Thursday, May 31, 2012
Deprivation
The past 8 hours of my life have been absolutely horrible. Ever since deciding to quit drinking corporate cola I have found it harder and harder to sleep. On the night of the 29th I only received 2 hours of sleep before waking up. I wasn't able to go back to sleep. Yesterday went somewhat normally, save for the usual delirium. But last night, as I attempted to sleep, I slowly realized that this was not going to happen. My sister's cat has been in heat for the past 3 days. All throughout the night, she makes an incredibly irritating and loud sound. Every rare instance where I began to doze off, she would start again. I cannot describe the level of powerlessness and frustration this stirred up in me. If I closed my door in a futile attempt to block out the sound, my dog would scratch at it wanting to come in. I only got 2 hours of sleep again because when I locked her in my room to have the door closed (and when the cat fell asleep or something) she scratched and whined again to get out, instantly waking me up. My entire body aches, my teeth are sore from grinding, my mind is being sucked into a vortex of hate, and just as an added bonus, sometime during the night my rabbit broke one of his claws and he is now nearly unable to walk from the pain. I just can't believe the snowball effect that is taking place. Every time I tell myself the universe is naturally good and it's just my perceptions that need to change, shit like this happens. We are clearly in what could be described as hell. Nature is beautiful on the outside but totally cruel and unfair on the inside. People who are innocent and actually care for others are punished the worst out of anyone, while people who lie and murder are given all the power that could potentially change things. It is truly a pointless, endless struggle to see anything here as being inherently good and balanced. If there is a god, he is a fucking bastard.
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Lagomorphic Resonance
Today I decided not to indulge in my ritual ingestion of a particular popular caffeinated soda beverage. I'm on a sort of quest to detox my body of all undesired chemical dependencies. But in the process of eliminating this agent, I feel my mind coming back under personal control. No longer in an unconscious frenzy to destroy all beauty, I can feel something emerging that is very rare to me: Peace. Naturally, stimulants are not very beneficial in attaining this state.
I can't remember the last time I wasn't totally hooked on some kind of stimulant. Starting in elementary school I was drinking coca cola on a near-daily basis. My parents would buy the decaffeinated kind so I wouldn't be up all night. But even then, it had high fructose corn syrup in it. So the past 13 years of my life I have been under the influence of these stimulant chemicals. And for the past 13 years I have suffered chronic depression. I was lucky enough not to be put on any sort of medication. But I was also unlucky enough to never really have anyone to connect with. I have felt extremely isolated my whole life, due to events in my childhood.
To summarize, when I was very young, my mother treated me differently than my siblings, and she made me feel special and loved. She was also a violent alcoholic and a drug user and she and my dad fought constantly. She left our house suddenly around when I was 5 years old. My sisters hated me because my mom didn't treat them like she treated me. So naturally, they bullied me. My dad decided to make up for what my mother did, and he would treat my sisters better than he treated me, to make them feel special. So when my mom left, I was stuck alone with an unbalanced family that psychologically scarred me. I was silent most of the time, just thinking more than anything. I would wait for my mother to come back. My father was silent towards me, unloving, uncaring. Acted like I wasn't there. I know it's somewhat normal for fathers to treat their sons this way, but after being raised by mother to feel like I was smart and cared for, and then to have that presence disappear, well... You get the picture. It created in me a feeling of abandonment, of despair and loss, a feeling that never quite went away. When she came back I was already gone.
To love is to be loved. The goal of my life is to heal from these wounds and to transcend the factors that have caused this grief. I have taken under my care a small rabbit. He was my younger sister's before I returned from Georgia, having escaped the farm. My sister would disappear for days on end, and I took upon the task of keeping him fed, and introduced exercise and proper attention to his life. She had been planning on giving him away to someone (clearly, a sign of responsibility and love), but I did not trust any of her friends to properly take care of this rabbit. They're not the very reliable people. So he fell under my care, to no complaints. He is helping me to love again.
I can't remember the last time I wasn't totally hooked on some kind of stimulant. Starting in elementary school I was drinking coca cola on a near-daily basis. My parents would buy the decaffeinated kind so I wouldn't be up all night. But even then, it had high fructose corn syrup in it. So the past 13 years of my life I have been under the influence of these stimulant chemicals. And for the past 13 years I have suffered chronic depression. I was lucky enough not to be put on any sort of medication. But I was also unlucky enough to never really have anyone to connect with. I have felt extremely isolated my whole life, due to events in my childhood.
To summarize, when I was very young, my mother treated me differently than my siblings, and she made me feel special and loved. She was also a violent alcoholic and a drug user and she and my dad fought constantly. She left our house suddenly around when I was 5 years old. My sisters hated me because my mom didn't treat them like she treated me. So naturally, they bullied me. My dad decided to make up for what my mother did, and he would treat my sisters better than he treated me, to make them feel special. So when my mom left, I was stuck alone with an unbalanced family that psychologically scarred me. I was silent most of the time, just thinking more than anything. I would wait for my mother to come back. My father was silent towards me, unloving, uncaring. Acted like I wasn't there. I know it's somewhat normal for fathers to treat their sons this way, but after being raised by mother to feel like I was smart and cared for, and then to have that presence disappear, well... You get the picture. It created in me a feeling of abandonment, of despair and loss, a feeling that never quite went away. When she came back I was already gone.
To love is to be loved. The goal of my life is to heal from these wounds and to transcend the factors that have caused this grief. I have taken under my care a small rabbit. He was my younger sister's before I returned from Georgia, having escaped the farm. My sister would disappear for days on end, and I took upon the task of keeping him fed, and introduced exercise and proper attention to his life. She had been planning on giving him away to someone (clearly, a sign of responsibility and love), but I did not trust any of her friends to properly take care of this rabbit. They're not the very reliable people. So he fell under my care, to no complaints. He is helping me to love again.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Mister Mystical's Crystal Mysteries
A sinister air of outlying false superiority is spreading through my mind like dense fog. In the words and actions of others I see an incredibly harsh judgement of myself where no such intent is ... intended. The being which has taken up residence in my mind is cleverly directing etheric spears from my brainwaves towards my heart. It has to be sneaky and act as if these ideas are originating from my true creative source. A sabotage of will, if you will.
My revealing self, the one who displays these deeply personal interactions, the one which analyzes and sees these illusions as such, is the one I know I truly am. A shredder of veils, a solver of brain-games, an ejector of demiurgic influence. In the act of disclosing the presence of a invasive darkness, this spiritual parasite, I have defeated it, checkmate, for it does not "exist" as any sort of truth, but is trapped within the confines of my analytical mindcycle. There it is isolated, and shall be purged with the rest of my faulty reality models.
