cool note: neuralblender.com is an ai which generated the art on the cover image. The keywords used to generate it were “light dragon annunaki”. take that as you will!
Isn’t it weird how cool the imagination of these creative types are?
Outside of the circles of time, the visionaries and artists of our species have fantastic sensitivity – they come back from reverie with the collective motherlode of human symbols in tow (if they are especially good, that is).
Oh, sometimes you wonder, “how do people come up with this stuff”? Or DO people come up with stuff? The creative gift is actually the opposite when you see it strong enough to be called genius, it seems. A genius does not come up with a masterwork; a masterwork comes up with a genius.
Genius comes from genii after all; it’s best to keep in mind that even if you were the lucky golden goose to rub the magic lamp, your three wishes are a jackpot with several strings attached. The genii of the genius emerges from the magic lamp within the seeker’s soul, even the seeker who knows not he may have been salted and peppered with a certain sort of magic.
The genii comes out of the mouth and the heart and the crown above the eye, three wishes yes, but I’m afraid it does not go back in the bottle nor stay on a leash, it doesn’t nibble kibble and won’t respond to “heel”.
Also, it may leave roses buried in your wishes hoping you will bask in their elegance, not realizing that human hands are wont to seize the treasure with both arms before appreciating the artistry of the treasure chest. Genius, unknowning of its own source, occassionally finds itself with bubbles of blood forming of pricked skin, having seen not the gift of flowers nor the warning of thorns.
The genii emerges from the artist, the mystic visionary and shaman, the LSD trips of Francis Crick as he allowed the double helix to pour squarely out of his forehead and swirl in synchrony like serpents. The genii emerges from beyond the circles of time, the genii remains untamed and it cannot be called loyal. The genii of genius is simply looking to meet its match, that is why it only emerges to deliver impossible wishes to those whom share the same wishes as it.
A wish emerges from behind the portal of daath, but that doesn’t mean it comes with a key to Isis’ window curtain.
A wish emerges from the throat of some stars as they sing in harmonies that echo the sphere’s faint pulsating gyrating dance in the heavens, but the wish does not drop The Lost Word on her tongue even as cerebrus is soothed in sound slumber and the crowd roars and clamours.
A wish emerges from jeanne d’ark even as she burns, because in her heart is a flame potent beyond kilojoules, and thus it shines so brightly she feels no burn, having been on fire in a far more significant way – for timespans that may range from years to weeks but may as well be eternal in mere moments.
some geniuses gleam brighter than history’s eraser as it rubs and rubs and rubs away at the etched markings of both mountains and men. Perhaps the product of this unceasing effort is a smudged word, a name with bent letters and deeds that all recall, but no face to attach to that timeless capstone.
some geniuses are shorn from stone tablets before their names are ever known, the genii of their emerald spirit embedded in the ratios of every mitotic division.
some names for genius have long since sunk into the sea, their fragmented fossils glimmering with a gleam so unmistakably invaluable that the Little Mermaid Ariel received each and every one into her hidden grotto, and to this day her father Poseidon has never entered there.
there are genii that reside so deep in the recesses of space that even immortality would allow us enough time to travel there. but when those geniis wish to travel to us, living at the border patrol of our universe’s terminal boundry presents no quandary of distance. the geniuses have no names and they are not capable of lightspeed travel, they have never known the concept of movement because they always arrive at the royal arch centuries before it was born in the dreamscape of its inevitable architect.
it is not so that some are duly chosen, it is not so that some are singled out for the honor of a bejeweled and thorny box, and it is not true that every wish carries with it a splinter that infects helping hands with the prophecy of a Midas touch. Aladdin didn’t enter the lottery of the cosmos when he decided to search for the magic lamp, and he did not encounter the cave which housed that genii by a stroke of luck.
Like every replica of our cells houses the nucleus of its organism in the same helical strands, each shining eye at the edge of the galaxy awaits a human heart to swing open the double doors of fortune’s palace. The geniuses who have broken into the palace of fate are few and have gone by a few phrases,
for example “The Thief in the Night”, and “The Once and Future King”, except this is not a prophecy reserved only for the singular Arthur Pendragon.
Fate’s Palace, and the illustrious pen, are for anybody with the will to arrive, and said seekers would have to find the train which travels straight through the trunk of yggsdrasil and then off the tracks of the wheel of fortune itself. this is so tricky that the freemasons, rosicrucians, and templars all lost the word they needed use.
