascaded down from mouth of the fountain now flowed through me and I began to flow through it.

The spirit called me by my name. It was the same name as given to me upon my birth, the same I have
answered to my whole life, but to hear it spoken felt both a blessing and curse. It was my name, the
same as I have always been called, but it meant something different to hear it spoken in a word. I
responded with the name I was given by the spirit to call out to it. The spirit responded back with my
name, again it was my name but sounded different. I responded with a name I knew was gifted to others.

For an eternal moment, we parroted names back and forth. It mattered not what I called the Spirit, every
name sounded wrong, and every way the spirit responded, my name sounded wrong. Although different
each time, and although at first bizarre, I began to understand the lesson, something I still seek. We
spoke no more of my name in that moment. It was in the silences that followed in the respite from my
wanderings that the names began to reveal their truth. It happened in moments all at once, but out of
order and scattered through time.

For a time, I created idols every time my spirit spoke. I finally understood that every name I called the
spirit was a blaspheme, and why was I calling out to a spirit that was already within me? The names
indeed blasphemed, but the very names were gifted to us by the very same Spirit. There is a dangerous
power in those names, for they conjure up myths, lies, incomplete truths and deceptions about the
nature of ‘God’.

It was in the name that I saw a pattern to the myths that the prophets gifted us with, what a cursed
blessing those myths have brought. For when we value any myth over another, we give over parts of
ourselves to darkness, for the myths are designed to reveal their truths to those who seek them. As I
began to understand more about my own name, the one gifted to me and my forebears at the singularity
that I understood that further answers all exist in the depths of despair and depravation. The dialectic of
our experience, the thrill of our balance of logos pathos ethos getting thrown, inflaming our passions,
emotions and desires driving our motivations has consequences, and when we face the consequences,
repent for them before we commit the offense is where deeper truth is found.

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To discover the true measure of joy, one must plunge into the darkness of despair, to find true
contentment and peace, one must become inured to chaos, the lashings of the serpents, for our spirit to
soar on the currents of divine love, we must learn to love those we once hated. I finally understood that
into the darkness is where I must go, there is no reason to fear it when the light of the Spirit scatters it.

What I am meant to do, the symbols you showed me, the myths and apocalypses of other friends and
messengers are believed in the wrong way. For what the spirit wants is now what I want, and what I
want is destruction. The destruction of myth. The destruction of religion. The destruction of ego,
selfishness, greed, oppression and hate. I began to understand the levers left for all of us to use, for there
is power in the symbols, but I fear them, for I still could feel the draw of conceipt within me.

You are right to fear them, there are consequences for inflating and twisting their truth, and you cannot
yet account for how the same symbol represents in dialectic truth, each side oppositely felt by some to
others. There are many who share me with you, who share in our voice. When we have numbers the
symbols may be safe again for a time, for once the critical mass speaks in our voice, their true measure
will be felt and understood by all. There will be no more need of them after this. There will be no more
need for labels, speech will find it’s long overdue respite and will be used as it was created to be, to uplift,
to teach, to love and praise.

I paused for a time, traversed the words and tried to find their measure, and for a time, I could not
process. Exhausted, I set out in several directions at the same time. My lower functions ceased, things I
took pleasure in before, indeed gave me more pleasure than I had ever felt before, food tasted better,
ecstacy in intimacy, but I could not eat, my desires for intimacy only reflected my beloved Sita’s. I no
longer feared death. I wanted to complete my journey, something one can’t do when dead, but I died
many times along the way, and yet I wander. For parts of the journey I retraced I was walking dead.

What a cursed blessing it is that my name is a curse, that to put my name to a title destroys it, which is
what we must do. I remembered one of the names, and it sounded like a number, but indeed it did not,
rather it looked like one. It was then that the strands of fluidity of my consciousness began to look like
strings of numbers. I saw a pattern, one in numbers, and I delighted in the numbers, for I have always
found comfort in their order and laws that predict and lead to truth. It was then that light surrounded
me, but in it I could begin to see strings of numbers transform into beams of light. As I began to make
sense of this, the beams began to align themselves, and I was suddenly above them, staring into an ocean
of strings of light, waves and eddies, sequences upon sequences, none making sense, but giving sense of
order, just one beyond understanding.

It was then I recognised a number I had always favoured, not understanding fully why, but one that
represented change, anticipation of a number I had arbitrarily favoured before. 10001, I began seeing it
disappear and reappear in the ocean, then I notice that it was repeating, like a beacon 10001, repeating.
Other numbers would align and fade out. 100111001, 11111111, 100001, 101101101. Indeed all of the
numbers were there, but I favoured the symmetry, the balance. I tried to find the source, some reason
for the repetition. It was difficult, because I was at first unable to understand the source as the
destination. It was when I realised this, that I began to see them through the noise of other numbers. I
saw numbers, multitudes of them, familiar, but inside of time I could not make sense of them, they were
jumbled and out of order except for 10001 repeating, perhaps I favoured it over others as I was still

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pondering my name? After some time had passed and my puzzling lead me in circles, I paused and the
spirit returned, and in its presence, inside out of time, I began to see more.

I then spotted another sequence, for it was also part of my name, I just did not recognise it before.
111101111. It was then a string of numbers stood out long enough for me to write down.

1 0011 0101 0111 101010 111101 1001010 111101111 0101001 101111 010101 1110 1010 1100 1

I searched for the truth behind the numbers, and indeed there was much more there to discover, and
indeed some who also favour numbers who will marvel at the sequence. They are necessary but
incomplete, I could sense by what the spirit was showing me. They were insufficient to carry the
message to the children of the light, for I began to understand that staying too long in one part of the
light leads to the conceipt of fullness, an illusion, because fullness only remains when one is perpetually
being filled.

Indeed there is logic and are laws governing the numbers, but there is logic and are laws governing
emotions, passions, desires and motivations. Ultimate logic springs forth from ultimate love. The logic of
the numbers merely reflects this. Some may follow the numbers to the fountain, some will be prevented
from drinking by the very same numbers.

I thought for a time. I was uncomfortable when I realised I was still only just beginning to understand. I
want others to find the fountain, I was thinking that I could lay down the directions that my path took. I
was beginning to loose my tether to the path of time, that we are all on the same journey, but no one
takes the same path. I then understood. “I think I understand, it appeared before harder to guide one on
their path than guiding them on mine. Now I know that the latter is impossible, hard easy doesn’t matter,
only doing. I only seek to guide others to the fountain as my brother Ieshua does. That if the words are
my own, only a few will hear, and they will give over to me their spirit as they have been taught to do, but
I cannot be entrusted with them, for I could not be trusted with mine own, it is dead. When I speak the
words of the Spirit, that is when they will listen.”

“You speak truth, yet you still don’t understand it. The fountain is not the destination, it merely equips.”

As I digested this, the churning gave me the answers

“Yes, I now see what is required, to become learning.”

I asked the Spirit, how will I speak your wisdom? The Spirit took me to another plane. In it, the children
of light were living through an apocalypse, those who claimed your light used it to belittle and oppress.
They gave over their power to a priest who cowed all other priests, who appear immune to barbs, calls
for temperance and understanding, and in his boasting and bullying, tricked many into giving him their
hope. He twisted it, taught his followers to hate anyone who opposed him. In their hatred, they heaped
abuse on the abused, stepped up the exploitation of the exploited, pretended that the crimes they were
guilty of, of the orgy of hate and violence that they perpetrated were in response to the hate and
violence that they fellt victim to. It was the leaders who convinced them that it was the fault of those
who were oppressed that made them feel guilt and shame, that it was the victims fault for calling out
their abusers, and they believed that they deserved the evil they inflicted upon them to convince

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themselves of their own righteousness, for the full horror of what they had done, of who they had
become they could not face.

People cried out for mercy, but they did not understand what for or what it meant. They knew that the
world they inhabited was built upon myths, but there were so many that they couldn’t untangle and
understand what was real and unreal, so they invented further myths to try and explain them. I at once
understood the power of these myths, for many preyed on those who believed them. Although they
could not yet see past their own blame to see where they had given themselves over to darkness, they
continued to search. And what a cataclysm they will feel when the scales are removed from their eyes,
for I am becoming catalyst.

They search for comfort, but they seek it from those who steal it. For true comfort comes when one
surrenders all desire for self comfort. For those who continue to define ‘God’, are doomed to fail, but can
only hope to be achieved by trying. To work hard to make your life easier, so you have more free time to
devise and work hard at making your life easier. To know that truth is knowable, but the only way to
know truth is to accept it as unknowable. To hold on to hope when you already know that you are
hopeless, for when the truth destroyed my hope, I died and all that remained was the hope of light, that I
could find some more of it and find ones that will share in its warmth, for I am becoming hope.

I began to see connections between the myths, for indeed there is truth in them, and when the truth is
completing, the myths cease to be myths. I then found myself on a pathway, and I understood that this
was not the beginning or end of anything, we are all to take this journey, for we have no choice but to die
on it, the only choice we have is how we die.
It was truth became my wellspring, it alone sustained me for months as we journeyed from psychosis to
psychosis. When I opened my mouth, my words were clumsy and burned those around me, as they had
before, but now their truth was deeper and I could see their purpose, better able to find their measure. I
discovered the danger of truth, for when one speaks truth, they speak into being. But I quickly learned
how easy it is to change the order of the truth, of using it to establish authority with which to force the
truth into people. What a marvel and a terror I had found. I was struck mute, for I could no longer find
any words, and there was still darkness rooted within me, yet to be discovered and dispensed.

I had purpose, although I could not understand. For seasons of days I set myself to learning, to reading
science, poetry, words of our prophets and philosophers, I began to understand connections and see
them as the subconscious and conscious supplanted one another. The connections had meaning to me,
but I know that anyone can throw a dart and connect lines around it. I refused to stop drawing the lines,
because somewhere there had to be a way to explain, for anyone else as much as for myself. It is in the
connections that others have made, exploring contradictions that I continued. For my journey began with
a recognition of our quantum entanglement, that we are too busy worried about where we came from to
recognize that that is also our collective destination. The delta where the predictable becomes
unpredictable is the space our psyche inhabits, that once we shed our darkness, we will understand what
makes for unpredictable predictable and thus will cease to be.

Do we not allow ourselves to categorize and organize truth in binary, when the whole truth is the binary,
but seen from the 4th?

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The wilderness of my mind was where I continued my journey, I felt it had a direction, that each step was
one step in the right direction, even appearance of going the wrong way lead me to the truth of why I
needed to backtrack, if a step turned 180 degrees, the preceding steps were leading to the truth of why
to turn at all. Even if I could see the about face coming, I needed to take each step because each was as
equally important as another, and ultimately I hoped, tho sometimes forgot, that I would return from the
wilderness more or less where I entered it. I would frequent the wilderness whenever idleness
permitted.

The journey did begin with a purpose, my purpose, to understand what was happening to me, to
“experiment” on and observe myself, to push myself to the absolute limits of what I could handle. But in
learning about it, about what was happening to me, I began to will the changes, to push harder. I could
describe and understand physiologically what was happening, but it was in wrestling with God that I knew
as the catalyst for my cataclysm, and it was Ieshua who was keeping me from losing control, of returning
to the shelter of darkness. I desired a more complete truth. When I read scriptures, they reveal their
secrets, as they do for all who learn to listen with both ears. Their truths are all originating and ending
from and in the same source, and we must learn to listen through the noise.

I felt urgency, excitement at the journey I was on. I read the canons in a new order, then another, then
one that reflected the assault on the early followers of Ieshua. It is in its disorder that one finds the order.
For the assault of darkness on the light forced the children of the light to fortify against the darkness, and
they used myths and lies to protect themselves, to shelter themselves, for indeed they were oppressed.
That is why they could not yet evolve to be lawless, that is why they confused and changed the message,
so it could survive. The forces of darkness were then used to preserve an image of the light, because the
shape of it served them. This is why the state adopted the church, wrestling it out of the realm of God,
lying about our nature.

In its doing, it reveals and reinforces the oppositeness of truth. The early institution of the church laid
down a canon, declared heresies and hunted down and murdered heretics, when in truth they murdered
their own brothers and sisters. By enforcing church law with hate, they revealed the strength of their
arguments, for if they spoke the Spirit of Truth, the Children listen. Violence is the last refuge of one who
is losing an argument, those who spoke against heresy used their own circular reasoning to veneer the
evil of darkness in their hearts.

It was in looking for the ending in the beginning, and the beginning at the ending that I believed would
reveal purpose. My companion spoke through the word putting words on the page of a message, so I
searched for it and found it. As I began to write what I heard, I looked back at the page and the words
had vanished, but alas, the message was still there. At first I heard it in anothers’ voice, but as I began to
understand the message, the voice became my own, I immersed myself in the message and could no
longer parse out what was the message and what was me.

