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posted on Apr, 27 2008 @ 09:03 PM
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Maybe cars were made to rid the evidence of fossil fuels. Perhaps technology is an alien using Humanity to spread itself. If the world is a circuit board, are we the energy traveling through the traces? Are we the cow or the mushroom? Are Masons more like Nazis or Ninjas? Could movies be a legal trip- directing us to have specified visuals? I don't know, damn it. But, I do know that the great puppeteer is a sad fellow that can't act in his own play. Would you like to meet him? It's simple...- Just cut your strings.

"I now ascend the stage of the world of which previously I have been a spectator, but I come forward wearing a mask." -Descartes

=Mobius




posted on Apr, 27 2008 @ 09:07 PM
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the reason no one will meet the puppeteer is because you are all lost and hopeless without you strings,

the ability to cut them is one step closer, but its like escaping from a jail in a country extremely vast of which you have never even heard of before.



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 01:24 PM
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reply to post by tankthinker
 


You think the creator of the universe is lost and hopeless? Personally- I think we are born sane, but the puppet strings of the ego-identity forces us crazy as we go along. Actually it is the few who have cut their strings that have found themselves free. And the vast country analogy doesn't really hold water; If you truly have no identity, then you are no longer subjected. There are two things going on in the big picture of reality. There is god. There is EVERYTHING ELSE. The two cannot exist in the same place. If one were to commit ego death and leave one's subjected identity, the very thought of the idea of the word "vast" would be too infantile to bother contemplating.



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:28 PM
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I used to blabber on about Linear Regression and Frequency Histograms of Kabalistic principles back in the day.. Of course, I Was on LOTS of drugs at the time... Now, stuck in the electrical dance of the Terra resonance, it just doesn't have the same... "je ne sais quoi"

Pavement cuts through country side like grass stampeded by the Herd. Mailboxes stuffed with junk stink like pharamone clouds left behind by lonely cows. The satellite dishes sprout from trailers like shrooms from a pile of sh*t.



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:29 PM
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I pondered upon the stealthy outbursts of these small breasts. Those red rockets like tiny dicks. a human-organic satellite. Perhaps, originally, We constructed them to send out and find a life form that responded to human sexual organs. Or have they evolved to us specifically? A spore casing can withstand atmospheric entry and space travel. McKenna says mycelium produces the mushrooms as a recreational organ that is dedicated to sex, thrills, and sunbathing. It almost makes me sad to pick them...

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:31 PM
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"When your tripping, the bathroom breathes heavier than you do. When you doodoo." -Danny



Non-plethoral shines like you and those rotten, stinking, filthy few. Suck that cracker. Ride the pue. Drink that bloody grapejuice too. Quote your word, sing a tune. Fret your nasty pink box bloom. Quite the floral. Crown the moon. Plastic people, meat cartoon.

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:33 PM
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The merging of nameless, faceless figures in the confines of a networked infinity. I don't know if that's where it all starts, but that's where it went. Collection. Correlation. Correction.

Recreation. After I came down, I "saw" things differently. I managed to discern the energy from the air. It surrounds you and everything else. Did you know that there are two of you?

Breathe. Its ok. You're just trapped in the human condition. I've been here so long that I forgot why I came.

Perhaps, then, I came to forget.

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:34 PM
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The Light Sages gather to flicker the screen

Day turns to night, and dawn it seems

Creeps out from nowhere surprising me

The change takes place imperceptibly,

But the program downloads incorrectly.

I attempt to maintain my gravity

As I slip through a glitch into eternity.

The White Darkness appears in front of me

And every sound encompassing.

I'm brought back quite suddenly;

With the noise settling back to reality.

The choice was not mine, you see

As it was on Robo & '___'.

There's some kind of Audience behind me

Projecting Earth like imagery.

Their opinion aids a directory

For my character in this Man story.

I know of them by experiencing

Seven times Salvia potency.

I took a big hit, and then astoundingly,

A pulse ran through my body.

I saw this pulse quite clearly

Distorting the dreamlike mirroring.

These mirrors define the boundary

Of actors and the viewing.

As I'm filled with ancient memory,

I glance around self consciously.

For a brief moment I honestly

Saw inumerous beings witnessing

My own theatrical tragedy

Of a God imprisoned subjectively.

Who'd've know I was actually

A Huge Hit on Alien T.V.?

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:36 PM
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Salvia D./N2O

Experiments. Harmonies. A Colour Wheel. Pulsating with the very language of reality. A Fan. Multi-Dimensional and fairly musical. Turning with every thought. The first gear. Primary colors, basic. Counter-clockwise. like music. Time has slowed, so there is no future. There is only the next rotation. Of the One gear that began it all. Another thought- it gains speed. Complexity. Resolution. Reality. Linguistic Melody... Life

=Mobius


As to the power of the mind (in whatever manner you view it)- I wonder... This conquering of fear. The Game... Divinity; the quest of finding and forgetting- The need for air. The thirst for cognition. I can only hope the explanations grow and expand. The larger the bonfire, the more forest you can see... The only salvation is creation. The only absolution...

Ineffability...

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:40 PM
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Geooorggge... these people are scaring me! Can I tend the rabbits now. I promise I won't pet them to hard.



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:40 PM
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The Hagakure states- "The way is not an unvarying way."


"Look back into history, and of all the ideal-driven social movements, you will not find one which has succeeded. Society, the ministers and politicians, the idealists, they don't want you to become free, because if you should become free, you won't any longer pay attention to them, and the power they seek as a replacement for not being happy themselves will fade. "

[Bluehoney.org seems to not work, so just search yahoo for- "Dangerous Book Roger Stephens"]

Seriously, everyone should read this.

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:42 PM
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"What's So Great About Consciousness?"