Miss Fortune as the watcher of the watcher of the watchers and the author of the authors, is thoroughly passive on her island of Aeons at the eye of the Ouroboros. If a Thief in the Night does find a way inside her palace, it is said she is generally already awaiting them with refreshments long before they have opened the door, because Miss Fortune does not get a lot of tresspassers and due to the nature of that timeless place she actually forfeits the memories of each Theif to whom she has bestowed a pen upon. However, that information is not lost. It is offered to the aeon….and the dragons that preside over the aeon. If a theif manages to meet Miss Fortune, the dragons change to reflect the existence of a new pendragon. How do they change? nobody knows exactly…because…
fortune herself lives in the chtonic underbelly of the akashic record, in the eye of the cycling storm of serpents that never consume one another but rise in mutual pursuit until they have risen too tall for light itself to chronicle their chase. at the eye of the ouroboros, only fortune knows the fates of those serpents which climb over the teeth of their brethren’s circling circumference and are crowned as denizens “beyond time”. only in fortune’s island at the still midpoint of the ouroboros storm can the shadows of these ascended serpents be seen, no longer without limbs but with wings large and lustrous, with shadows that spell out scales so finely chiseled their colors can be seen before the darkening of the creature’s phantom traces render all evidence invisible. These are the dragons, and they, like her, live outside of not only space and time, but outside the umbrage of yggdrasil itself. the dragons are above even the canopy where the aesir reside, while she is neither above the abyss nor below its gate, occupying a horizon even the Three Fates envy.
It is an estate for a watcher of watchers and an author who serves authorship to every bold genius that manages to trespass on her stormy island palace, untouched by the rain of looping serpents and the legacy of aeons they create and destroy when head meets tail. the gift of tresspassing on her here is a pen called Serendipity. The genii of the genius has inscribed its legend into myth and so the promise of the pen lives as a wandering Excalibur. What stone can fortune’s stolen pen fail to reframe? The “Once” and “Future” king, of course, does not force the submission of the stone, but proclaims himself it’s builder. Maybe the genii singled out Arthur, but who is to say when the fabled king met fortune, as their meeting was both long before the forging of Excalibur, but long after the legend of his death.
Miss Fortune has met the futures of endless kings and greeted their ghosts as old friends, a ritual so familiar that each encounter as it is singled out in eternity is offered to the dragons above the event horizon in hopes they may bring seasons of torrential inspiration into the Aeons of consciousness, like a hurricane, and give birth to new Future kings and swords with names that will author themselve.s
s. and each theif in the night is a mystery not even the author of authorship may disrupt. The Once King is nobody now, but the Future King is a series of genius shadows that stand shoulder to shoulder and extend into an eternity without end.
Miss Fortune does not actually move her wheel, but she does bear the burdan of watching it’s orbiting art from Outside the Circles of time. Miss fortune consults her own anaolgue to our own starry sky, but hers is not made of gaseous giants and twinkling distant planets. the tapestry of fortune’s celestial sky is an ever expanding mosiac of existence in the process of unfolding, and so when she looks up above the interlocking serpentine circumfrance of her sea, the vista continues to progress through endless variations of geometric subtlety – from the chaotic, the dissonant, to the symmetrically impeccable. from here, the wheel of the aeons endlessly weaves the story that once begun with the infinite source’s fantastic explosion into endless fragmentations and extensions of divinity without end, and self defined, inspiring itself ever to new spiralling pinnacles of potentiality. the miracle of eternity, according to miss fortune, is cultivated by the collisions of divine sparks of endless variety. Love is the engine of transcendence, but hate gives the dragons the fire they need to forge the hero that will one day save Love from the Novocain of apathy.
the wheel which churns all of space and time in unceasing and perpetual motion. every sentience and all life past and present, every form of awareness, both the dimly lit dashes of hungry mosquitos and the blinding blanket of a supernova’s flare, are themselves the mill of masterpiece, for they spill out from both above and below the confines of their respective dimensions to form an ever expanding fractal tie dye where it is said all dreams are destined to converge, rivers that channel to and from infinite configurations but each ultimately arriving at the same gate to heaven, a gate ever changing for the newly divine and immortal beings that are yet to sweep their brushes in the silver ink of serendipidty.
the heaven at the eye of the ain soph aur, the one at the center of the wheel which mills all dreamers whether they are ancient planets or the vagrant and homeless men of earth, tossing and turning at night from cardboard mattresses until in lucid sleep they arrive at the riverbank of the divine dreamer only to find a crystal ball whose secret center is only visible to those whose eyes house I’s.