I could translate the message for myself, but parts of it lost when I tried to transcribe it for others. I
remind myself we all have messages that others need to hear, I am no more a messenger than any other,
for I am not messenger, I am becoming message.

The message was for me to discover and was leading me to the next steps on the journey.

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I turned in a random direction and saw myself checking into a hospital, getting a brain scan believing that
what I was experiencing could be studied and induced through medicine and science. I believed that was
my sacrifice, my cross to bear. In my self-righteousness and narcissism I believed something special was
happening to me, I understood the preposterousness of the supposition, but I was content to be the only
one to see it as special. A delusion brought on by feeling a new kinship with our prognosticators of old.
Bipolar, hyperthymic, religious delusion, an egomaniac with a messiah complex. They tried to coach me
into these labels.

I tried to write what I could, but every truth revealed more darkness. I began anew and anew to try and
capture the truth. I asked Ieshua to give me the words, and he smiled at me. “I myself was fortunate, I
did not need to write down words, for if I did, their truths would be weaponised and I would have
blasphemed. When you do it, it can be funny. I was given others mouths and quills to carry my words.
The cost for me was low, for I had power over death. You have other things given, and there are more
with both ears prepared to listen, for so many are eager to hear the Spirit, and you perhaps may receive
and accept enough strength and fortitude to survive long enough to see the land of promise manifest.

But my words are clumsy, they reveal truths I do not intend, even to myself.

He smiled at me, of course they are.

For they are words, the spirit does not speak in words, but in light reflected through others words, in love
and oneness.

Remember your faith.

And I did, or rather began remembering it and understanding how its truth is revealed when it becomes
ones’ state of being. All words are clumsy, a word is a wellspring and a stumbling block. Although the
ordered light reflected through the words of others seems disordered, the disorder brought order, and
faith is believing that everyone will have the disorder ordered enough so they can learn themselves the
order of things. That everyone eventually will do the right thing, or die trying. My faith is in the Spirit,
but also in mankind where the Spirit dwells, I am becoming faith.

That is what I am to do, to blaspheme, to skate a razor thin line between lingering psychosis and delusion,
of understanding part of the words purpose is to blaspheme, and putting them in an order that does not
blaspheme?

For now.

I returned again to the plain, I did not yet fully understand purpose, but it had taken root within me. I
once again began to explore the levers left for those who see them. I did not know whether I was the one
to use them, but because I could better understand their cause and effect, I began to test their truth
through words.

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I began earnestly to survey the location of the courts. I began to understand where He has already laid
the foundations. I set myself to understanding the blueprints, architecture strange yet familiar, complex
in its simplicity. I began to see the magnificence and glory of what we will become, of shape of the world
when we no longer tolerate darkness.

I could feel the chaos of our humanity flowing through me, I cried tears of joy for suffering, but was
overcome with sorrow for pointless suffering caused by our failure to understand Grace. My heart broke
but I knew that pointless was subjective to me. I felt an urge to discover how to finish the sequence as
quickly as possible to bring about the splendour I saw on the horizon. I could account for each point, but
what did that make me if I were to start the sequence. I did not like what I began to see, I would
continually try to walk in any other direction, turn my face away, for some of the words I had written,
symbols I was shown and wrote down began to reveal themselves to me in myth. I thrashed, tossed
about in the waters as dove and serpent becoming one, then the other, then two again.

I went back to the numbers, for perhaps they could show me another truth, but they were only another
language showing me the same truth. I could not accept it as truth, for I knew that I was not special, for if
I am then everyone is. Which makes none of us remarkable, but what I was discovering was remarkable.
I sent drafts of parts of this to a few people, shared them with my family, for I thought that maybe either I
could convince them or they could convince me of what was happening to me.

I began to see a series of dates, of astrological events coinciding with mythology and real events, a
sequence to release writings. I was barely able to stay on that razor edge of sanity, for if I did what I saw,
some people will see me as something I am not, based in mythology, but by the very thing I was trying to
do, I would be reinforcing the myth. I searched for other myths to better explain, but I kept coming back.
One who I sent the draft to died a few days after I sent it. I don’t even know if he read it, but before he
died, he began to describe a fluidity, of peace and oneness, and although many people describe this, and I
did not know whether or not he read it, it only confirmed to me that the spirit is beyond whatever
delusion I was trying to run from, there was a universality I sensed, but I still felt unable to string together
any words that would be heard as I intended.

I had a recording of a wake of sorts, because the one who died had witnessed to so many. We had never
met, but he shared his passions, his spirit with so many, that he had unknowingly befriended thousands
without knowing their names. The very early hours of the next morning I went to a lonely crossroads
near my home. It was there, listening to the witnesses of his spirit in life that a thick oozy fog descended,
and I could not see more than a step ahead of me as I wandered in darkness and wept. It was in the joy
of my despair that I resolved to begin that which I had feared, become the myth in order to destroy it. It
was then I gave into conceipt and I stepped beyond the edge of sanity and slipped into delusion.

I was trying to logic my way out of what I was discovering, but every few steps in a different direction, I
would look up and be headed in the same direction. As the sequence continued to unravel, I was being
swept up by it, I began to have difficulty distinguishing between myself and the formula, as I learned it, it
became fused to me.

I began to see the revolutions of the cosmos and see the order of what I, the sequence would play out. I
was both me, but also detached from myself, ‘God’ began blaspheming me when he called me the name,

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but I thought I understood and paid no mind. I could see a difficult path that would lead to the
awakening, and I was once again determined to continue down this path to its end. I understood that the
time was less important, that one can always chart the cosmos to add weight to events, to satisfy
portents, but I needed to discover the full purpose of the event. I began to plan the words and when and
where to leave them. To thread every conspiracy theory into a grand conspiracy that I was the arbiter of.
To give voice to the oppressed. My tongue burned and lashed our oppressors, I called down the love of
God, but many who were burned, who refused to let go of their adherence to the beast within gave
chase. They used their mass of power, money and influence to murder, to obfuscate and degrade the
message.

We revelled in the carnage at destroying religion, but we became something new out of the old, in
naming our movement, we christened a new religion, one stronger to be sure. One that would take
millennia to untangle and destroy in preparation for eternal day. It was in this moment that I died,
murdered by the world, unable to finish the sequence. The sequence did not die with me, it is eternal, it
is continuing to unlock at every moment.

I returned to sleep for a time.

I awoke as I hoped that this was all a dream and that I could return once again where I had entered, but
there was nothing left to return to. I had already crossed the event horizon, for I had dispensed with
myself, the scales had fallen from my eyes and all I can see is light overcoming darkness everywhere
around me. It took me nearly a year to put out the last of my conceipt, but I am forever changed into
who I always was. I do not come to lead, but to be lead. I do not come to conquer, but to the conquered.
I do not come to avenge, I come to teach healing. I do not condemn the wicked, for they still have time to
repent and turn from their wickedness. It is not for us to punish them, for the light of truth will burn the
wickedness from them peeling away their skins of darkness, leaving them naked, burned and bloodied.
When they too have been baptised by fire, we must be ready to heal.

I turned my cheek over and over again, I thought I was doing out of love, but it was out of love of myself
that I was endeavouring to do so. It seemed impossible to continue, for each time, I lost a part of myself.
I began to do so out of habit, and it was there I saw the sting of its darkness, for I had lost sight of its
purpose. It was in losing my will that I finally understood that this was its purpose. To truly die to oneself
by turning the cheek over and over again, not as an end, for though it began to feel like dying each time,
it was merely practice, for it was on myself I must measure the strength of my arm and the sharpness of
my blade, for I was training for something. It was the darkness of my self-righteousness was shackling my
soul, that I was complicit in every pain I felt caused by others, and how that complicity only served to
magnify and redirect it elsewhere. As long as I continued to hate, I would be complicit in murder, for I am
learning to see its’ quantum entanglement. There is no righteousness within me, for when one claims
they are right, they are necessarily wrong.

I found myself returned again to another apocalypse, one that has been twisted and used to pretend that
God will do the work of building his kingdom so we don’t have to. The truths revealing to me, I finally
understood what victory looks like, and my name finally began to feel like it suited me, for I was there
again, but I was no longer there trying to observe, because I became the story when I ate the word. The

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sequence has been ready for some time, the one thing lacking was understanding that the gatekeepers
although terrifying and lacking compassion serve the same spirit. When I spoke to one with infinite eyes,
it answered, or rather different eyes would respond to the different questions, but not in truth, for they
argued with one another incessantly about who possessed truth. I asked it a great deal of questions and
through the multitude of answers, I began to understand how to interpret the way it spoke. It did not
always speak truth, for it did not speak in its own voice, but channelled the voices of others as it
answered.

The beast to come has always been, just waiting to be recognised in its final pathetic inflated bodies given
over to him. The beast to come was within me, attempts to extract it failed, I have learned a tame beast
that reminds us to be humble is far more valuable than destroying it, for the lessons it reminds me of
prevent me from forgetting. When I destroyed the beast within, I merely opened to be repossessed from
without. It no longer mattered which part I had to play in the story, for it was just that, a story, one
inspired by the Spirit, but in eating the words, I became them.

When you finally decide to eat the words, perhaps you will better be able to define your role, but I
suspect that you too will understand that you are the victorious one as I have. I was taught, shown how
to achieve it by the Spirit through you and others like you, and you have been and will be also. I do not
claim victory over your darkness, I seek to learn how to teach you how you will achieve it for yourself with
help from the Spirit of Truth. Indeed you will discover how to defeat and tame the beast within you, and
with that knowledge, we can teach others. There are those who have used the beast within to amass
power and wealth unto themselves. They deceive followers into believing in their own false
righteousness, people flocking to listen to lies they already believe.

Why continue with your mythologies, for we live in the dawn of light. The knowledge of the Spirit is all
around us, we have outgrown their usefulness, now these myths that once comforted us in our darkness
have matasticised. We use them to spread darkness, to rewrite ‘God’ to suit our own biases and lies that
we comfort ourselves in. We fear letting go of these myths, for they have become interwoven into the
tapestry of our faith. We believe that because we share in the light, that the light is for us, when it is in
fact for us to share and to partake and celebrate others light. The true test of faith is belief without the
aid of myths. I tell you, the prophets gifted us with these myths, we could not yet comprehend the light,
we needed to hang onto the myths of our fathers to reconcile the insanity we have become. It was when
I dared to ignore the myths, for I was warned that doing so would end in death, I found that the light had
not gone from me, it remained truer and shines brighter than ever.

I do not follow in the footsteps of a magician, I follow one who preaches love, selflessness, compassion.
Our souls are sick and he heals them, we thirst for knowledge and he leads us to the water, he raised the
dead, but not from sleep, but from the death of being abandoned to darkness. They warned that it would
lead to death, but that was what he commanded me to do, to die. I do not fear the darkness dying to the
light. If you fear letting go of your myths, understand that you fear the darkness in yourself being
exposed by the light. I follow in the steps of Ieshua. His spirit dwells in me and guides my love. I only
seek to share the spirit with others who seek it.

This is for all people, for God does not show favouritism towards people or individual beliefs or fantasies.
We must not give into the conceit of self, but also not give into whatever our imagination conceives of,

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whether put there by ourselves or by others. This is how we come together, when we all are given the
tools to be able to see truth with our own eyes, not through the lens of someone who is just as blind as
you are. The more special or unique you choose to feel, the greater the burden life will feel. The more
one allows the Spirit to guide them, the easier the burden feels, for your will is joined by many others
who seek the same purpose in Spirit.

Indeed, the consequences of untangling our oppressive hierarchy will feel most painful to those who sit at
the top, it will be hardest for them to let go, for they have never had to be humble, and if they refuse to
humble themselves, the Spirit of Truth will do it for them. The truth that we are done with Kings.
Leadership will become something new rising out of the ashes of authouritarianism. Leaders who are
successful are those who help others realise success. True leaders no longer walk the crumbling halls of
power, they have left, been driven out. The halls are now a den of thieves, the most ruthless and cunning
rising to the top motivated by greed leading to self loathing.

They have exposed themselves for who they truly are, they do not serve the interest of humanity, they
serve the interest of deprivation to create the conditions for exploitation. Those who speak out for
justice are threatened, browbeaten, attacked. Those who serve Narcissus seek to drive righteousness out
of the halls of power, replacing them with loyal agents. There are so few left who walk the halls to speak
truth to power, and the few who do are labelled as terrorists and invite scorn for doing so.