I have the slightest feeling that my writings as of late are very hard to follow. Maybe even meaningless to the observer who cannot find substance with which to feed their brain. What I'm doing is casting a sort of spell. The act of presenting these words to the internet-mind acts as an expelling force, the mechanics of which are extremely vague to me, but something is drawing me to the conclusion that this will aid in flushing this entity from my stream of thought and out of my being forever, allowing me to flourish, allowing my presence to be cleared of this primitive fear.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Spectres on the Screen
The Demise of Guys: How Video Games and Porn are Ruining a Generation
"Increasingly, researchers say yes, as young men become hooked on arousal, sacrificing their schoolwork and relationships in the pursuit of getting a tech-based buzz."
I agree with a couple of overall themes of this article. I know firsthand that video games and porn can be incredibly "addicting". However, having broken both of those "addictions", I would say the actual disease here is a lack of critical thinking and some sort of spiritual path. The real problem of this generation, as I see it, is a complete lack of any sort of foresight, any sort of motivation beyond acquiring money. Those of us who are lucky enough to get off of society's hamster wheels after high school see this immediately. Having once been what is now called a "New Atheist", the ideas of which were cast violently out of my mind soon after I was out of high school and began experimenting with meditation and drugs, I can easily say that it is a frame of mind that is a complete dead end and may be the most important factor of this "ruined generation". We are not taught anything that would be truly important to know, just a set of mental skills that will more easily convert us into servile tools of some faceless corporation.
With this article, the problem posited by the authors and by commenters is that by indulging in these vices we are incapable of being efficient drones. Some habits are just more profitable to our "benefactors", I suppose. Yet within this porn-and-videogames model, The dominator aspect of our output into the physical realm is reduced to an entirely mental interaction. Our emerging thoughtforms are what we now dominate, our creativity eliminated or transmogrified into seek-and-destroy urges manifest. The spectres on the screen are of our own dead dreams.
To what ideal do we aspire? Our aspirations lie just beyond this electronic window, the visual information displayed not damaged or pleasured by our internal transactions of primitive urges. Violence is being fomented in the cycles of the developing mind. When people say "go fuck yourself", it is something you really do any time you have sex, due to one only having immediate knowledge of one's own impressions. So the only difference between finding pleasure in a computer screen and another human being is the aesthetic association imprinted throughout one's life. However, that's only the sex part. The development of nurturing symbiosis with another human being is not attainable through a machine.
The video game part is a bit more concerning. From a very disturbing personal experience, I have related thusly: A few months ago, shortly after learning I could "embed" myself into a matrix-like superhuman ability-structure while playing a popular online game, the violence carried over into my physical form. The same night, I gave my rabbit a bag to play with, and he got caught up in one of its straps. In a natural fear response, thinking himself to be in the clutch of some terrible predator, he darted around the room in an absolute frenzy, smashing into the walls. Eventually the bag lost its grip on him and he jammed himself behind a bookshelf. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever witnessed, to see this creature I loved completely lost in his illusion of fear, hurting himself in the process of trying to escape. I could see the correlation immediately and did not play that game again for a very long time.
What does this mean? To me, it means there is no difference between killing through a surrogate in a virtual dimension or killing in "real life". Either way, you are accessing and enacting some latent wish to harm, and carrying it out in mental space.
This is not all doom and gloom. It means that what you seek in your world is already in your imagination and subject to a psychotronic relay. However, our priorities and goals must be clearly outlined. Personally, I am seeking love, wrestling with some internal demon for control of my interface.
"Increasingly, researchers say yes, as young men become hooked on arousal, sacrificing their schoolwork and relationships in the pursuit of getting a tech-based buzz."
I agree with a couple of overall themes of this article. I know firsthand that video games and porn can be incredibly "addicting". However, having broken both of those "addictions", I would say the actual disease here is a lack of critical thinking and some sort of spiritual path. The real problem of this generation, as I see it, is a complete lack of any sort of foresight, any sort of motivation beyond acquiring money. Those of us who are lucky enough to get off of society's hamster wheels after high school see this immediately. Having once been what is now called a "New Atheist", the ideas of which were cast violently out of my mind soon after I was out of high school and began experimenting with meditation and drugs, I can easily say that it is a frame of mind that is a complete dead end and may be the most important factor of this "ruined generation". We are not taught anything that would be truly important to know, just a set of mental skills that will more easily convert us into servile tools of some faceless corporation.
With this article, the problem posited by the authors and by commenters is that by indulging in these vices we are incapable of being efficient drones. Some habits are just more profitable to our "benefactors", I suppose. Yet within this porn-and-videogames model, The dominator aspect of our output into the physical realm is reduced to an entirely mental interaction. Our emerging thoughtforms are what we now dominate, our creativity eliminated or transmogrified into seek-and-destroy urges manifest. The spectres on the screen are of our own dead dreams.
To what ideal do we aspire? Our aspirations lie just beyond this electronic window, the visual information displayed not damaged or pleasured by our internal transactions of primitive urges. Violence is being fomented in the cycles of the developing mind. When people say "go fuck yourself", it is something you really do any time you have sex, due to one only having immediate knowledge of one's own impressions. So the only difference between finding pleasure in a computer screen and another human being is the aesthetic association imprinted throughout one's life. However, that's only the sex part. The development of nurturing symbiosis with another human being is not attainable through a machine.
The video game part is a bit more concerning. From a very disturbing personal experience, I have related thusly: A few months ago, shortly after learning I could "embed" myself into a matrix-like superhuman ability-structure while playing a popular online game, the violence carried over into my physical form. The same night, I gave my rabbit a bag to play with, and he got caught up in one of its straps. In a natural fear response, thinking himself to be in the clutch of some terrible predator, he darted around the room in an absolute frenzy, smashing into the walls. Eventually the bag lost its grip on him and he jammed himself behind a bookshelf. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever witnessed, to see this creature I loved completely lost in his illusion of fear, hurting himself in the process of trying to escape. I could see the correlation immediately and did not play that game again for a very long time.
What does this mean? To me, it means there is no difference between killing through a surrogate in a virtual dimension or killing in "real life". Either way, you are accessing and enacting some latent wish to harm, and carrying it out in mental space.