The initial excerpt- 'Compared to the glorious attributes of the human mind, its capacity for imagining and creating magnificent and sublime thoughts, the silent microphone of consciousness seems almost bland, hardly worthy of mention. It has no age, no sex, no color, mood, or morality; it has no attributes whatsoever. One reason we overlook it is because it isn't exciting, its nature is beyond the bounds of conceptual thinking.'

The conclusion is secondary to the process of understanding, so I shall only quote the beginning of chapter 6. READ IT.

Not many people catch the "blue honey" title. That's the principle attribute of the psilocybin osmosis that occurs when the "Flesh of the Gods" is preserved in honey. Before dehydration or refrigeration there was honey. Before society, materialism, and religion was the Mushroom. (Certain modern translations of the original Dead Sea Scrolls by Hebrew scholars have attained that the figure Jesus Christ was simply nomenclature for the Stropharia Cubensis mushroom.)

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:46 PM
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Someone once asked me what Time was. If only I could have answered that properly. I have my own theories, of course, but that doesn't quite explain opportunities lost and life in the Moment.

I'll tell you what time is. It is division. It separates us. Without time we are together- We are I.

Although time is necessary, I wish to bend it. The past is gone. But, as we fully examine the present, past and future meld into a window of epoch. And we are once again together.

=Mobius


The question of whether or not this reality can be taken seriously is easily answered with the accumulation of a few bills... Oh well. Sleep it off. Early wake. Go to work. Go home. Sleep it off...

Novelty escapes me- in contradiction of which, I shall submit this post.

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 04:50 PM
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"If everything is coming your way, you may be in the wrong lane." -Garrison Kiellor

"I've stared God in the face, and guess what? He blinked." -Primal Rage

So, when I think about manipulations of energy, the thought comes to mind that it would be proportionally equivalent to learning algebra- An abstract set of rules that only makes sense if the foundation is solid. And, therefore, the evolution of thought would simply be a series of realizations. The fact that I remain on this level tells me that either my realizations are wrong, or there is something far greater, and much more basic that I've missed. Either way, the game is just starting, and I'm finally getting warmed up...

=Mobius



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 06:27 PM
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you obviously misinterpreted my post

i don't have time to explain on this thread



posted on Apr, 28 2008 @ 10:11 PM
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reply to post by tankthinker
 


"Time is an illusion. Lunchtime; doubly so!"
-Douglas Adams

I am so open minded things frequently fall out of my ear, I'm so hip I have trouble walking. If I have misinterpreted a post then by all means feel free to explain what is being 'lost in translation.' But, to make a post to tell me you don't have time to make a post... Rather redundant sir.

This thread is dedicated to ideas. You either don't have any, or don't want to put them here. Either way- I'm sure you have much better things to do with your time(whatever 'time' may be 2u).

On a lighter note- It has been almost 7 years since my last transcendental awakening into the source of all creation. And it might just be time to do it again.... That's right kids.

He's goin' back...

=Mobius



posted on May, 4 2008 @ 08:31 AM
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Originally posted by Mobiusaxiom
But, I do know that the great puppeteer is a sad fellow that can't act in his own play. Would you like to meet him? It's simple...- Just cut your strings.


"[...]I disperse the insane folk of the earth; I walk alone with my little puppets in the garden.
I am Gargantuan great; yon galaxy is but the smoke-ring of mine incense.
Burn Thou strange herbs, O God!
Brew me a magic liquor, boys, with your glances!
The very soul is drunken.
[...]The Universe reels; Thou hast looked upon it.
Twice, and all is done.
Come, O my God, and let us embrace!
[...]There shall be an End.
O God! O God!
[...]Sleep, take me! Death, take me! This life is too full; it pains, it slays, it suffices.
Let me go back into the world; yea, back into the world."

- Liber VII, II:37-53

[edit on 4-5-2008 by DCXVI]

[edit on 4-5-2008 by DCXVI]



posted on May, 4 2008 @ 08:58 AM
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Originally posted by Mobiusaxiom
Breathe. Its ok. You're just trapped in the human condition. I've been here so long that I forgot why I came.

Perhaps, then, I came to forget.


"There was a maiden that strayed among the corn, and sighed; then grew a new birth, a narcissus, and therein she forgot her sighing and her loneliness.
Even instantly rode Hades heavily upon her, and ravished her away."

- Liber LXV, I:47-48

[edit on 4-5-2008 by DCXVI]



posted on May, 9 2008 @ 06:12 PM
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reply to post by DCXVI
 


Are we the individual ends of a root system? Maybe we are not "worms" as Grant Morrison would have it, but the struggling tendrils of a collective human "plant?" The plant may or may not be growing backwards. There IS a reverberation of events. pay attention! those who know will understand.

Picture a sunflower in a tall box. looking upward toward the sun. Beside it is another box with another flower. on every side of it is another box and another flower. An an entire planet-sized sphere completely covered by individuals ever-struggling upward to some ineffable goal. Watered and cared for in some extra dimensional garden. Wet; always wet. humid. the retinal circus is upon the face of the waters. The machine is behind you. THEY are behind you. They are always there, because they exist in some timeless place. This time-sequence is a dream. It DOES NOT EXIST. There is a greater, MUCH greater reality out there. There is no death for us in this place. this is an audition to join them in their world!!! The DO NOT want you to break character, They do not want me to post this. I am encountering difficulty. I think I'll wrap it up.

[edit on 9-5-2008 by Mobiusaxiom]



posted on May, 10 2008 @ 07:37 PM
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Originally posted by Mobiusaxiom
[...]There is no death for us in this place[...]


"Ah! Ah! Death! Death! thou shalt long for death. Death is forbidden, o man, unto thee." - Liber L. II:73

616



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