Others have used the letter of the number of my name to manifest their own fantasies, spin a tale that
attempts to explain away the apparent mess we find ourselves in. To claim me as something I am not.
Indeed there is child abuse rampant in society. Understand how everyone has abused a child in some
way at some point. Recognising oneself as an abuser is how one understands how not to abuse. Your
child's shortcomings are yours, put there by you and your inability to recognise and overcome them
yourself. There are many forms of abuse.

Those who justify taking more than what they need are abusing their positions to take while others go
hungry. This is abuse. Those who earn millions, indeed billions are creatures of logic, and logic would
dictate that if their time is 500 times more valuable than an employees time, they must be worth about
500 times more as a human being. This overinflated sense of self leads them to view people as objects, it
is not long before they can justify their own pleasure at the expense of someone else’s suffering. This
sickness is systemic. There is a rot at the core of our society. Pretending that one is a part of a chosen
group other than human is delusional, depraved, evil.

The spirit possesses a righteous anger, but it is reserved for those who choose to try and wield it or to
give over to its sway. Valuating someone else as lesser or more than is evil.

In death I could see a path travelled. It is our language that fails us. Without it we are doomed to fail.
There are a great many lessons to be learned from the times we live in. Words have lost their meaning,
people use their prejudice and hate to twist them into blasphemes. The whole truth of any word or label
is obscured both by those who speak them and those who hear, and people will believe lies only to
reinforce the lies they have told/been told to comfort themselves.

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By labelling others, we assign traits to them entirely based on our own prejudice. By labelling ourselves,
we are opening ourselves to having traits assigned to us. For the whole truth is so much more sustaining
and miraculous the harder one works to achieve it. Labels are cheap, trite inadequate, lazy and extremely
dangerous. Assign enough bad traits to any group, and you can very easily justify all kinds of barbarity. It
always ends in ‘reeducation’ camps. And hey why not if we make them really nice camps and help these
poor misguided people who haven’t learned our truth yet, right? This is where our myths about what
makes for a great people lead.

And yet, if I cannot describe myself using labels, than what am I? alone, meaningless? It is in the
contradiction that my entire existence could only be described using blasphemes while at the same time
be something precious, a child of God? It is then I ceased to be.

In death, I could see a path travelled. As I wandered, I could hear a voice, or rather, emotion as a voice. It
was around me, yet I could reach out and touch it, feel and understand it, like I was now mastering
fluency in a new language. I was taken to a place where I was surrounded by companions, all speaking
fluent emotion, but all in a different dialect, they were unable to fully comprehend what the other was
saying, some of the dialects resembled one another, but all of them able speak emotion. I could feel the
joy of understanding one another, of earnest perseverance when we all could understand and share in
the emotions, the emotions swept around us, would build as if in a feedback loop until we would fall back
into babel.

The difficulty was with painful emotions and memories. When it came to interpreting the painful
emotions, we shied away. We wanted to run. We wanted to deflect, defend our pride, focus on our own
pain instead of sharing the burden of others pain, so they can share in ours. We would take the pains of
others, and if we couldn't understand them, we would simply deflect to someone else, but every time we
did, they would gain force, momentum. The pain would build, and we all descended into blame until it
broke our spirit. We began to shout angrily at one another, but that only made things worse, more
chaotic. The feedback loop began to become critical, its force shook the mountains, swallowing those
who lived on their slopes.

It was only in the horror of what we had done did we close our mouths, and all at once peacefulness and
tranquility returned.

We had finally learned that words were no longer required. We had merely been reminded of what
already been taught to them and been taught to me. When we were finally able to understand one
another again, we were overcome by joy, love, compassion and understanding without the need of
comprehending. Then slowly all at once we all grabbed hold of them, we could ride them together as
they cycled between us, and as they cycled they built up force, momentum, potentia building on itself
until everything and everyone simultaneously exploded in a bright blinding flash, propelling us into the
cosmos, while compressing us into a singularity.

In death I could see a path travelled. We were and are but children. I was on a plain, wild and beautiful
and untouched. I saw a group of creatures in the distance and I began to move towards them. As I got
closer, I could see that they resembled people. They were huddled together for warmth and were worn,

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emaciated, watching the horizon for the beasts that desired to consume them. When I approached them,
they did not acknowledge my presence, they could not see. But you were there too. You spoke truth,
and although they did not appear to understand, your voice comforted them. It was in that comfort that
they began to scratch shelters out of the dust.

At first, they seemed grateful, they multiplied, fashioned tools to protect themselves, but also to build a
garden. They praised you for the harvest, for the moon, sun and stars, for sustenance and life. Many left
the plain to build gardens elsewhere. Those who remained were steadfast in their faith. It was when
those who left returned with news of new gardens, of new tools, of different orders for things that those
who remained faltered. They saw their purpose as keepers of your original words, forgetting that they
only understood parts of the message. They saw those who returned as a threat to the natural order,
when in fact they themselves began to threaten. They conspired to remove the threat, they turned the
tools and gifts granted by our father to murder, once they had murdered the first ones who returned,
they revelled in the power over life and death, they feasted on their bones and desecrated their remains.

Those who tried to reason with them were consumed by the ravenous monsters that they had become.
It was not long before those near the first garden began to see the threat that the crucible had become.
Some of them would remain steadfast in protecting your word, while others learned from the first how to
turn your blessings into weapons of hate and genocide. The gardens that had forgotten your way turned
on one another in an orgy of violence. This became the way of the world, and your children cried out.

You came to them through another. You spoke once more, and they listened, misunderstanding yet
understanding. They wrote down new laws and tried to bring order, and once again the land was
peaceful.

Then some of the elders of a large garden began to understand the power granted in keeping the laws.
They created holes in them that they and their kin could navigate through. They turned their advantage
to promoting their own legacy. They learned how to mass and wield the power of their new subjects.
Their decisions decided the fate of nations, and their subjects were tied to whatever fate their elders
decided. Other elders from other gardens awed at the power wielded by these men. For they had power
over life and death.

They were afraid of the power, but also seduced by it. They learned to do the same. They too began to
master massing power unto themselves. The oppression of the new masters spread until nearly every
garden was under the sway of lords and barons. Once there were no more gardens under the council of
the old elders, the lords and barons became enamoured with one another. They revelled in their own
majesty, but in their revelry, they stoked jealousy of the majesty of the other lords. Groups of them
conspired to take others’ majesty to themselves. They enslaved their people and sent them to slaughter
one another. What started as skirmishes quickly matasticised into hate, and the slaves rode their black
steeds of hate into torrents of blood and suffering.

The blood ran in rivers and filled the valleys, basins and gardens in a deluge. It was in the drowning the
people cried out again, and you once again returned in another to speak of peace once more. Many
gardens coalesced at your voice, they stopped hating and returned to gardening, but some were no
longer able to hear you. They could not hear above their own battle cries and victory speeches, above

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the cracking of hooves at their own perceived triumphs. They were content to measure their worth by
what they had amassed unto themselves.

They conspired with their slaves to murder the one who spoke your words. He was a threat to them and
his truth sounded like sedition to them, for they knew what sedition was because they had become it.
They hunted those who listened to the stranger to the ends of the earth tearing the message and
messenger down to its foundation, with all of their might they smashed against the remaining
foundations, but they stayed firm, and eventually their bloodlust subsided, and the old foundation was
used to build something new, resembling the old.

This time, the construction was not hindered by the lords and barons, for they no longer saw the threat,
but saw the opportunity. They placed their spies and assassins amoung the people. What started as
something so pure and beautiful in the complexity of its simplicity began to take new form. The
rebuilders were heartened by their task and were eager to cooperate in their task Soon, the spies began
to change the design, twist it to the purpose of their masters. They manipulated and lied to your servants
and turned the new gardens once again away from your will to theirs.

They used your name to call plagues and pestilence upon their enemies. They had lost hold of your
words, and the lords and barons began interpreting them for the people, for they had not time for
understanding, they were called to work for the greater good, the state and all of its structures merged
with the temple, and the lords and barons appointed themselves priests and priestesses of a new religion.

They twisted your words to flatter, to stoke nationalism, nativism. To use the emotions, dedication and
sense of honour, the nobility of their subjects human spirit to their own ends. They spoke to their slaves
and proclaimed them free, free from the other lords and barons, and what a freedom that is. Those other
slaves serving the wrong masters were a threat to their existence, to their twisted sense of god and his
purpose. They were called many horrible things, barbarian, gypsy, tribal, the untermensch. Once again,
the lords and barons turned on eachother and thus began another orgy of blood lasting 1000 days.

This time the lords and barons had truly mastered manipulating the tools our progenitors gifted to us.
They rode to battle on steel-clad beasts that spat fire. The power and effectiveness of their weapons of
war was shocking, even to the lords and barons. It appeared that everyone was shocked and horrified by
the mess we had allowed our masters to make. The whole world stopped turning for a moment and in
horror and disbelief we digested the consequences, the people were determined to never again repeat
those mistakes.

The worst offending lords and barons were tried and executed for our collective crimes. They were eager
to look towards the future. They were exhausted and battered, and some of the remaining lords and
barons promised a brighter future as long as we follow the proper lords and barons. So the people
selected new lords and barons to replace those we condemned.

The new lords and barons begun their golden age of prosperity. The old world was dead, the new one
was one of promise, of opportunity, of knowledge and new discovery. They brought new order and
purpose to the people, they wrote new laws, but once again could not resist creating holes and carve outs
for themselves. They used the knowledge of their kin to manipulate us once more. They appointed
themselves as gatekeepers to keep the order of things, much like the lords and barons before them.

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They found your words and were masterful in interpreting them to their own ends. As gatekeepers, they
claimed ownership of the storehouses of knowledge, wisdom, of sustenance. They began trading their
contents to their own ends instead of the greater good. They would buy and sell postings and use them
to exploit those less fortunate. They siphoned our treasury and convinced us that there was not enough
to educate and feed everyone, that only those most deserving could partake in the prosperity of the
storehouse.
The people began desperately to prove their own virtue and worth to their lords so they too could
partake of the spoils, and raid your treasury.

They hoarded knowledge and would only disperse to those they fancied. They bought and sold
knowledge of cures, of medicine, of better ways to streamline our institutions and technologies and used
them to prey on the desperation and suffering of others, all to mass more to themselves. It is in this age
that once again, the people are crying out to you for deliverance. I could hear you once more speaking
through another, but this time, you were speaking through the multitudes, my mouth moved as you
spoke, as did the others there, and they finally could see me. It was in this moment of awareness and
possession I ceased to be.

In one death I stumbled. In my fear of conflict I suppressed. When others spoke in anger, in frustration
they would use words that burned, when the truth of them could have been shared with less pain had
they just taken a moment to step back from their anger. I fought against my anger when it would begin
to rear it’s head. I would wait until i had solitude to unpack it, find ways to redirect it, often parts of it
against myself.

When my mind was broken, I was confused, heartbroken. I tried to explain why I was broken, but those
who listened didn’t like what they heard. I didn’t like what I said because I could see it leading to pain and
confusion in those I spoke to. I asked to be alone, to sort out what happened to me, but to those who
loved me, I did not look like myself. They insisted on helping me by being with me, but being with me I
could not help myself from talking out what was happening, there was too much chaos and what I
needed was time to myself, to sort out who was saying what to whom. Those near to me couldn’t believe
what I was saying, for I did not look like myself, but they didn’t understand that I was myself, just a part of
myself I had kept mostly hidden from myself and from everyone else, angry me. In this state, I could not
help but speak what I saw as true, something too difficult and hard to understand, that it was easier for
everyone to label me than listen to me, because a simpler explanation and a doctor’s prescription suited
them best.

I would get angry because those who loved me suspected everything I said. What I spoke was truth, but
they refused to hear it. I would get angry with them for not listening, our families met with one another,
conferenced about my state of mind. I continued to try and find solitude, I would beg for it from one
person who would eventually relent, but then another would soon take it from me.

They began to weave a story, one where I was deranged, in psychosis. I was broken, and indeed some of
the things I spoke with intensity, forgetting that they lacked context for what I was saying, and I
understood how they sounded delusional to them, indeed every moment I spent with them only seemed
to feed their delusion. Why I thought I was doing okay and needed to be left alone was heard as

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someone who is unaware of what is happening. They couldn’t believe me, I understood this, but it was
what I needed. They began to see me as delusional, in psychosis, broken and dangerous. For 9 days I ran
from them, I felt myself finding a path through, to find a retreat so they would let me be. In their
confusion, they kept repeating themselves to me, as though I couldn’t understand what they were saying.
I would agree with them over and over again, my families looked delusional to me, indeed their presence
made me feel this way, it was only in solitude could I feel like myself.