This is not all doom and gloom. It means that what you seek in your world is already in your imagination and subject to a psychotronic relay. However, our priorities and goals must be clearly outlined. Personally, I am seeking love, wrestling with some internal demon for control of my interface.
Virus Alert
During and after my meditations lately I've been reaching a strange place in my mind. I am tuned into extreme polarities, what one could call switching between heaven and hell. It almost seems like pure luck that I tune into either, and when I accidentally go to hell, it's not fun. In hell mode, every move I make is advanced by some inner force of darkness and my thoughts are invaded by sinister entities that take over my energetic form and make it perform incredibly evil acts. My way of breaking out of this trance is to place my awareness back into my physical body, to settle into the structural balance inherent in this universe. This is limbo, you could say. Proving to myself, I am not doing those horrible things I see in my mind's eye, I am sitting here calmly and at peace with my surroundings. It's a blessing that we are not constantly spiraling into the chaos of lost autonomy.
My heaven mode is where I decide that I, as a loving being, am in charge of my perceptions. Everything makes sense, and it's far beyond any sort of rational explanation, or reason to explain to others because they must find it on their own. When we are in pain, we view our entire lives as taking place within that pain realm. When we feel that all-encompassing love, it is all we have ever known. Yet they act as analogs, references to one another. We exist at the merging point of those analogs, we are their transaction. We are the energy of their interactions and fluctuations - we created them.
So, lately I've been far too mired in hell mode to really explore different perceptions. This archonic entity is acting to prevent me from altering reality too much. And in a weird way, I am appreciative of that. I know that I must listen to the heartbeat of being more to be able to do this properly. Something is speaking as if to say "so, you've figured out that your mind and your reality are one, what will you do if thoughtforms that are not your own end up in your mind?" Is this paradoxical? And could it just be showing me viruses in my holographic mindfield that could be screwing up my reality? I am convinced that our consciousness is far more influential upon our relative realities than we are aware of. One of my more frightening drug experiences involved me coming to the realization that by observing conspiracies and demonic alien forces, I was creating their reality. I alone, as a quantum observer, was responsible for the terror and iniquity of the world I found myself in. Which is, of course, why shamans are important. My only consolation within this total hell I find myself in from time to time (more often than not lately) is to actively direct my thoughts, to clear my mind-space of archetypal influence. I become nothingness, I clear the slate so to speak, back to the drawing board. I am not the artist nor the art, I am the act of art becoming and all variables involved.
We only know as much as what we're thinking about at the moment. We build big houses of cards and sometimes live in them for our whole lives, constantly in fear of inevitable winds, or approaching pachyderms. However, my interactions with the universal mind as of late are troubling. Synchronicity is informing me of a darker truth than what I am comfortable with. Something involving time loops and what Mark LeClair refers to as a "false womb". What's good is that there is equal response to negate or transmute this notion. My daily ventures into the vegetable biosphere are soaking me in the most undeniable beauty. I cannot observe the majesty of these trees, their deep, glowing hues of green in the foreground of the pink sunset without feeling like I am somewhere so pure and perfect, tarnished only by the cold logic of man's systems, of culture's needs, of our selfish stupidity in contrast to the wisdom of animal and plant kingdoms. There is something to be said of the beauty we have the option to interact with on a daily basis.
It's very important to consider your role in what you see around you. Some associations stick more than others due to the aesthetic in which you initially experienced them. But if those wear out, one should always go "back to the drawing board" and re-associate. You have that power, although from personal experience, it is not easy at first. I like to try and observe things without using words. What becomes important to you about that object? How do you see yourself as affecting it non-locally? How can you use this associative restructuring to make life better? To assume that one could simply be fooling oneself into delusions of grandeur by doing this would be implying an absolute perceivable reality to which all should subscribe, which is of course completely ridiculous.
"Everything should be constellated outward from the perceiving self. That is the primary datum." - Terence McKenna
My heaven mode is where I decide that I, as a loving being, am in charge of my perceptions. Everything makes sense, and it's far beyond any sort of rational explanation, or reason to explain to others because they must find it on their own. When we are in pain, we view our entire lives as taking place within that pain realm. When we feel that all-encompassing love, it is all we have ever known. Yet they act as analogs, references to one another. We exist at the merging point of those analogs, we are their transaction. We are the energy of their interactions and fluctuations - we created them.
So, lately I've been far too mired in hell mode to really explore different perceptions. This archonic entity is acting to prevent me from altering reality too much. And in a weird way, I am appreciative of that. I know that I must listen to the heartbeat of being more to be able to do this properly. Something is speaking as if to say "so, you've figured out that your mind and your reality are one, what will you do if thoughtforms that are not your own end up in your mind?" Is this paradoxical? And could it just be showing me viruses in my holographic mindfield that could be screwing up my reality? I am convinced that our consciousness is far more influential upon our relative realities than we are aware of. One of my more frightening drug experiences involved me coming to the realization that by observing conspiracies and demonic alien forces, I was creating their reality. I alone, as a quantum observer, was responsible for the terror and iniquity of the world I found myself in. Which is, of course, why shamans are important. My only consolation within this total hell I find myself in from time to time (more often than not lately) is to actively direct my thoughts, to clear my mind-space of archetypal influence. I become nothingness, I clear the slate so to speak, back to the drawing board. I am not the artist nor the art, I am the act of art becoming and all variables involved.
We only know as much as what we're thinking about at the moment. We build big houses of cards and sometimes live in them for our whole lives, constantly in fear of inevitable winds, or approaching pachyderms. However, my interactions with the universal mind as of late are troubling. Synchronicity is informing me of a darker truth than what I am comfortable with. Something involving time loops and what Mark LeClair refers to as a "false womb". What's good is that there is equal response to negate or transmute this notion. My daily ventures into the vegetable biosphere are soaking me in the most undeniable beauty. I cannot observe the majesty of these trees, their deep, glowing hues of green in the foreground of the pink sunset without feeling like I am somewhere so pure and perfect, tarnished only by the cold logic of man's systems, of culture's needs, of our selfish stupidity in contrast to the wisdom of animal and plant kingdoms. There is something to be said of the beauty we have the option to interact with on a daily basis.
It's very important to consider your role in what you see around you. Some associations stick more than others due to the aesthetic in which you initially experienced them. But if those wear out, one should always go "back to the drawing board" and re-associate. You have that power, although from personal experience, it is not easy at first. I like to try and observe things without using words. What becomes important to you about that object? How do you see yourself as affecting it non-locally? How can you use this associative restructuring to make life better? To assume that one could simply be fooling oneself into delusions of grandeur by doing this would be implying an absolute perceivable reality to which all should subscribe, which is of course completely ridiculous.