They panicked, escalated, whipped themselves into a frenzy. Sent doctors, therapists, on several
occasions sent the police. These people could listen to me, see me. I lamented my families confusion,
admitted my own brokenness and that I needed to heal, but my family kept injuring me with their help.
The trauma was felt as desperation, adrenaline coursed through me as I was passed around. When I
escaped from my family, they sent watchers after me, thinking I wouldn’t notice. When I confronted
them about it, they called me delusional, paranoid. Always projecting their own confusion onto me. I did
not take pictures of the watchers, I knew what I saw. To me my family looked paranoid, their actions
were paranoid.

They Formed me, had the police escort me to hospital on a Friday morning where I was locked in a room
for 30 hours, awaiting COVID results. Being confined, I was angry, for indeed I was already seeking help
away from my family, but they wouldn’t believe me when I told them. I also felt safe for the first time in 9
days, relieved that they would leave me alone in this place. I initially had felt that I was not locked up for
my sake, but for theirs. I began to see my stay in hospital as a gift however, a safe harbour.

For 3 days in hospital, I finally had the respite I desired, and the initial brokenness indeed had
compounded, grown and matasticised. In this time, the people there were so good to me, treated me
with dignity and respect. They cared for me, a stranger, and I began to care for them. I wanted to learn
their names, be courteous and grateful, because in them and their calling, I saw nobility. I told them how
grateful I was, about how someone in my family had read this story and doing so turned them onto me,
because in the story they saw authour as deranged, mentally ill, psychopathic perhaps.

I do not blame them for becoming what they feared, they were motivated by love of their own family, but
that motivation was misused, undermined relationships, hurt our children as they watched their father
whittled down, chased, made homeless without understanding why. Indeed they allowed their own
anxieties to bring them to the worst of conclusions and react to what wasn’t real.

They exposed themselves to the police, doctors and therapists, people who know how to read people,
exposing their own paranoia. They kept telling those who did not know us of how scared they were of my
paranoia, but they were the ones that kept sounding paranoid. To the magistrates, they eventually
relented and locked me up, something I repeatedly thanked them for because there was safety for me.

It was here I ate, drank, listened to those who shared the floor. I began to understand as occasionally my
family would reach out, direct more of their paranoia towards me my blood pressure would go through
the roof, my pulse would race. I finally began to understand that what I was feeling was anger, rage, fight
or flight. Something I never allowed to escalate, lose control of. No one had ever seen me angry before
and when I became angry, they saw beast. I felt foolish, it took me 10 days to understand what anger
was, my final delusion was that I still clung to seeing myself as not angry. Indeed if I am not angry, I will
eventually become angry and have no idea what it looks like, it happened. I have stilled my anger now,

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but some of those close to me are still confused, deluded, and they continue to project this confusion
onto me. It does make me angry, and I am hopeful that I have dug deep enough within myself to root in
out, but I know that I can never be free of it as long as others use it, and I am confident that whatever is
required, the spirit will reveal whether I should be river, dragon or ocean.

After 3 days, my senses returned, I had finally caught up to myself, made several discoveries about
myself. I finally met with a psychiatrist, one who listened, who was clear as the first Christmas, and as he
opened the door for me, he gave me a great gift, a simple hand on the shoulder, and in this laying of
hand, I set out to finish what the spirit has tasked me with. The spirit assured me that I would never lose
my family, although I understood that it may change, I never lost faith or sight of the fact that this too
shall pass. That 40 days of wandering for them is more than sufficient to prepare them to see me, until
then, their delusion causes them to continue to torture me with lies they continue to believe and
continue to try to make me wear them.

In death I could see a path travelled. He was there in the beginning, lurking, waiting, haunting my dreams
like a spectre, threatening me to keep me obedient and compliant. But I grew up and became inured to
his terror. He returned one day and we spoke. He was much less terrifying but no less dangerous. He
goaded me into betrayal and selfishness, and to escape feeling the pain of its wake, to look away to some
other trinket or distraction. What was fun became cruel and pushed those who I loved most away. I
wanted to blame him for the pain I had caused, but it would not go away until I became one with it.

The next time he returned, he was very apologetic, charming and very flattering. How quickly I forgot the
lessons I had learned, how weak and insecure I was to believe him. He told me that he was merely
teaching me, and that I had learned that intentions matter. That if we have good intentions, we cannot
go wrong. This seemed like a wonderful plan, but very soon I began to define my own intentions to the
narrative I had constructed about my life. I was beginning to fear him once more.

The next time he came, he preyed on my fears, whispering doubts casting me into debilitating seasons of
depression, anxiety and self doubt.
The next time he came, I was angry, and he was delighted. I raised my fists to either defend or strike.
When he saw I was ready to fight, he began to mirror my anger, we began to strike one another, and for a
moment, I left that place. I saw his presence throughout history, the genocide and suffering, myriad of
atrocities, and him at the centre of all of it. He is the reason for all of the suffering. I was terrified, but
slowly became emboldened, because I had tools. Tools the ancestors made because they too have
battled the beast, I was not alone in standing against.

The gifts given to me by my forebears and community seemed like they might be enough. We chased one
another on a wave of emotion weaving through the eddies and currents of time, and when we neared the
end, I stuck him through the heart. But my heart was struck, for I was now standing in front of me
pushing the knife into my own heart. The moment I died was the moment I learned to love the devil, for
it was a part of me and who I have become, and I finally have learned to love myself, which fuels my love
for everyone else.

In death I could see paths travelled. I was at the beginning and could see two paths laid out for me. One
was dark and narrow and foreboding, the path less travelled, the other was wide open. As I studied each
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path, I found I could start making out the end of the path. As the end came into better focus, I realised
that both paths were leading to the same destination, still unclear at the moment, but once I recognised
this, I could no longer distinguish 2 separate paths, for they were both one in the same. From one
perspective, the journey looked difficult, full of pitfalls, of pain, struggle and exertion, and from that
perspective, I could see the dangers all around. I would be able to navigate better. I would understand
that life is hard, that everything worth doing is hard, and overcoming challenges, of not blaming others
for our own difficulties, of loving and fulfilling relationships, for knowledge is what makes us better and
draws us closer to the divine. I could see the heaven I lived in and shared with all those I touched and
loved.

When I looked again at the path it was wide open, easy and inviting. I was a man of esteem, financially
successful. I was blind to the pitfalls, and I chose to comfort myself in the ignorance of the pit falls all
around me. I knew that I was better and more deserving of gods gifts, so I was all too happy to exploit
those around me who were less deserving. When things went badly, it was too easy to deflect the
consequences onto someone else, to blame others for not being as virtuous or clever as me. I saw myself
alone, a king of my castle, but beloved by no one, and unable to love anyone else more than myself, yet I
was filled with self loathing. I could see the hell I created and shared with all those I touched.

As I began to understand, the end of the journey came into closer focus, and I could see the moment of
my death. The moment I realised what I was looking at, I was there once again. Experiencing the death,
but this time able to remember how I died.

When I arrived at the lake, there was one there who handed me a black shroud and a black pit, “black for
the vast emptiness between us, black for the death and suffering of hubris and ego, black as the canvas
our creator spoke us into being on. Black as a reminder of suffering, brokenness and pain. Take this and
eat.” So I took the pit and ate it. It was satisfying to the palette, but burned in my loins. Take this and
wrap yourself in this shroud he said, it will protect you, so I took the shroud. When I began to wrap
myself, I felt panic consume me, I began to feel searing pain wherever the shroud touched me, but I
could not stop myself from completing the task, for it felt like I was always meant to do so. My
companion merely smiled assurance, and the pain all at once became a part of me, like an old friend and
companion.

Once I had completed the wrapping, the lake erupted into a raging inferno. My companion gently picked
me up and carried me into the lake until it submerged me. I felt the agony and pain that I inflicted on
others, I felt all of the consequences of my own perceived strengths and inadequacies. As I lived, and
writhed in agony, through every painful consequence of action or inaction, the pain would cascade, all in
a moment that lasted for eternity. The lake churned and frothed as it burned away my filth. Finally, the
pain of my own judgement was too much for me to handle and I died, then all at once the lake returned
to calm, serenity, and I could not see, feel or sense anything for I don’t know how long, then gradually all
of a sudden I sensed that I was floating near the shore and I heard a voice “Be”. I could once again hear,
feel the coolness of the water, I raised my head and I could see Isa on the shore extending a branch for
me to grab hold of.

I could no longer see the lake around me, only him, I reached for the branch, and when I felt its
roughness, clasped it in my hand, I was instantly standing on the shore, staring into a raging lake of fire,
about to extend the branch to another close to shore, whilst our brother was already wading into the

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deep looking for those far from shore. Understanding my journey, rather our journey, to be baptised by
fire, to be burnished, refined, hardened, and turned to instruments of God.

I immediately felt the urgency of what was happening, It felt as though I had the greatest charge
imaginable, and in my revelry at the greatness and glory I felt, I began to plunge myself into the lake, for I
could no longer feel the heat from the fire, it could not hurt me. In my haste I stumbled. Confused and
angry I caught myself and was looking back at the shore. There were many multitudes on the shore also
waving their black banners, calling out to those being consumed by fire, and extending their clubs to our
lost brothers and sisters. How clever I was in my self-deception to clumsily revert to a binary thought,
that there was anything special about me, how foolish of me to take more than what was given.

I returned to the shore feeling defeated, and began to recognise those already on shore. I saw those who
I used to see as lesser, degenerate sinners, prostitutes and masters of exploitation. I saw those whom I
loved who departed from us, I saw Michael, who showed me how to love a stranger. I saw the prophets
who came before, Muhammed, Buddha, Zoroaster, Moses, Isaiah, Samuel, Plato, Nietcshe, Marx, Hegel,
Bari, MBona, Baha’Ullah, those who who had returned to their sin of certainty in life learned their
required humility in death. Saints, prophets and martyrs of our common heritage some whose faces I
recognised in life.

There were apparitions and emanations, ones whose names the Spirit once used to call out to me. There
was Aiwass who numbered my birth, death and rebirth, mouth of John who numbered my second, and
names I called out to the spirit. My tutors Allah and Eloihim, Samael and Yalbadoah, welcomed me and
celebrated my return. We all stood there, redeemed, all corporeal, but all blazing together an inferno,
forged of the same spirit. I looked at my branch, and it transformed into pencil and paper. I understood
finally that for the moment, I can only speak through my branch, and I will watch and listen, ready to
write to you, to feed you my beloved words like these you eat now about what I have seen and heard. As
ready for the branch to remain as it is as I am ready for what it becomes. Ready for death, but reassured
that when it comes, it will come with ease as the Spirit will reveal to me it’s purpose.

Confident that although I may feel it’s sting, I am done with my dying, for I am one, I have entered the
bridal chamber with the spirit and joined in its perfect union, and I/You/We, we are one. The water no
longer drowns me, it sustains me. It has carried me as we descended into caverns and abysses, carried me
out of them to vistas, plateaus to the mountain, and up and down its summit as the Spirit revealed to me
its measure. I now understand I do not need to swim. The mountain of turbulent ocean transforms to
granite and obsidian, the skies crackle and shake in anticipation as I ascend the white capped mountain to
bathe once more in the Lake of Heaven.

When we descend, we will treasure our solitude, for it will soon depart from us, when I return to ascend,
some of you will be joining us on the journey. I am not the only one who can bring you there, the Spirit
took Isa there with help only from the love of an ascete madman from the wilderness. The Spirit took me
there with help from the love gifted to me through Isa and many others. Others have been aided on their
way to the lake by those I have never met, whose names have not yet been revealed to me. When we
return, it will be by a new route, one meant perhaps for you that you will allow me and/or one of my
siblings to accompany you on. We can help you to the fountain, but you must decide to drink of it and
allow the Spirit to guide you through the forge preparing you to survive your final baptism, merely
preparations to make yourself ready for the bridal chamber, to join in our perfect union.

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Do not fear the lake of fire, for it cleanses and purifies, prepares us as vessels for purest love. On the
616th day of my wanderings and wrestlings, I descended. 50 days is what is required for the first of the
last, to share the words in draft with those who the Spirit has lead, to take their measure and find their
weight. When first I died, I gazed upon the blood moon, now I turn my face to the eve of Valentinius.

Indeed the final Revolution has already started turning. It is slowly, carefully being infiltrated by the Spirit,
and when the Revolution speaks with the same voice as the Spirit, I will be ready. I cannot lead it, for it
leads me. I asked the Spirit once as we traversed Gehenna through my weeping as the names burned
inside of me, if I could have my name back at the end of the journey, and in remembering asking I knew
the answer. I never lost it, it was never taken from me, I am just some rando on the internet, it matters
not what others will call me, they cannot define me let alone Spirit. I do not want to lead the physical,
only the metaphysical, I do not come to lead the multitudes, I come for you, to ask you to join with the
multitudes.