"Everything should be constellated outward from the perceiving self. That is the primary datum." - Terence McKenna
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Through the Grinder
I'm really going through bad stuff lately. Everything I do is just joyless, soulless. I'm starting to believe this is hell and that I'm stuck here for good. I've been exploited too many times to trust anyone. I've been betrayed and misled and I wallow in seemingly permanent ignorance. Nothing makes any sort of sense to me anymore.
Tonight I'm nursing a sick rabbit. I don't know how he got sick but I know I'm doing a bad job of taking care of him. He didn't do anything to deserve the pain he is in, and part of me knows it's my fault. I have these disturbing visions of hurting him in terrible ways. I don't know where these thoughts are coming from, but now I see that they are manifesting in physical reality. I have been struggling with these kinds of thoughts for a long time but now they are coming to a peak and I feel like they are going to destroy my soul. I don't know what to do. It's just a general aesthetic of uncontrollably violating something innocent and beautiful, killing the only thing in this world that I really love. It's devastating. (edit: in the time that it took me to write this, he seems to have recovered. He had been shifting around as if he had abdominal pain, a sign of a fatal illness in rabbits called gastrointestinal stasis. He has returned to eating and drinking his water and lying comfortably. I am focusing my thoughts towards him on being healing as if it were a life and death situation.)
The last time I was in Georgia, I witnessed a collapse of my entire life. I was living in a house with 3 friends in Marietta. While I was there, one of my friends was given too much acid and he went nuts. His family put him in a mental institution for a couple of weeks. I needed my friends to drive me to and from work which was 15 miles away so they became annoyed with me. My friend who had been committed decided to not renew the lease and move in with his mom which left the rest of us with a month to find a new place. I had been interested in working on a farm for a while and thought this was a good opportunity to do it. But at the same time I was incredibly nervous about it. As in, mortally terrified. It was a huge difference from everything I was used to. My 2 housemates had found a place on their own without asking me if I wanted to move in. They had become fed up with me needing them to drive me around so they left me to fend for myself with no resources, no money, no car, and no more friends to depend on. Two nights after the water had been turned off in our house, I managed to contact my best friend from elementary school who is in college as an art student. He let me spend the night at his house. But we spent that night taking the longest walk I've ever taken, never getting tired, and we talked about everything in the world. I had left a voicemail on the phone of the owner of the only farm that wasn't 100 miles away. By slim chance, he had called me back at 8 in the morning the next day. I had negotiated with him to let me move in that day.
I had moved in later that day. The program involved working on a farm, and they provide shelter and food. There was only one other volunteer there when I had moved in. His name was Victor. He was a middle-aged gay alcoholic with HIV and his mother was dying of cancer. He was incredibly depressed and chose to live in a sweltering room in the barn. I chose to live in what was to become a house for the volunteer workers - an abandoned farm house, its hardwood floors torn out, the whole thing left in shambles from people coming in and taking things from it for the 4 years that it had been desolate and uninhabited. The third night I was there I was beginning to withdraw from cigarettes from the first time, and fully realized the shock of what had transpired in the past week. As I lie in my makeshift bed composed of blankets on a dirty floor, I felt invisible mosquitoes landing and biting, landing and biting. I had no fan and the heat was unbearable. I snapped and left the house and walked down the long, rocky driveway to the street. I had planned on finding an isolated place to slit my wrists. I had no idea where I was, it was a completely new area to me. I wanted to get lost. I just walked and walked until I realized what a coward I am. I found my way back to the farm. Somehow I slept that night. The next morning, I made no mention of my journey into utter darkness.
Life as a worker drone could have been worse. When Victor's mother died, his alcoholism possessed him completely. He refused to work and I lost whatever motivation I had to work. He eventually got into a fight with the owner of the farm, attacking him with an empty vodka bottle. He was immediately booted off of the farm and went to live on an illegal chicken farm. Earlier this year, that chicken farm exploded. Literally. The whole thing went up in a huge explosion. Completely unexplained.
I met some really nice people who were passing through America using the farming program to move around. Most significant to me were two swedish girls who were both a year younger than me. Two days before they had come to my farm, they had taken acid for the first time together in New Orleans. That aesthetic had stayed with them. They were deep, artistic and highly intelligent, like no one I had ever met before. One of them, I fell deeply in love with. She was tall, beautiful and had the most amazing eyes. The two of them were only set to stay for four days. I looked deeply into her eyes as she walked off into the night never to return, and I had never told her how I felt. So it goes. I will always remember them.
After they left, nothing was the same. Their arrival and stay was the peak of my experience there. Then began the downward spiral.
A Jehovah's Witness from california, a girl of 18 who was travelling across the world on a bicycle, came to our farm. She stayed for a month. The first night she was at the farm, she and I and another volunteer from Brazil slept in a frozen room with one electric heater. It was 12 degrees that night. There was frost on the inside of the windows. It was symbolic of the hell which was about to ensue. This frigid sleepytime continued for a week. Soon after she arrived (and soon after I realized she was insane, having caused several religious arguments with the owners of the farm, calling them "swine" and telling them they were going to hell) we received 5 more people - a couple from China and 3 friends from Texas. 8 in all in an abandoned house that I had fixed up on my own. She managed to convert the Chinese people to Jehovah's Witnesses after brainwashing them night after night. One of the people from Texas introduced me to Yerba Mate, for which I will always be grateful. The jehovah's witness drove me absolutely nuts. After the others had left, it was just her and I. And she was very, very annoying. She had the mind of a child and I did not see her off when she finally left.
After she left, I was there alone. I had started talking with my ex-girlfriend again, having forgiven her for breaking my heart for the 3rd time. What a mistake. I began regularly playing music with the friends who had left me in the dust months before. I was feeling forgiving, refreshed from my experiences with interesting (if not crazy) strangers. Quitting cigarettes and only eating organic, homecooked meals made me feel better than I ever had after eating nothing but microwave dinners and fast food and guzzling caffeinated soda my entire life. I was reading books regularly, finally. The only thing I could complain about was that I was not being paid. I had no money whatsoever. But it really didn't matter, considering I was getting plenty of sunshine and waking up early to do fulfilling work in the fresh air. Things were getting to be great for me, something I had never experienced. Then I began finding psilocybin mushrooms in the large pile of horse bedding that I had cleaned out of the barn with the two swedish girls. I did enough research to find out that they were Panaeolus Cinctulus mushrooms. This was an odd opportunity. The people who owned the farm were religious and not drug-friendly. So I had to keep this on top-secret status. It became troubling to me that I had to hide something from them. The morning after a tornado had passed through, a day after the deadly tornadoes in Alabama that were all over the news, I found a good-sized flush of these mushrooms. I took them to my room, being as super secret as possible. That night I ate them. I didn't really feel anything at first, then I realized I felt like a cotton ball and was being sucked into the patterns in my straw hat. I gazed out into the sunset and watched Trees: The Movie.