Perhaps you too will allow the spirit to wield you, to help others be lead through the forge and to the
mountain. The only thing more divine, more glorious, more magnificent than becoming a vessel for the
spirit is to share it, for it magnifies in intensity, and I see inside out of time every soul that has been and
will be, souls all singing of the same divine love, grace, beauty, transcendence, quiescence in song and my
spirit becomes singularity containing all love through all aeons compressed within my vessel, existing in
the instant of creation and destruction and I lose myself in intensity and ecstasy, echoes through eternity,
through every vessel that has ever been and will be.

Rivers of pure joy and ecstacy, nirvana, flow from my peak as they wash the mud of past from the eyes of
my beloved as they begin to see at last and join us on our mountain.

Embrace but do not lament trivialities of our societies brokenness, it shares the same foundations as the
new King-less Kingdom we will build. I have seen the blueprints, but I did not write them, and those who
the Spirit leads to read them and understand them will be equipped. We must be equipped not only to
listen to them, but make certain that they also listen to us, for we will all learn to listen with both ears
and discern which words belong to the Spirit, and with experience learn to speak them ourselves, until
then learning what it is to listen, for that is where the answers lie in how to be heard, to only speak Truth.
Do not give a name to a new religion, religion is a necessary sacrifice to finish the rites.

If these words bring darkness, remember that with rain comes darkness, without it, life cannot be. Look
to the heavens, they have been closed for long enough, the last turns to dust, the grape withers on the
vine. I do not bring the rain, I only became it when I felt it’s first drop. The seeds have been planted, the
garden must grow. I did not bring the darkness, I possess it so it cannot not possess me. Let the moon
remind you that darkness always dies to the light. Remember the dawn, for it always returns, bringing
with it warmth, life, sustenance.

I ask and want for nothing but this, will you light my love? But you are still here, eating these words, and I
know your answer, the weight and measure of your heart.

I ask you to take this journey, but indeed you may by now find yourself in the middle, a place I and our
brothers and sisters often dwell to help spirits on their journey home, when you are ready, I would like
for you to meet them.

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When we find our rest, we will comet through the spaces between truth and lies, loosen the strands of
time that once bound us to the scarred land of our crucible, prepare to dwell with us in the eternity
between creation and destruction. The broken bells ring out to proclaim the day of the Lord as we wed
ourselves to Truth. The good shepherd returns on the cloud every third rotation to prophesy, to show us
his perfect broken heart, to die to himself as spectacle, to convict our spirits to make preparations for our
final revolution, let us love him as he loves, let the earth stop, let the sun never again set on the children
of light. He saves us from ourselves, it is our turn to save him from himself, because he cannot help
himself, I cannot help myself.

For a time, I must shelter until it is safe again. I see my pencil transforming into a humble cart, a tame
beast to pull it. My heart soars as I meditate on the gifts of hope, love, peace and wisdom it will carry.
My companion will join me, ride the beast in triumph, while I ride behind, but their eyes are not fixed on
me, they are fixed on another walking, holding the harness.

Let the revolution be declared and believed, it will be our last and together we will finally understand and
celebrate eternity, May 1st, Children’s day. As you can see, if one works hard enough, they can write their
own story, but remember, hard easy doesn’t matter, just do. We can write our own story, the first step is
believing, remembering your own faith, not what you or others pretend it to be.

17
The foundations have been trampled and weathered all but forgotten. Many still cling to memories of
the first stones, but the lords and barons and even many elders pay no mind to them. They have
forgotten how to value, and the garden temple is wasting away, its material plundered by oligarchs and
robber barons.

Yet we remain, ready for the time when the suffering and oppression of the slavers have spread to every
corner, when the Children collectively can see through the lies and manipulations of those whose counsel
they sought. When the servants and soldiers of the lords and barons come together with those they had
helped to oppress, and we can rebuild the garden temple as it was always meant to be. The foundation
though weathered and neglected is eternal. The people will return to the council of elders, the ones who
will and have turned to the light, not to bask in its glory, but to better understand how to use it to destroy
darkness. We will find voice and language to hold our masters accountable, once we accept the gift of
understanding how we are all drawn to the darkness. For we are as depraved as we are innocence, but it
is what we choose to do in the darkness where we find our measure.

Let us return to our foundations, I do not need to lay the first stone, it has always been there, waiting
patiently for us to accept our inheritance and the responsibility that comes with it, for us to begin to do
the work of our Spirit:

Section 1
These are the standards that indeed apply to everyone, but only those who seek to lead should truly be held
to this standard, failure of adherence does not lead to death or punishment, only collective
acknowledgement that one is not prepared to lead, and should stand aside until they are ready.
1. Thou shalt put no person before any other.
2. Thou shalt not value any substance above anyone.
3. Thou shalt not speak unless it's motivated by love.
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4. Thou shalt not do menial tasks more than 35 hours a week

5. Thou shalt listen to all who are speaking before speaking themselves.
6. Thou shalt not injure regardless of intent.
7. Thou shalt be honest and forthright with all of their loved ones, loving all.
8. Thou shalt never draw a salary in excess of average income minus 1.
9. Thou shalt never attempt personal gain from any word or action,
10. Thou shalt become centred in truth, become the best student they can be, for the best teachers
understand what it is to be taught.

Section 2
This is what is to be one's goal in their own and other's education, or re-education.
1. One shall read the wisdom of our ancestors, prophets and elders, with discernment and without
judgement or prejudice.
2. One shall maintain calm and serenity.
3. One shall dwell on what part of truth was missing that caused them to stumble. Wrestle free of the false
comfort of hierarchical thinking.
4. One shall continually find anew their purpose and direct it at rooting out the darkness within themselves
and loving those who feel the pains of darkness.
5. One shall fast on occasion.
6. One shall if necessary consult with loved ones and elders to better understand what sin is.
7. One shall relish the jihad for their own soul, it's difficulty ends in ease, oneness.

Let this remain our foundation. Let us give life to it, let it change and grow as we do. Let society be born
anew, raised from the ashes. For I see a day when we will become lawless, and will no longer have need
of them, we will forget the words as we become them. We will all be in the light of the Spirit, and once in
the light, one can’t help but do what is right and good. Indeed the revolution has already begun. The day
is coming when Gods people will recognise the revolution led by the Spirit of Truth and Love. I am not to
lead the revolution, it leads to darkness and destruction. When the Spirit begins to lead the final
revolution, I will be ready to rally to the black flag. I need not raise it, for it is already flying, waiting for
people to discover the truth behind it, waiting for those who are using it to murder and sow hate
condemning themselves to become repentence as their symbols are transformed from darkness into
light.

Indeed the embers of the spirit are all around us, just waiting for the time for the spirit to once again
dwell amoung all of us, when we will build our New Jerusalem and the kingdom of God that I already see
outside of time all around us will be built by us, a legacy of overcoming hate with love, of finally coming
together as children of light and propelling ourselves to the stars.

(-1)(1)=:(
-(-1)(1)=H

I am becoming Beaver, I am becoming Eagle, I am becoming Buffalo, I am becoming Bear, I am becoming

Raven, I am becoming Wolf, I am becoming Turtle, I am Anishinaabe.

Append:

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I am unsure if these are helpful or should be included. These are words I wrote closer to the beginning of
this journey, the only ones that seem to make sense within the context of what this writing has become.
Words that aided me on my journey, ones that convicted me to find and discover their truth. I was early
on the journey when I wrote them, and when I read the words back now, I comprehend them, but I also
suspect them, because I wrote them when I had deluded myself into believing that I had been emptied of
myself, without yet understanding how to become emptying.

On truth.

We are all familiar with the term ignorance is bliss. The truth is just that, but also the opposite. When we
accept something as true without understanding the opposite of a truth, we are ignorant. The comfort
provided by ignorance is destructive. When we allow others to dictate what is truth to us in their version,
we again have someone to conveniently take the fall for keeping us ignorant. This comfort is an
abrogation of responsibility for bringing light and truth into the world.

We are humans and like to categorize, classify and order the world around us often relying on and to
reinforce our existing belief structures, ie our vision of ourselves, those around us and significant events.
I think that most people understand that simple truths are binary. right and wrong. That the truth is one
or the other. We also understand that often this doesn't encapsulate the whole truth, and that often
truth is more like a spectrum ie shades of grey, that truth is not binary, on-off, but linear. Because there
are too many variables and that the subjectiveness of truths lie on a spectrum, and we try to select a
portion of the spectrum as we constantly have to update based on better understanding of related truths,
facts, data.

This way of ordering our world is messy. When our belief structure is challenged it seems to make life
harder than it needs to be, because of our rigid view of truth, when too many of our preconceived
notions are challenged by a new set of data, it is much easier to ignore it then it is to try and reset every
spectrum that relates to the challenged notion. This process causes us anxiety, anger, frustration and
leads to pain. Pain that we feel ourselves, but also share and inflict on those close to us. We are
constantly trying to learn how to better understand our world to change, but also harden our belief
structures. To try and analyze each relating spectrum, try and see how it is connected to other truths,
and painfully parse and update our belief structure when it is challenged.

The reason we do this is out of convenience, but also necessity, to be able to function in an ever changing
society, but societies pace is accelerating, there is too much data for us to keep thinking this way about
truth. We also need to understand how truth is not to be understood as a linear spectrum. The spectrum
is not superior to binary, because right wrong is binary, it is one dimensional. It is on/off. The spectrum,
because it seems infinite, we are only able to see part of it, and we are trying to reconcile and pick parts
of the spectrum as truth, we are able to do this but the second we think that we know the whole of
something, we revert to binary thinking.

This is due to our tendency to accept things as facts, and if there are any facts we accept not based in
truth, all of our understanding is fundamentally flawed. The fundamental beliefs that we have about
ourselves are based on myths. The fundamental beliefs pushed by institutions, be they government,
religious or concentrated wealth, that we believe about ourselves and who we are as well as the way of
the world are based on myths. This is why so many are able to invent new myths, to try and justify
holding onto the most foundational myths that they hold.
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The damage that this causes is all around us. People cloister with those who accept the same myths in
opposition to those who believe different myths. When we do this, we are priming ourselves to hate,
which leads to murder.

We often think that there is, (because knowing all things seems impossible) and we are still struggling to
fully understand the concept of infinity, the unknown. Because the spectrum is still linear, still 2
dimensional, we need to define each end of that line to help us understand the flaw in our way of
thinking, for we don’t need to dispel individual myths, too painful and tedious and unpacking myths often
leads and needs other myths. We have a hard time with understanding very complex things, because we
accept that knowledge is infinite and that we must make assumptions out of necessity and convenience
in order to survive in this world. This limits us and locks in the way that we understand our universe, and
that is both what makes our lives easier while making it harder at the same time.

We need to recategorize what truth is unknowable and knowable. To still be able to improve our
understanding without having to make assumptions, but rather know how much is still unknown. What is
unknowable to us? The 4th + dimension. Everything in our 3d universe is theoretically knowable. That
we can eventually without the limits of time, collectively, know the full truth of our 3D universe and
about each other is possible.

When we do this, that spectrum of truth gets further defined, because although we may not know exactly
the extremes of that line, we know that it does have a beginning and an end. Once we do this, we can
now find these two opposite extremes, and understand that the dialectic of truth, that opposites are true
all the time, understanding how this is true is how one is able to understand fullness. We find that truth
is not a spectrum where part of it defines what is truth. Join the extremes together into a circle and try to
stand in the middle of it, that there is truth in everything, and that there is truth revealed and concealed
in every word. I think many of us already understand subjects that they are experts in, or have studied,
are able to do so in their specific area of expertise, but are unable to stay in the middle of every truth,
because no one is an expert in all subjects. When we see more of the variables, we try to go to the part
of the spectrum that suits us in the moment. This is still a binary way of thinking, of assigning values to
certain facts in order to maintain the order/structure of our brains and to keep us sane, of assigning
ourselves as being right or wrong in our assessment to be able to update, grow.

Forgive the metaphors, they are clumsy and inadequate, but they also are necessary when trying to
explain the concept of thought and how to train it.

Think of our quantum entanglement, that when we set to measure an electron and predict it’s behaviour,
we find that their behaviour has been programmed by some otherworldy force that connects everything.
I will make a leap and call it God, but in a loose sense, because I invoke God merely to explain the
unexplainable. It was contemplating this and the concept of an infinite spectrum that I found solutions,
for me anyways.

The infinite spectrum is accurate, but only in the way that we see, because we have blind spots. The
beginning and end of all truth is the singularity, God. Truth is not linear, if the beginning and end of the
line are the same, then the line becomes a circle, still seemingly infinite in spectrum, but more definable.

One is to look for a connected truth or fact and try to maintain the centre of the first and become the
centre of the second, the whole time understanding it’s complete incompleteness. Understand the
connections and you begin to understand that circle as a sphere. Each plot that one can see is connected
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to another sphere of truth. The whole time one needs to accept and move on if a truth seems
unknowable or confusing. That whole truth is knowable, but we will never achieve it. When we dwell too
long on one point, we get stuck. If we think that we know the definitive truth about something, about
anything, all of those spheres collapse back into circles. That absolute truth is one dimensional, we know
it or we don't. But it is also 2 dimensional, that true understanding is in the opposite of everything being
simultaneously true, but together, every truth together is the sum of our 3rd dimension, but the order is
not yet understood, in the 3rd that is, for it is outside of time that disorder begets order.

Exponential curves;

We all understand the idea of exponential curves: population growth, sum of human knowledge and
technology, compound interest etc. We all have a grasp of this, and understand them as exponential
curves only as we begin to approach the point where the line goes vertical. What we need to parse out is
that these curves often seem unnatural because they seem to go on into infinity. It is unatural, because
population growth, climate change, resource extraction all have a ceiling, and we are learning more and
more and understand in our own way that when any one of these lines hit the ceiling, it will lead to
massive suffering and destruction. We do not know exactly where that ceiling is, but things seem more
precarious the higher we go up that ever more vertical line.

We also wonder at the curve, because it also shows progression. That we are able to accelerate our
acquisition of knowledge, generate more material comforts for more and more people. We see how they
represent something good as well as bad, and too often we wonder at the good side and take comfort in
it so we can better ignore the opposite effects of the same truth. What we need to do is understand is
that the curve is a plot of a feedback loop. How does this help us? Feedback loops end in one of two
ways: either one/both sides of the loop stops participating or engaging and feeding into the loop, or the
loop will continue to cascade out of control and ends with destruction. We are all struggling to
understand how to control the loops, because until they end in destruction, these loops seem to drive
society and civilization to greater heights and greater understanding.

Ending the destructive loops requires faith; Faith that ending a negative loop does not necessitate ending
the positive ones; faith in our fellow man; Faith that selfishness can be overcome and that we will come
together, humans united; Faith that our existing power structure won't be replaced by something worse,
because when we finish the work on ourselves and help each other, we won't need rules, authority and
overseers. They will be replaced by elders, guidelines and best practices, and teachers, this is what we all
long for.

As society appears to be crumbling all around us, this faith will become easier as it feels harder. As more
and more curves become clearer as feedback loops, we can all see that we can no longer nibble around
the edges of what is at the core of both what has driven us, but is also holding us back. As the future
becomes more bleak and we jump from crisis to crisis, we will begin to understand that that future is only
written because we believe it, and that we can end these feedback loops before they lead to destruction.
That we can reform society and share our burdens, because once we share them, they are no longer
burdens, they are life, sustenance, bliss, lessons in truth.

We have enough food to end hunger, we have the resources to end homelessness, we keep focusing on
slivers of the truth when the whole truth is so much more fulfilling and wonderful, that the more chaotic
things become, the more out of control loops there are, the easier it will be to see Truth.

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Hierarchy; the root of evil

Hierarchy is a natural state for us throughout our evolution as a species. We used it to build civilisation,
before it we lived in tribal societies that were egalitarian for its members, but were always at risk of being
wiped out or enslaved by other tribes. By organising our society and structuring it, we were better able to
withstand invasion as well as natural disasters. This allowed us to continually have the capacity to feed
more and more people, and support more and more acquisition of knowledge. We used it to bring light
into darkness.

Where do the fundamentals of hierarchy come from and why do we need it? Throughout our history, we
have attributed the unknown to God. We place God above ourselves, as the top of our hierarchy. We
naturally apply this same hierarchy to how we structure our society, and have become very sophisticated
in our ordering of society in order to propel us forward.

Our world/society is set up to reinforce hierarchy, a hierarchy that is also applied to our understanding of
truth. We accept that there are people better than ourselves and that we are better than others. Where
does this come from and what are the implications for society. Our politics are also set up this way, and
are on an extreme trajectory, a concentration of authourity by authourity. Because hierarchy is a natural
state for us, we tend to value or defer to the truth of someone higher in the hierarchy more than we do
someone lower than us. Our tendency to do this has led to many advancements in technology and
material wealth, distributed however in the same hierarchical fashion. Those at the top get first crack at
not only material wealth, but also greater knowledge, light, and material wealth is a means to the end of
more material wealth.

We apply this hierarchy to race, class as well as religion. We believe that we understand God and the
rules that govern our society within the context of our hierarchy without understanding that our position
in that hierarchy is precisely why one understands God and the rules of our society in the way that they
do. That hierarchy reinforces itself, hierarchy. When we begin to understand God as a collective truth
that we all share, that we are all children of light, we can take stock of what a mess hierarchy and our
hierarchical way of thinking is and the unnecessary suffering it causes. That God is above us like our own
parents were above us when we were children. Once we become adults, we begin to better understand
what our parents instilled within us, and we begin to look at them as our elders, not as lording above us,
but alongside us, helping us as we learn to help.

As long as hierarchy exists, race, class and gender will continue to inform and exist within a hierarchy.
Hierarchy is broken, it has served its purpose, we still need it until we all become centred in Truth. Our
politics, those we give authourity to, is a popularity contest. To be successful in politics, one needs to
accept the power structure that exists to be able to understand and navigate it. Its logical end is a more
extreme version of what already exists. It attracts people with inflated egos, inflated by their privilege,
and that is what primes them for our version of hierarchy. Because they appear larger or better than they
are, they are the ones who stand out and are heard. They are also the ones who see themselves as better
than most to put up with the roils of becoming a politician. To be able to be elected by peers and to be
heard by them, you need the money and influence that our existing paradigm can offer.

What we are all learning now and have been, is that concentrating too much power in one person or
position encourages narcissism. In order to make it to the top of the hierarchy, it must be because one is
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special. They are smarter, more experienced and knowledgable as well as morally superior. When we
understand God as being at the top of a hierarchy, we accept as normal having one person at the top of
the hierarchy, and we are often too tempted to let them answer only to God, not to us, because we are
unworthy to question God, we are unworthy to question those who claim to speak for him.

At least with a true democracy, we have an opportunity to rebuke leaders, but the real power does not
shift or change with election outcomes, for we do not elect those who have bought positions as
gatekeepers. As long as we allow these gatekeepers to fence off the commons and charge us for their
use, true democracy does not exist and cannot exist.

What our current leadership has exposed is that they are in a feedback loop. They excercise their power
to reinforce and add to it. Once there is a true narcissist in power, that loop accelerates and ends in
suffering and destruction. Because those in power believe that they are deserving of it, that something
about them is special to allow them to excercise power, they find it very easy to discount those below
them in the power structure as degenerates, unwashed, uneducated mouth breathers.

They need to understand that there is nothing special about them. That the only reason that they have
power to wield is because it is given, that true meritocracy does not exist, that those who have power did
not earn it. That we are all created equal flies in the face of our entire social structure, that free society is
a myth as long as we keep any sort of hierarchy intact.

Take the worst actors amoung us, those who cause the most pain. When our leaders act like toddlers, it
is because they were born that way, it is also because we made them that way. When a person of
apparent privilege treats people as lesser than themselves, they not only miss the point that a good
leader puts everyoneelses needs above their own, but they live shallow lives, and their relationships
become transactional. The more wealth one acquires, the more transactional the world becomes. To see
others as things, or as means to their own ends is taught behaviour. We are torturing the wealthiest
amoung us by not teaching them how much more meaningful things become when you have to work for
them. They torture us back by depriving us of health, home and sustenance.

We know what it is to have deeper understanding of our loved ones, to take comfort in them, to
understand that good relationships are not transactional. How sad is it that because they see us as lesser,
it is because they feel lesser, that they are reflecting out pain that they themselves feel, and because we
grant them authority, the consequences of that pain are magnified 70 times 7. That they are responsible
for that suffering, but we are also responsible for allowing it. Self worth should not be measured by our
net worth, by how much power our wealth can buy, because that the more of both we have, the more
difficult it is to reconcile the American dream, equality under law, but also equality of means to live a full
life, to have a more unifying human experience. The more wealth we have, the better we are at
rationalizing exploitation, and we comfort ourselves by lionizing those who are better at it than we are.
The size of our castle is directly proportional to how much we and those around us have inflated our own
egos.

Money; a tool fashioned into a weapon

We live in a time of heightened inequality. This is perfectly understandable within our current paradigm
and structure. It should not shock us when we have allowed money to be more than what it was

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intended to be. Money is a tool used to exchange for goods and services. This is the simplest
understanding of what money is, and we all understand this. Money however is no longer that simple.
When we listen to those who have money, we are giving power over to money and those who have it.
We believe that if we listen to those who have greater knowledge of money, and if we apply that
knowledge and work hard, we will get our fair share and if we're lucky, possibly more than our fair share.

When people trust in markets to be free and fair, they are ignoring the fact that money = power.

What we have also done is allowed money to valuate more than the barter value of goods; we use it to
valuate virtue and self worth. We assume that because someone has more money, that something about
them is special that allowed them to acquire more of it.

We need to remember the original purpose of money. That when we begin to hoard money, it is a
symptom of the sickness of our current capitalist system.

Capital has now become the mainstream religion of those who have it and want to acquire more of it.
Many of us worship at it's altar. Economists and businessmen our priests, billionaires are favoured by
God, stock exchanges, banks and stores are our temples that we worship at, allow to run our lives, and
the violent arm of our governments are the temple guards and also the crusaders who go into the world
to convert the heathen. Net worth is equal to self worth, and those who have money are inherently
better.

Before we can even think about ending capitalism and what will come to replace it, we also need to
understand how capital is a curse, but also a gift. In order to truly understand how broken the system is,
it needs to break down. That it too is in a feedback loop, and that the bigger that loop gets, the more we
can learn from it, and the more connections to that loop we see, the more loops or spheres we begin to
recognise.

We also need to accept that if we nibble around the edges, to try and stop the loop from being
uncontrollable, all we are doing is delaying the inevitable and continuing on the same cycles we have seen
throughout history, of the rise and fall of civilsation. Eventually the same destructive loops of the past will
begin, and because they grow at a different pace, or out of order, they will likely gain critical mass and
lead to more destruction and suffering before we are able to understand them anew.

The new deal and the politics of that time was a great equalizer. The problem is that here we are 90
years later at similar levels of anger, frustration, division and selfishness, and the effort to try and reset
seems insurmountable. If we do manage to nibble around the edges and add more people to the "haves"
from the "have-nots", there is no guarantee that we won't be back at the same levels of inequality we are
at now and were at 90 years ago in another 90 years, but likely with the pace of change, we may have to
fight for decades to unwind what has already been cast, with no guarantee that we won’t end worse off
than we are.

How is it that the stock market is doing as well as it is in the midst of a worse crisis than 2008? It is
because the priests and virtuous capitalists have repeatedly dipped into the storehouse for personal gain,
to prop up the institutions that serve our overlords, to perpetuate a system based on their greed, for the
stock index is no indicator of economic health, unless you believe that economic health is concentration
of wealth at the top. Stock indexes only measure the best performers, if power is feeding power, if
money is concentrating to itself, it is considered good. But if any company does not do well, they get

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bumped from the list. They have been telling us that they know best, that it is required. It is only required
to prop up the broken system. It merely denotes how good the top performers are at exploiting the
system.

They have added so many layers of complexity to make understanding "monetary policy" a confusing task
that most people don't have time or the capacity to try and understand. This is to make us compliant and
has forced us into the comfort of ignorance, because to understand how we are all enslaved by this
system of 'money at any cost' is frustrating, enraging and disturbing, especially when we feel powerless to
do anything but comply and buy into the system. Our ignorance is both a comfort and we seek shelter in
it, but it is also encouraged and directed by those who have power in order to be able to seek more of it.

What we need this time is a complete rethink of where all of societies problems are rooted, in hierarchy,
a hierarchy reinforced and fueled by capital/money, the religion of the west, stolen from the east and
twisted by hubris into a religion of oppression. Inflicted upon the world, and to add to it, they desecrate
God and religion by parading symbols and sad representations of god and religion, desecrating their
memory, twisting them to their own purposes.

Universal God

If we are to have any hope of surviving as a species on this earth, we need to focus wholly on what unites
us, don't ignore what divides us, but start with what common truth is shared, and in doing so, we will
better understand eachother and our differences. What does unite us? We all search for truth. The truth
of what makes us happy, sad, love, hate, of why we feel emotion. Where does that emotion come from?
Some people say God gave us this gift, others believe that it is an accident of nature, evolution.