Things changed after this experience. Victor returned to the farm, much to my surprise. He had nowhere else to go and had lessened his alcohol intake. But I was much less willing to judge him as I did before. We became friends. Around this time, my work was becoming harder with less return. I was used to wheelbarrowing 200+ pounds of soil uphill for 3 hours a a day every day for weeks on end. But then it became time to keep the overabundance of plants on the farm watered, which was my job. Our water was coming from a well, which frequently ran out due to the owner's wife doing 3 or 4 loads of laundry every day. She was obsessive compulsive, a nurse and a neat freak. She worked at a hospital and paid all the bills. The owner of the farm had worked as a CFO for a big electrical company for years but had quit his high-paying job to go into farming. He lost most of his money on a bad lease for a nicer looking farm up the road. They were hoarders, keeping every single thing they had ever owned. The barn was a terrible mess, it was their storage space and they lived in a tiny loft above it. Him, his wife, his mother, and their 2 sons. They had a maid from El Salvador, a very nice woman, clean their house, take care of the baby, brew a special drink they had created, do their ridiculous amount of laundry and cook 90% of the food that they and I ate.
The laundry thing was getting out of hand. I could only water plants for 5 minutes at a time before having to let the well re-fill (if it ever did). This was 5 minutes at a time every 30 minutes to water 280 beds of plants. Extremely tedious, to the point of insanity. They began blaming me for plants not getting watered. I became less and less willing to do it. I talked to Victor about the problems I had with the family and he was no stranger to their idiosyncracies. Having his support made me realize that I was not alone in my perceptions and I stopped working altogether. The plants I had raised to be big and strong died as no one took care of them and no one in the family communicated with me. They stopped bringing food to my house and I had to eat Victor's food that he bought from the grocery store. It was very unnerving to live in this house on their property and not have any contact with them. Victor left after about a month of my refusal to work. Around this time I cut off my ex as on her bi-annual vacation she had hooked up with her acid dealer "boyfriend" from 2007 in canada and had ignored me completely for the 3 weeks that she was gone, after months of us rebuilding our friendship and me falling in love with her again. It was really a far more traumatizing experience for me than I am willing to get into here but understand that it contributed to the dreadful atmosphere of the ensuing events.
Things got really uncomfortable. I was not talking to them, and they were not talking to me. My dad sent me about 100 dollars a month (this began at about 200 and moved down about 50 dollars each month) without knowing of my situation and I was able to walk to the grocery store every week to buy the cheapest food I could find. I can't really explain what this was like, to live unwanted in an abandoned house, in constant fear that they would kick me out any moment, having nowhere to go. This lasted for months. Months. It was my own personal hell. I had all the space I had ever wanted, but in completely nauseating circumstances. Near the end of each month I would start to run out of money to buy food. I would panic. I would starve myself to conserve what little food I had. I never knew when my dad was going to send more money. It was completely by chance (and completely unlike him) that he had decided to send me any money at all, much less on a regular basis. My formerly comfortable room became a strange, dissonant prison cell. My walks to the grocery store became silent trips through inner torture chambers as I spent my last few cents on a pack of ramen noodles that was supposed to last me longer than it ever could. I had to pretend everything was fine for my friends who I played music with on the weekends. I don't know why, I just had to keep my stupid, selfish pride. They couldn't have helped me anyway.
I realized true loneliness. True despair. True loss. It was terror. It was a slow, banal churning of gears of doom. It was almost christmas and my dad had mentioned something about flying me out to Michigan to stay with my family for a week. I called him about it and told him I was in bad shape. He drove down and picked me up and took me away.
It was very hard for me to recall these events. I had pushed a lot of these memories aside until tonight.
Tonight I'm nursing a sick rabbit. I don't know how he got sick but I know I'm doing a bad job of taking care of him. He didn't do anything to deserve the pain he is in, and part of me knows it's my fault. I have these disturbing visions of hurting him in terrible ways. I don't know where these thoughts are coming from, but now I see that they are manifesting in physical reality. I have been struggling with these kinds of thoughts for a long time but now they are coming to a peak and I feel like they are going to destroy my soul. I don't know what to do. It's just a general aesthetic of uncontrollably violating something innocent and beautiful, killing the only thing in this world that I really love. It's devastating. (edit: in the time that it took me to write this, he seems to have recovered. He had been shifting around as if he had abdominal pain, a sign of a fatal illness in rabbits called gastrointestinal stasis. He has returned to eating and drinking his water and lying comfortably. I am focusing my thoughts towards him on being healing as if it were a life and death situation.)
The last time I was in Georgia, I witnessed a collapse of my entire life. I was living in a house with 3 friends in Marietta. While I was there, one of my friends was given too much acid and he went nuts. His family put him in a mental institution for a couple of weeks. I needed my friends to drive me to and from work which was 15 miles away so they became annoyed with me. My friend who had been committed decided to not renew the lease and move in with his mom which left the rest of us with a month to find a new place. I had been interested in working on a farm for a while and thought this was a good opportunity to do it. But at the same time I was incredibly nervous about it. As in, mortally terrified. It was a huge difference from everything I was used to. My 2 housemates had found a place on their own without asking me if I wanted to move in. They had become fed up with me needing them to drive me around so they left me to fend for myself with no resources, no money, no car, and no more friends to depend on. Two nights after the water had been turned off in our house, I managed to contact my best friend from elementary school who is in college as an art student. He let me spend the night at his house. But we spent that night taking the longest walk I've ever taken, never getting tired, and we talked about everything in the world. I had left a voicemail on the phone of the owner of the only farm that wasn't 100 miles away. By slim chance, he had called me back at 8 in the morning the next day. I had negotiated with him to let me move in that day.