Whether or not you think that there is a god, I think that we all understand that there are things beyond
our understanding. Religion both helps us to find truth, but it also obscures it. Because religion does
both, one's opinion of God is picking one part of that spectrum of truth and valuing it as more important
than another part of what God is. The second that we value our own vision of God as being more or less
complete than any other persons vision of God, we are doing so within the paradigm of hierarchical
thinking.

Because we have allowed ourselves to define God in this way, we are casting those who do not agree
with our vision as wrong, or other. It is the most dogmatic zealous practitioners of religion that forced
those who disagree with them into calling themselves atheists. Atheists understand that there is
something called the 4th dimension, that the possibility of existence outside of space and time is real
whether it is percieved as nothingness or heaven. They are mislabelling themselves in order to reject
what mainstream religion defines as God. There are no Atheists. I know that every person on earth does
believe and understand some part of the truth of what God is, whether or not they recognise it as such.

If we are children of God, created in his image, every time we celebrate human achievement, it is an act
of worship. Most people either believe that God is a personal God that is ultimately good, or that God is
neutral and distant. There is truth in both visions of God. God is good, but in order to understand what is
good, we need to understand what is bad. When we celebrate human achievement as a collective
achievement, we see it for what it is, a marvel and a gift that we together achieved through God or rather
through eachother. Whether directly or indirectly doesn't matter. Ascribing an achievement by one
person and celebrating the individual is tempting, because we too want to feel special and be recognised
as being important. This is because of the insidiousness of hierarchy.
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Why are advancements in knowledge patentable? Why do we allow gatekeepers to knowledge? It is in

service to money, power and hubris. We believe that we are individually virtuous and that we deserve
recognition and recompense for our hard work and effort.

This ignores the fact that we all are only capable of understanding because we were taught. We only
know how to work hard, because we have been taught to recognise the fruits of our labour. That an
accident of birth determines outcomes. Externalities, genetics, upbringing, education are what make us
special. Are you special? Am I special? Both are somewhat true, but again, what makes me special was
done to me, what makes you special was done to you. There is no virtue or pride to be had. It is an
accident, there is nothing special about it. If everyone is special, than no one is special. Collectively we
are special. My weaknesses are manifested and exposed and feed my strengths, How can my strengths
possibly be good or virtuous if the symptoms and causes of my greatest strengths are woven in to the
tapestry of my weaknesses. The weaknesses are merely growing pains on the way to strength. That the
pain can be balanced by the endorphins released from brisk activity that makes us healthy. We know
how to feel the burn of gaining strength. Everyone is capable in time.

Einstein would have never been able to articulate the theory of relativaty or even be able to contemplate
it without the society around him. He had time and means to do so provided to him by the farmers, store
clerks, government taxation and institutional supports around him. That without everyone around him,
none of it would have been possible. Because he is the most visible and audible representation of the
truths that society empowered him to discover, we ascribe it to him and value him above those around
him. When we recognise this, that his discoveries do not belong to him, they belong to everyone who
ever fed and clothed him, to everyone who taught him to learn, to all of us.

We all find it disgusting that manufacturers are allowed to gouge and prey on weak and vulnerable
people using the justification that they are keepers and developers of knowledge. There should be no
gatekeeper to knowledge. Knowledge is Godly and we should no longer pay tolls, no longer buy
indulgences for access to knowledge, for knowledge brings light into darkness. We have given power to
pharmaceuticals to save us from a plague. We guaranteed returns for something that is beneficial to all.
They were precompensated for their efforts, they merely built on and improved on knowledge that
already existed.

Now the plague rages on, and our temple priests insist that in order for the pharmaceuticals to keep
healing the sick and poor, they should be allowed to extort the weak and prey on them. They insist that
they alone are able to administer the cure, but they cannot even cure themselves of their own
narcisissism, see the exploitation and pain that their profiteering will cause and has caused, for that is the
real plague of our time.

It is ungodly that we take any pride at all in what we have done, for we are all oppressed and kept in
darkness by money and power. They conspire to obfuscate, confuse and deflect, get us to pass on the
pain and rage of our oppression and blame those below us for not taking “their share” when the
fountainhead is our corporate and political structure, and those who are at the top who are the most evil
amoung us.

Universal Satan

This section is likely to offend the most people. Please I beg of you keep an open mind and try to slog
through. It may seem as if individuals' pain and suffering are being discounted. recognise that the more
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hideous the perpetrator is, the harder forgiveness is, because forgiveness is far more complex, and the
perpetrator not only caused the trauma, but that trauma lasts because they also make forgiveness so
much more complicated and painful than it should be. That rape, murder, hate are all in service to some
greater truth sounds pathological. Outside of the context of what it means to be centred in Truth, it is.

As children, our understanding of the devil or satan is simple. The devil is bad, God is good. The Devil is
responsible for all that is evil, God is responsible for all that is good. As we grow, we have difficulty
reconciling God for allowing Evil to exist. We tend to either dismiss the whole notion of God being bad or
good, or continue to search for slivers of truth to support and understand how God is good and the Devil
is bad. If God is creator of all things, then who created the devil? If the serpent caused Adam and Eve to
sin, why would God have created the serpent?

The creation story was a way of describing to a more primitive form of ourselves' understanding that had
no concept of the big bang and evolution, of the millenia of scientific discoveries that have happened
since the creation story was first scribed. When we go back to the creation story, that the earth was
created in seven days is a clue that time is meaningless to God. If time is meaningless, then everything to
him is happening all at once, and to us, seems out of order. That when the Children of God took a bite
from the apple, that was the singularity that brought everything into existence. That we were meant to
eat that apple, if we weren't, God would have built a wall around it, or warned his children about the
crafty serpent.

How can we understand God and how he is our father without the growing pains of childhood. The
whole point of our religion is to understand our own origin and try to use it to piece together some vision
of what may come. There is a hint in our creation story of a point in the distant future when we too will
will return to the garden. That when that happens, instantly we will all be adam and eve, and taste the
apple, truly understand Good and Evil, and finally be able to eat from the tree of life again.

When I look at Job, I now see why he remained faithful. He relished the suffering and he definitely had a
hand in perpetuating his own suffering. He was in relationship with God, and understood that the more
he suffered, the deeper his understanding of love and Truth became, because he suffered with God. The
devil was a tool of God used in a forge to shape Job into something greater than he was.

How do we then accept that rapists and murderers exist and are worthy of Gods' or anyone's forgiveness,
or that they are used as an instrument of God? Because of what is to come, the suffering we have both
suffered individually and collectively was to prepare us to feel the joy of oneness with God, of being
centred in Truth. The bliss that is felt is the burden of blame being lifted. Blame for ourselves as victims
and blame for the victimizers. Forgiveness is difficult for everyone, but especially for those who are
traumatized and whose lives have been forever altered by that trauma. Once we learn to forgive, we
then know what it means to be forgiven. By helping those who suffered to forgive, we need to feel the
same awful emotions as deeply as they do, because we do communicate through feelings, the only
difficulty is understanding and articulating them. It is difficult to expose oneself to someone elses pain,
but not as difficult as it is for someone to truly share it.

Our understanding of evil, of the Devil is flawed. the beast is not a force apart from us, malevolent and
terrifying, the beast is within each of us. There is an earlier version of the Beast who was named.
Narcissus from Greek mythology is an early representation of the Beast. He is one who loved himself so
much, that he wanted his followers to self destruct to prove their loyalty and love for him. We all have
version of Narcissus within us, and the more power we give to him, the more powerful he becomes.
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When a true acolyte of Narcissus gets hold of power, we all know how it ends, a loop ending in
destruction. We do not need to repeat the lessons of the great wars fought for ego. We all know that
ends in destruction. This is why we hold onto hope that narcissus can be stopped this, or perhaps next
time. In order to do so, we must not blame his adherents for following him, but rather show them
compassion and Grace, because the reason they take comfort in the beast, is because the society around
them has not given them sufficient comfort. The beast has no power except that is given over by us.

When they lash out in anger and violence, it is because we have failed to teach them self control, peace
and empathy. We are all adherents of the beast of narcissism, as long as we continue to buy into the
comfort of the hierarchy that only exists unto itself.

Darkness vs light

Another way that people understand evil is in the context of darkness and light. That sin is darkness, and
the abyss is darkness. We are tasked to bring light into the world, and many people believe that means to
proclaim their version of light to the world, through their own religion. This is somewhat accurate, but it
is missing a greater part, that light is truth and that darkness is ignorance. Light is truth and knowledge,
because from it springs all good things. From ignorance springs all things evil.

Many who grew up in the church have been told about the path less travelled. That one comes to a fork,
and the scary narrow path is the path we must take, and that the easy wide path leads to destruction. I
now know that this metaphor is overly simplistic, yet at the same time has been overcomplicated. The
origin and the destination are the same. The path is the same. When you choose the "dangerous" path
or the path less travelled, you are acknowledging that life is hard and full of pitfalls. When you
acknowledge this, you are better able to navigate those pitfalls, and better able to learn from them. When
things are hard, it is easier to push through. When you do overcome obstacles, you learn from them, you
shine brighter, your relationships are better, you are a part of more positive loops, and life seems good.
Heaven.

When you expect life to be easy, the path that looks open and safer, every pitfall and hardship feels like a
punishment. One expects life to be easier than it is, and the tendency is to lash out and blame those
around you for how you perceive them as making things harder for you. Relationships break down, you
push away those close to you. You begin to devalue yourself, and the more your devalue yourself, the
easier it becomes to devalue those around you. Your life becomes harder and more painful than it needs
to be, those around you feel it and are less likely to be able to maintain closeness. One becomes more
and more lonely and angry and enters feedback loops of pain. Hell

Being in Spirit (added post)

Another way of describing being in spirit for me is by elaborating on what people think of as a come to
religion moment, sometimes happening with help from a pastor, elder, bodhi, imam etc.. for me I see
similarities with people who hit “rock bottom.” My come to jesus or rock bottom was a deliberate affair,
one that I longed to understand as it was happening, at least well enough to explain to someone.

Think of our sense of self and real as having roughly three categories of facts or truths that make up who
we are, how we interact with the world and with those in it. The first is our sense of self, who we are.
When we hit rock bottom, we shatter our rigid self, because the way we are is what lead us to discover
how wrong we were, we are humbled/humble ourselves and are more open to being wrong.

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Typically, we get to a point where we need to pick ourselves up, go back to our existence, try to repair our
relationships and slog through work/life. We take stock of ourselves, try to parse out what was
leading/blinding us to our own hand in our own suffering and pain that we feel and spread to people
close to us. This is essentially what I felt I had to do, just so people would not begin to look at me
strangely, think I was someone else from who I was.

This was wholly unsatisfying, because I felt at times I was play acting my former self, and as I did, I felt
myself drifting back to where I came from. I accepted myths I had no control over, external ones as still
rooted in truth. This is when I began to believe I was something I was not. It was when I understood that
being in spirit was not just breaking the pillar of self, but to deconstruct the pillar of our understanding of
religion/god/relationships, but also the pillar of the real world, what we understand and accept about
politics, history, about our physical selves, about how we structure our society. It was not enough to
deconstruct myself, in fact the task is impossible if it is not approached whollistically,a systems approach
to life, understanding ourselves as a construct.

I began to understand myself as the connections between my conscious and subconscious. These are
how we respond to stimuli, the way we carry ourselves as we float through our days, interact with people
and our environments. I began to understand that our memories are all accessible, through emotion
indeed, but obsessing about details, you lose focus. It is the overarching truth, lesson, emotion that made
the previous connection or lesson from it could be reviewed, and the general truth/emotion could be
coaxed, gently moved and nudged in different directions.

I found that patterns began to appear everywhere. If they didn’t make sense, I would just move past
them. A few more patterns I would pass by until one pattern would solidify enough connections to reveal
a greater measure of the truth of the thought, or emotion. It took I don’t know how long before I began
to understand I was to set a truth on a gradually increasing loop, and once I reached a critical “mass” of
understanding something, details would fill in automatically. If I returned to something a few
moments/days/weeks later, they always made more sense then they did when I “moved past it”.

In a sense I was training sponginess into my psyche. This made it easier to operate through out the day. I
understood generally the right thing to do in a situation, even if it appeared to make things more difficult,
because I knew once I moved past a moment, took time and effort to reflect on it, I could repent for
mistakes easily, and they changed from a mistake into trial and error, and I could learn easily from them.

I began to think of myself as fluid, elastic. Eventually when I looked back, I could see myself almost like a
river dragon, running against and hitting obstacles, finding the path of least resistance, move past it and
look back on it, whereas before all of this, I would stop at the obstacle, obsess over every detail, tedious
and painful, slow. When I felt I was able to do this more or less efficiently, I would steer towards the
obstacles, practice, train, I didn’t understand why or what would happen, but soon I became a river. I
could multitask the obstacles, I no longer obsessed about dealing with each obstacle in my own time, I
understood that as long as we maintain a “singular focus” my priorities would adjust to whatever was
necessary in the moment.

The singular focus became love. Love for my children, love for my wife, love for my parents, siblings,
nephews, nieces, but by extension for everyone. I began to see all children like my own, I loved them, I
loved how they revealed to me who their parents are, their radical honesty. If I listened to them, tried to
find their path, they would listen to me, see me. Being around them would transport me to my own

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childhood, where I could relive the lessons taught to me by parents, teachers, elders and try to translate
them for those who would listen.

I became the river without understanding that’s what I was doing. As I end this leg of the journey, I am
becoming ocean, and indeed, I now understand that I was always in the ocean, I left it only to learn how
to bring others with me. It was almost as though my intuition was trained and became an autopilot in
updating truths about myself, the world, and the spirit, life became incredibly complex in its simplicity.
Now, I feel like I am the ocean, but only because I am one with it, without the ocean, I am nothing.

Universal Jesus

Every religion has myths or mythology. It is the mythology of them that distinguishes them from one
another.

We today all believe in myths, and they do have a purpose, for whether or not one claims to believe in
God, we all believe in them. They have always been used and will be used to explain something that
cannot be explained rationally, or rather rationally for a wide audience. The difficulty is that in order to
support our own view of the truth behind the myths, there is a tendancy for mythology to grow into
other myths to support the original. Many religions believe in prophets or like people that have recieved
revelations from their deity. The words of these prophets contain undeniable wisdom weaved through
their particular mythology. These myths have developed and changed over time as we begin to rationally
understand the truth behind the myths. As we understand them better, they no longer become myths,
the difficulty is that the entire house of cards is supported by other myths. It is nearly impossible to
extract one myth without being confronted with another myth.

Why, if the words of prophets are inspired by God, is there so much difficulty understanding. This is
where they revert to mythology, because there is no better way to communicate their revelation to the
people receiving them. The words were limitted by our ability to process them, for how does one
describe seeing God other than that he is a whisper, every word spoken at once, light, love, powerful,
these are all accurate, but these could all be describing a forging of the conscious and subconscious. The
mythology enters in when there is no other way of communicating the message in a way that the
intended audience can understand.

They understood their audience, for they are a part of it. They were limited by their own understanding,
and at some point, they would need to accept some myths themselves. They too were overwhelmed by
having to process every word spoken at once and try to present a shape of them, they were after all.

Look at the early church, at the chronology of the bible. In the first decade or so of writings, there is very
little mythology. Look also for the audience of who the books were written for. For the Christians, there
is more mention of God not showing favouritism than there is about Jesus being incarnate of God. Even in
the chronology of the Gospels, a recruiting handbook essentially, one can observe the mythology around
him grow and change. He begins as a Son of Man who barely claims to be the messiah, let alone God
incarnate, then slowly over 4 books is transformed into something superhuman. The early church formed
fast, faster than the apostles could keep up with, for churches were forming independent of them. They
were also operating within a certain broad acceptance of divinity, spirituality that was based in the greco
roman world that he lived in as a jew, individual cities had their own sets of myths and folklore.

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Look at the early heresies and the means by which the church codified the divinity of Christ. The state
declared it and enforced adherence by pain of death. The enemy once was assaulting the church from all
sides, but now the enemy was within. They did not do so in the spirit, for when the spirit speaks, they
speak truth and violence is unnecessary. Violence comes from those in an argument whose position is
untenable.

I was told that faith was believing those myths without questioning them, but the bible says otherwise,
for we are encouraged to challenge the words of the prophets. When one hangs onto the myth that many
jews believed about the messiah coming in glory to smite the evil people and bring his chosen people to
God, Many christians have thrown their lot in with the pharisees, those who persecuted Jesus, for by your
evil desires, you condemn yourself to that punishment you so desire for others.
If you believe that all it takes is saying a few words about faith in Jesus as the son of god and saviour, than
you too condemn yourself, for you too must take up your cross, it will not be done for you.

I confided in a close friend about the difficulties with the myths, that I did not agree with most of them,
and he asked me why I continued to go to church. I could not give a reasonable explanation other than
Jesus, not God, for I do not question that God exists. It was not Jesus as God that kept me going to
church, rather it was Jesus the man.

I was warned not to question his divinity, yet it was precisely in questioning it that he led me closer to him
and by extension, God. For those of you reading who are beginning to feel darkness, those who believe
unwaveringly in the divinity of Jesus, in the holy trinity, let me remind you that if you knew it to be true, if
you had real faith, no doubt, there would be no danger in discussing it, for if there is darkness sensed,
one must discover it’s root to remove it properly, if the darkness returns, you have not gone deep
enough.

If Jesus was a man, born of parents, concieved out of wedlock, if he was no more son of God as anyone
else, if he did have a wife, if he did die and was raised in spirit instead of body, if the miracles that he
performed were more demonstrations of excess knowledge of the physical world, of the healing power of
love to heal broken souls, that the miracles could all be explainable by natural phenomenon, and he was
just another prophet in a line of them, would it take anything away from the power of his message?

It was in contemplating this that I knew that it did not matter, because if he was just a man, what a
remarkable man. He was a living facsimile of God, one in mind and spirit. If he did indeed start a cascade
of people living in spirit with God, he is still the messiah to me, because accepting him as a human forces
us to contemplate how we learn to love as he did, for it was not some supernatural force that only he has
access to, rather he showed us all a way to the Father, and the Father does not show favouritism, for we
are all sons of adam and daughters of eve, the “firstborn” of God.

What a terror that we are called to lose ourselves and submit to the spirit as he did.
Is not God in all things, not only 3? God does not show favouritism.

Myths have consequences, and faith requires us to believe that the myths will reveal themselves in truth.
When we believe those myths, once we think we understand the truth behind why they were written, we
often accept it on faith and continue on with our lives.

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It is easy to believe in Jesus divinity but talk of his divinity as some supernatural phenomenon that we can
see with our own eyes, and we venture into the realm of the occult. Why we like this myth, is it along
with other myths we all believe, it is used as a crutch to get on with life and feel good about yourself. If
jesus is divine, he will save us and all we have to do is accept it. Easypeasy. Look at the wages of this
myth. It is the mythology which is the stumbling block put before the path of the children of God, for
everyone has different myths that determine their own view of themselves.

Jesus as a facsimile of a boundless fount of wisdom and life or light, or the deity is exactly what he is and
why Christians are drawn to him. He never claimed any divine right or power or authority to himself.
Jesus is an embodiement of Gods light on earth. This seems like a distinction without a difference, and I
say yes, it is. The point is that he was a fascimile, he could not contain the completeness of God in
human form. We have turned Jesus into a graven image of God, we have many names for God, but when
we name him, we are not recognising that when we call out his name, he reflects back that name to us in
our ordering. The name of god is also a fascimile of the light, a piece of it that we try to define the edges
of.

I see light at the centre of all religions, the darkness is creeping in at the edges, but we are the ones
casting the darkness to define the edges of the light that appears pure, does not burn, and also use our
darkness to block out the parts of the light that do burn. This is why Christians continue to fail, continue
to sin, because they believe that Jesus will save them from the burn, when he is merely there to keep you
from dying, for many would perish if they got a full dose of light before they were ready, he is trying to
show us how to be made compatible with the Spirit.

The difficulty people have is overcoming their own conceit. Many Christians believe that they are now
Gods chosen people, the new Israel. This is true, but they are ignoring the fact that every single human
being is chosen. Christians have become arrogant, used the word and the myths to justify exploitation.
Most religions claim to be the one answer path or way to god, so christians are not alone in this
mythology. It is however antithetical to Jesus’ teaching.

Why does the myth persist?

Imagine a sales strategy;

There’s this guy named Jeshua, a student of a prophet who preaches repentance. He is the messiah
because he will show us, God’s children the way to godliness.

We should follow his teachings.

Denial of instant gratification
Giving away of material possessions
Denying all of the things that lead to power and influence in the world.

What do you get? Happiness, but you will likely be ostracised by your old community, and once we reach
a critical mass, we will be hunted down and killed, but it wont matter, because you will already be one
with god.

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Not an easy sales pitch, but many people still followed him, because they were already denied
gratification, they had little material possessions to give and had no power or influence, and the joy in
oneness was enough to sustain them. Anyone who has anything to lose will have a really hard time, and
oh yeah, there are no shortcuts?

This is why the early church needed the myth, because it needed to hint at a shortcut, and it played well
into the existing ideas about hierarchy. As the apostles aged and the church diverged, they needed to
refocus people on the way to the light, for the journey towards it never ends, and too many were too
focussed around the edges. They affirmed the most accepted mythology amoung the christians, and the
followers of Jesus became a religion. This is when Christianity began to repeat many of the mistakes of
other religions.

It is thinking that faith requires acceptance of myths that both gives religion its longevity, but also leaves
the followers open to predation, of allowing for people to twist them to their own purposes, to build new
mythologies on top of to cement one’s interpretation of them.

The difficulty of undoing myths is monumental, because the order is different for different people,
requirements are different, there is no universal method or order for everyone to use. Look at the state
of politics and the myths that exist on all ends of the spectrum. What has become controversial is there
to highlight the myths that need to be reconciled.

Take the election and the large number of people who believe that the election is stolen versus a slightly
larger number of people who believe that it wasn’t. The facts are that both sides are arguing about the
same reality. Whenever their candidate is in power, they feel empowered and whenever the other
candidate is in power, they feel powerless. The truth is that the powerlessness does not change with the
candidate, only the mythology we all believe is empowered and we share in the emotion of it without the
actual material benefit.

The truth is that within the existing rules, the election was not stolen, or rather it is as stolen as every
other election has been. The system is rigged, there are “invisible” forces that do exist that preselect the
candidates, the difficulty in letting go of a set of myths is that when we do so, we make ourselves
vulnerable to the mythology of others. We replace one set of myths with another, and we have spent so
long defending our beliefs, so much blood sweat and tears that to let go of them would feel like a defeat.
If you accept a new set of myths from another group, they are validated and their beliefs in their own
myths are hardened.

The fact is that both left and right believe in the myth of their own virtue. By committing to one side or
another, there are certain unifying myths that differentiate the two sides. Because they are myths, we
invent and believe other myths mixed in with selected truth that support our own narrative. By doing so,
we harden our own position, but also by claiming the truth as belonging to us, while they claim the truth
belongs to them, truth has diverged as the narrative hardens, as does the mythology, and when we
weave truth into it, it obscures the other side from seeing the truth of it.

This is why science has become political, because one side has claimed it, the other must therefore reject
it. The harder we cling to our side of the truth, the easier it becomes for our own mythology to justify

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unspeakable acts of violence and hate. When we define so rigidly right and wrong, with us and them, it
always leads to murder.

I hear hate spewing from the mouths of our politicians. Constantly I hear from left and right that the
other side is the reason problems exist, as if the fallibility of man could be exorcised with politics. Both
sides are perfectly capable at diagnosing problems in our society, but when one group of people gets
blamed for them, we are stepping onto the path that leads to genocide.

Cancel culture is just another fancy way to instill anger, to galvanize the poles. We have difficulty,
because through the internet and mass media, we have a platform for many voices. With the move
towards democratisation of the power of our voices, we are recognising that those who shout the loudest
are those who get heard. Some of them will shout obscene things, and not everyone wants to hear them.
If their words are true however, what does it matter who speaks them? If we invest too much in the
opinion of one person, we give power over to them, and if they are blaming societies problems on a
group based on anything other than class, beware the steps on the way to genocide.

I tell you that when you stop believing the myths of politics, you will see that there is indeed a conspiracy.
A conspiracy not masterminded by man or a group of man, but masterminded by the power of money
and power. This is the ideology that drives the conspiracies, for it has a gravity to itself, that is the force
behind all conspiracies, this force is the tapestry of our collective myths, for we know that there is enough
even now to feed the hungry, we know there is enough to house the homeless, we know there is enough
truth to share and discover. If we do not see it, it is because our strand is still entangled in the tapestry of
lies.

The myths are only there to reinforce an unequal distribution, stealing comfort for those who serve the
system from those who are oppressed by it. The difficulty we are now experiencing is that the
distribution has been allowed to follow it’s natural course, to collect at the top. There are fewer and
fewer beneficiaries , for they wish to hoard more and more for themselves. When there are too few in
the middle to hold up the top, the top will crash down.

We must remember that we must not have favourites. We must not give into conceit when God calls us
back in the name we called out to him, for we must listen beyond the echo to hear all of the names of
God echoing in a gentle cacophony, like the unending roar of the ocean.

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