I had moved in later that day. The program involved working on a farm, and they provide shelter and food. There was only one other volunteer there when I had moved in. His name was Victor. He was a middle-aged gay alcoholic with HIV and his mother was dying of cancer. He was incredibly depressed and chose to live in a sweltering room in the barn. I chose to live in what was to become a house for the volunteer workers - an abandoned farm house, its hardwood floors torn out, the whole thing left in shambles from people coming in and taking things from it for the 4 years that it had been desolate and uninhabited. The third night I was there I was beginning to withdraw from cigarettes from the first time, and fully realized the shock of what had transpired in the past week. As I lie in my makeshift bed composed of blankets on a dirty floor, I felt invisible mosquitoes landing and biting, landing and biting. I had no fan and the heat was unbearable. I snapped and left the house and walked down the long, rocky driveway to the street. I had planned on finding an isolated place to slit my wrists. I had no idea where I was, it was a completely new area to me. I wanted to get lost. I just walked and walked until I realized what a coward I am. I found my way back to the farm. Somehow I slept that night. The next morning, I made no mention of my journey into utter darkness.
Life as a worker drone could have been worse. When Victor's mother died, his alcoholism possessed him completely. He refused to work and I lost whatever motivation I had to work. He eventually got into a fight with the owner of the farm, attacking him with an empty vodka bottle. He was immediately booted off of the farm and went to live on an illegal chicken farm. Earlier this year, that chicken farm exploded. Literally. The whole thing went up in a huge explosion. Completely unexplained.
I met some really nice people who were passing through America using the farming program to move around. Most significant to me were two swedish girls who were both a year younger than me. Two days before they had come to my farm, they had taken acid for the first time together in New Orleans. That aesthetic had stayed with them. They were deep, artistic and highly intelligent, like no one I had ever met before. One of them, I fell deeply in love with. She was tall, beautiful and had the most amazing eyes. The two of them were only set to stay for four days. I looked deeply into her eyes as she walked off into the night never to return, and I had never told her how I felt. So it goes. I will always remember them.
After they left, nothing was the same. Their arrival and stay was the peak of my experience there. Then began the downward spiral.
A Jehovah's Witness from california, a girl of 18 who was travelling across the world on a bicycle, came to our farm. She stayed for a month. The first night she was at the farm, she and I and another volunteer from Brazil slept in a frozen room with one electric heater. It was 12 degrees that night. There was frost on the inside of the windows. It was symbolic of the hell which was about to ensue. This frigid sleepytime continued for a week. Soon after she arrived (and soon after I realized she was insane, having caused several religious arguments with the owners of the farm, calling them "swine" and telling them they were going to hell) we received 5 more people - a couple from China and 3 friends from Texas. 8 in all in an abandoned house that I had fixed up on my own. She managed to convert the Chinese people to Jehovah's Witnesses after brainwashing them night after night. One of the people from Texas introduced me to Yerba Mate, for which I will always be grateful. The jehovah's witness drove me absolutely nuts. After the others had left, it was just her and I. And she was very, very annoying. She had the mind of a child and I did not see her off when she finally left.
After she left, I was there alone. I had started talking with my ex-girlfriend again, having forgiven her for breaking my heart for the 3rd time. What a mistake. I began regularly playing music with the friends who had left me in the dust months before. I was feeling forgiving, refreshed from my experiences with interesting (if not crazy) strangers. Quitting cigarettes and only eating organic, homecooked meals made me feel better than I ever had after eating nothing but microwave dinners and fast food and guzzling caffeinated soda my entire life. I was reading books regularly, finally. The only thing I could complain about was that I was not being paid. I had no money whatsoever. But it really didn't matter, considering I was getting plenty of sunshine and waking up early to do fulfilling work in the fresh air. Things were getting to be great for me, something I had never experienced. Then I began finding psilocybin mushrooms in the large pile of horse bedding that I had cleaned out of the barn with the two swedish girls. I did enough research to find out that they were Panaeolus Cinctulus mushrooms. This was an odd opportunity. The people who owned the farm were religious and not drug-friendly. So I had to keep this on top-secret status. It became troubling to me that I had to hide something from them. The morning after a tornado had passed through, a day after the deadly tornadoes in Alabama that were all over the news, I found a good-sized flush of these mushrooms. I took them to my room, being as super secret as possible. That night I ate them. I didn't really feel anything at first, then I realized I felt like a cotton ball and was being sucked into the patterns in my straw hat. I gazed out into the sunset and watched Trees: The Movie.
Things changed after this experience. Victor returned to the farm, much to my surprise. He had nowhere else to go and had lessened his alcohol intake. But I was much less willing to judge him as I did before. We became friends. Around this time, my work was becoming harder with less return. I was used to wheelbarrowing 200+ pounds of soil uphill for 3 hours a a day every day for weeks on end. But then it became time to keep the overabundance of plants on the farm watered, which was my job. Our water was coming from a well, which frequently ran out due to the owner's wife doing 3 or 4 loads of laundry every day. She was obsessive compulsive, a nurse and a neat freak. She worked at a hospital and paid all the bills. The owner of the farm had worked as a CFO for a big electrical company for years but had quit his high-paying job to go into farming. He lost most of his money on a bad lease for a nicer looking farm up the road. They were hoarders, keeping every single thing they had ever owned. The barn was a terrible mess, it was their storage space and they lived in a tiny loft above it. Him, his wife, his mother, and their 2 sons. They had a maid from El Salvador, a very nice woman, clean their house, take care of the baby, brew a special drink they had created, do their ridiculous amount of laundry and cook 90% of the food that they and I ate.
The laundry thing was getting out of hand. I could only water plants for 5 minutes at a time before having to let the well re-fill (if it ever did). This was 5 minutes at a time every 30 minutes to water 280 beds of plants. Extremely tedious, to the point of insanity. They began blaming me for plants not getting watered. I became less and less willing to do it. I talked to Victor about the problems I had with the family and he was no stranger to their idiosyncracies. Having his support made me realize that I was not alone in my perceptions and I stopped working altogether. The plants I had raised to be big and strong died as no one took care of them and no one in the family communicated with me. They stopped bringing food to my house and I had to eat Victor's food that he bought from the grocery store. It was very unnerving to live in this house on their property and not have any contact with them. Victor left after about a month of my refusal to work. Around this time I cut off my ex as on her bi-annual vacation she had hooked up with her acid dealer "boyfriend" from 2007 in canada and had ignored me completely for the 3 weeks that she was gone, after months of us rebuilding our friendship and me falling in love with her again. It was really a far more traumatizing experience for me than I am willing to get into here but understand that it contributed to the dreadful atmosphere of the ensuing events.
Things got really uncomfortable. I was not talking to them, and they were not talking to me. My dad sent me about 100 dollars a month (this began at about 200 and moved down about 50 dollars each month) without knowing of my situation and I was able to walk to the grocery store every week to buy the cheapest food I could find. I can't really explain what this was like, to live unwanted in an abandoned house, in constant fear that they would kick me out any moment, having nowhere to go. This lasted for months. Months. It was my own personal hell. I had all the space I had ever wanted, but in completely nauseating circumstances. Near the end of each month I would start to run out of money to buy food. I would panic. I would starve myself to conserve what little food I had. I never knew when my dad was going to send more money. It was completely by chance (and completely unlike him) that he had decided to send me any money at all, much less on a regular basis. My formerly comfortable room became a strange, dissonant prison cell. My walks to the grocery store became silent trips through inner torture chambers as I spent my last few cents on a pack of ramen noodles that was supposed to last me longer than it ever could. I had to pretend everything was fine for my friends who I played music with on the weekends. I don't know why, I just had to keep my stupid, selfish pride. They couldn't have helped me anyway.
I realized true loneliness. True despair. True loss. It was terror. It was a slow, banal churning of gears of doom. It was almost christmas and my dad had mentioned something about flying me out to Michigan to stay with my family for a week. I called him about it and told him I was in bad shape. He drove down and picked me up and took me away.
It was very hard for me to recall these events. I had pushed a lot of these memories aside until tonight.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Mercurial Shadow Play
I have to admit, writing is a bit of a chore for me these days. My mind is working in non-linear fashion and it's near impossible to express a thought that anyone besides myself can relate to. But I'll try anyway.
I have been enduring the throes of withdrawal these past few days. Cigarettes. They cloud my mind, numb me to any sort of dismay I may need to encounter to get myself off of a certain path. It's really not that bad getting off of them, it's just these crazy mood swings I get where I'll be perfectly fine one second and in absolute hell the next. I'm grappling with something inside of me that is inherently dark and violent. I can hear it whispering in my ear, giving suggestions, showing me terrible visions of things I cannot believe are somewhere within me. I know it's me, I know it's my shadow, but I am having a hard time dealing with it. Do I confront it? Do I run away as fast as I possibly can? I want to just avoid it, but it always catches up with me. I am in a constant struggle to replace these horrible visions with my true will, that of love. All I know is that, eventually, I must have enough courage to banish this entity from my soulspace for good. The problem with becoming "lighter" is the darker the shadows one casts become. On the surface of mind these images of pain inject themselves, these shadow beings in direct contrast to my inner light taking things I love and creating doubles and hurting them, a double of myself taking the violent action itself, not me but just something that looks like me....
They are dependent on me, they are feeding off of me like parasites. The fear that I feel when in their presence is incredible. I feel powerless, completely unable to stop this flow of soul-destroying blackness. I have experienced this my entire life, actually. The more I think about it, this is not a new phenomenon, I am just becoming more aware of it. The brighter I shine the more defined these shadows become in contrast to the surface, the closer my sun gets to the surface of being the better I can see how they move. But what is creating these shadows? What objects are casting them? Are they my own fears? I'm thinking about how movies are coordinated, colored shadows. How do I angle myself as to eliminate these shadows? Do I become more than one source of light? Do I illuminate everything at once? Thinking about our stream of thought, how it is that single light source, one thing at a time within the vastness of signals.
It's a sort of chess game. The only thing is, I suck at chess.
I realize though, that I'm not alone, no matter how isolated this being makes me feel. Below is a description of exactly what I'm going through.
The Dweller on the Threshold
"As delineated by gnostic author Samael Aun Weor the mind lives continuously reacting against the impact of the outside world. These feedbacks of appreciation depart from a demonic mental entity. This creature is the Guardian of the threshold of the human mental body . This mental custodian enslaves the mind of all human beings.
Violence, desires and passions, hatred, bitterness, egoism, wrath, envy, and slander are responses coming from the mental keeper, claims Weor. The body of wishes is nothing else but a temper device of the mind keeper. The true being is not the mind, the Being is the Being, says the Gnostic. If temporarily the disciple has dispossessed himself from his mind, he can talk with the guardian. Then, the mind seems to be an independent individual that sits in front of him. After this deep exploration, the devotee will be aware that his mind is a wild force, which he must overcome, command and direct. Depriving himself from this terrible sentinel allows transform his matter mind into Christ mind.
To succeed the spiritual practitioner works via the inner fire, asserts Weor. Awaking the igneous serpent of the mental body, it runs the spinal cord (the igneous wings) and then him daringly faces this dark beast and defeats it in an appalling wrestling match. As a consequence, after that moment, the mind of the spiritual practitioner only obeys the direct commands of the true self."
I realize though, that I'm not alone, no matter how isolated this being makes me feel. Below is a description of exactly what I'm going through.
The Dweller on the Threshold
"As delineated by gnostic author Samael Aun Weor the mind lives continuously reacting against the impact of the outside world. These feedbacks of appreciation depart from a demonic mental entity. This creature is the Guardian of the threshold of the human mental body . This mental custodian enslaves the mind of all human beings.
Violence, desires and passions, hatred, bitterness, egoism, wrath, envy, and slander are responses coming from the mental keeper, claims Weor. The body of wishes is nothing else but a temper device of the mind keeper. The true being is not the mind, the Being is the Being, says the Gnostic. If temporarily the disciple has dispossessed himself from his mind, he can talk with the guardian. Then, the mind seems to be an independent individual that sits in front of him. After this deep exploration, the devotee will be aware that his mind is a wild force, which he must overcome, command and direct. Depriving himself from this terrible sentinel allows transform his matter mind into Christ mind.
To succeed the spiritual practitioner works via the inner fire, asserts Weor. Awaking the igneous serpent of the mental body, it runs the spinal cord (the igneous wings) and then him daringly faces this dark beast and defeats it in an appalling wrestling match. As a consequence, after that moment, the mind of the spiritual practitioner only obeys the direct commands of the true self."
a protester meditates in the face of black-clad figures, 5/19
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Psycle
Initiate sequence
During meditative states we unlock access to an invisible world. Sure, you're still looking at the back of your eyelids, but something is different. Being and its limitations are transformed. Our transaction with the world around us is symbolic: We receive data, whatever we're tuned into, and apply symbolic association to whatever we are perceiving. Put (more) simply, we alone define the world around us. The only way to really approach this mode of interaction is to suspend all fear. Time is not linear, what you are focused on at the moment is your reality. So when you are tense or fearful, reflect on your stream of thought and really analyze it. It's all in your head. Literally. All of it. Everything you've ever perceived in this world has been through your brain and central nervous system. And who is to say that what you imagine is untrue? It's in your head just like everything else. You just have to reconfigure your maps to become who and what you really want to be. What we have on earth is a shared mind, a psychic interaction on all levels. But when we close our eyes we can break away and work on our own perception. It's pretty much a perfect environment for evolution.
Remember this - You are not incomplete. Everything you can possibly experience is within this interactive state. You are the key and the lock but both are always changing shape. The love you seek will be something you feel and share, an inner state potentially accessed through someone else. All you can know of other people is your impressions of them, your assumptions and mental associations. You can change your world as easily as you can change your mind. Self and environment are not separate, they are necessarily intertwined and entangled. There is no absolute reality map to subscribe to. You are entirely free to reposition your point of view to ascend all obstacles. But you are the one who has to make that decision.
What does this have to do with Sync? Everything. When synchronicity occurs within my own perception, I see the unity between my mind and my environment. Everything is a symbolic data transaction, I receive and immediately (quicker than lightning) transmit an association into the vortex. I am not simply receiving a data transfer, I am editing the information in real-time. Time is the process of our primitive mammalian forms adjusting to being God. Like adjusting to a cold swimming pool.
It is far more of a significant thought to me to assume that I know nothing of the world around me than to assume that I know everything about it, much less know everything about myself. We tend to substitute our word for things in place of perceiving the actual thing itself. It takes a lot of reflection to realize one is actively creating their thoughts, their associations, their reactions. We have a symbolic array collected over the course of our lives and after a certain point we tend to not "update" our ArcHives to correctly interpret the constant flow of information. We create cycles, bubbles of information streams that no longer bring in significant information but reaffirm our long-held doubts and expectations. These create a negative feedback loop making it harder for us to evolve.
I guess the point I'm trying to express is, don't stick with one model for too long. Always consider that you may be entirely wrong, because information cannot be received unless you are open to having your database configured.
During meditative states we unlock access to an invisible world. Sure, you're still looking at the back of your eyelids, but something is different. Being and its limitations are transformed. Our transaction with the world around us is symbolic: We receive data, whatever we're tuned into, and apply symbolic association to whatever we are perceiving. Put (more) simply, we alone define the world around us. The only way to really approach this mode of interaction is to suspend all fear. Time is not linear, what you are focused on at the moment is your reality. So when you are tense or fearful, reflect on your stream of thought and really analyze it. It's all in your head. Literally. All of it. Everything you've ever perceived in this world has been through your brain and central nervous system. And who is to say that what you imagine is untrue? It's in your head just like everything else. You just have to reconfigure your maps to become who and what you really want to be. What we have on earth is a shared mind, a psychic interaction on all levels. But when we close our eyes we can break away and work on our own perception. It's pretty much a perfect environment for evolution.
Remember this - You are not incomplete. Everything you can possibly experience is within this interactive state. You are the key and the lock but both are always changing shape. The love you seek will be something you feel and share, an inner state potentially accessed through someone else. All you can know of other people is your impressions of them, your assumptions and mental associations. You can change your world as easily as you can change your mind. Self and environment are not separate, they are necessarily intertwined and entangled. There is no absolute reality map to subscribe to. You are entirely free to reposition your point of view to ascend all obstacles. But you are the one who has to make that decision.
What does this have to do with Sync? Everything. When synchronicity occurs within my own perception, I see the unity between my mind and my environment. Everything is a symbolic data transaction, I receive and immediately (quicker than lightning) transmit an association into the vortex. I am not simply receiving a data transfer, I am editing the information in real-time. Time is the process of our primitive mammalian forms adjusting to being God. Like adjusting to a cold swimming pool.
It is far more of a significant thought to me to assume that I know nothing of the world around me than to assume that I know everything about it, much less know everything about myself. We tend to substitute our word for things in place of perceiving the actual thing itself. It takes a lot of reflection to realize one is actively creating their thoughts, their associations, their reactions. We have a symbolic array collected over the course of our lives and after a certain point we tend to not "update" our ArcHives to correctly interpret the constant flow of information. We create cycles, bubbles of information streams that no longer bring in significant information but reaffirm our long-held doubts and expectations. These create a negative feedback loop making it harder for us to evolve.
I guess the point I'm trying to express is, don't stick with one model for too long. Always consider that you may be entirely wrong, because information cannot be received unless you are open to having your database configured.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Rebirth
It's been a long time since I've updated this blog regularly. I just got a new laptop, so I plan on posting more often. I really don't want to return to my old style of posting crappy news items, it's just not interesting to me anymore. So give me some time to get my groove back. A lot of people are doing really cool things with their blogs and I want to be worthy of sharing that space. I think my biggest flaw concerning this blog is totally half-baked ideas. I just can't seem to get everything I want to express into one stream of thought. I think it's because I rush to get things out. I'm not the most patient person in the world and it is tough for me to really perfect something before presenting it. I just lose interest so quickly. I can't even finish this post.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
42% of American adults will be obese by 2030
42% of American adults will be obese by 2030
Yes, this post is a throwback to how I used to do my blog: stumble upon stories containing syncs on news aggregators and repost them here. The content of the story is usually insignificant in the context of Sync but the number 42 jumps out at me many times during the day. I had been having a strange slew of Food related syncs for the past few months and I believe this ties in. William Klaus has attached himself unconsciously to my food thread with his post "MSG on the brain". In this post he finds the "antidote" to the effects of MSG to be Taurine, which relates to Taurus, our current Sun Sign.
Yes, this post is a throwback to how I used to do my blog: stumble upon stories containing syncs on news aggregators and repost them here. The content of the story is usually insignificant in the context of Sync but the number 42 jumps out at me many times during the day. I had been having a strange slew of Food related syncs for the past few months and I believe this ties in. William Klaus has attached himself unconsciously to my food thread with his post "MSG on the brain". In this post he finds the "antidote" to the effects of MSG to be Taurine, which relates to Taurus, our current Sun Sign.
In other food news, the formula for Coca Cola was discovered on this day in 1886.
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Bow (tension released, arrow in flight)
Arrow Up
B.O. and Bo ("bow wow" - Aferrismoon)
subtle arrow in A of Avengers
Arc Bow-t
Trajectory Ark
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