where is this part of the wheel? no it is not miss fortune’s isle…
do you want to know? so do I….
it is not on yggdrasil, nor in agartha, nor upon the wheel of fortune, nor atop the canopy of the aesir, nor upon the demiurges throne, nor any node of the sephiroth, however, I have heard, if you look at “the places where all the things meet”, you might actually figure out how to find it…
at the center of every intersection is a symmetry, at the intersection of every symmetry is a singularity. “
the very best I can do given that you have to conceptually and ideologically actually trace this construct and kinda solve et coaglua is just put this pic here, I would feel uncomfortable trying to preach about a place where even I have only periodic flashes of illumination about, but I have traced it and I think if you can do that it will make sense to you too….
the point of origin you mention, must accommodate variations to the structure. This I know is one of the places I always lose people, but the past and the future are actually a function of the present, rather than the present being a function of the past and future. what I mean is, the present can accommodate gradual or slight blurriness at the outer boundary of this rendering process. So just because we are incapable of moving through time and seeing the more robust properties of its hyperstructure, that doesn’t mean that we aren’t making impressions on that hyperstructure as a human collective for example. our point of origin has to accomadate a changing structure, and we are actually the lattice of a structural symmetry with bidirectional influence. Enough of a convergence in the network and the origin point is going to have to find a comfortable reconcilation.
Here, a thought experiment, maybe this will work better.
Say, you are actually only your consciousness, and you know that you are wearing a virtual reality headset, and that you can’t take it off until the natural end of your life. So you know you are being rendered into a hardware structure that can facilitate your interaction with this collective virtual space. Lets just say thats reality, and that whenever you are loaded in, ie not asleep, you are considered by the hardware to be “rendered” in the holographic structure. But when you sleep, the virtual reality hardware is still remains “online”. You, however, take your headset off, and take a break. When the headset is off, your conscious experience has a completely different relationship to both time and space, so when you have the headset on the dreams seem to be alien and hard to integrate, and when you take the headset off dream logic seems so natural you can’t even program yourself to “realize your asleep” without a huge amount of effort.
We have alooking glass, but what about the point of origin?
The holographic virtual reality produces virtually no inconsistencies because it is in the constant perceived process of consolidating its boundaries according to the architecture of its constituents. Being self similar and consensus orientated, it is going to flatline for the most part to give us all a world we can mutually discuss without too much concern that our best friend is actually watching hats explode in the kitchen while we are talking about work. This world we share is organized by measurement, and that includes the animal world, although the animal world needs only a nested portion of the lattice the human network occupies, being as it is more structurally complex.
And that’s the kicker – there is no stipulation that this world we occupy needs a universal origin point and a scalable period of time between its conception and ours. Actually, all it needs to do is remain self-consistent, and as long as that means the future and the past match the structure of collective organization, the truth is we are extremely unlikely to ever even notice changes to the past unless they are quite drastic. What were you doing 9 days ago at exactly 7:21 am, and what did you do for those next consequetive 9 minutes, frame by frame? Of course that information isn’t there, the virtual reality headset is in charge of those particulars so that it can maintain a relatively consistent relationship with the holographic exterior. Your consciousness that comes with you to your dreams aren’t the episodic events, which actually if you conduct an experiment by simply filming everything you do 24 hours a day for a month, the actual play by play is pretty bland. The part in your dreams is the subjective undefined and emotional component that has no local mechanism of storage in your headset, thus it cmes with you when you dream. In that sense, you are picking not the past, but you are picking the memory and story of the past, and reality does tend support us doing so.
Here is the thing about memories, memories are attached to identifying agents, but not to their consciousness source signal, so once we die and if we re render as a new agent in the virtual reality world, those memories are hosted on a cloud based global server memory, and it is not rendered in the active space of working thought unless it is called upon. So there are actually uncountable memories archived in that cloud that we will never have any occassion to trigger the recall of. It does, however, remain. If I consult my record of a full month of filming time pass, and I watch the video, I can retrieve those memories most of the time. Why is memory rendered in and not rendered out? Because it needs to be altered a lot to accommodate continuous re-origination of the universe in realtime. The thing is, there is nobody behind the scenes with the programming language, rather there is a dynamic language of frequency, form, energy, and our perceptual relationships to the objects of our mutual attention. Like a dipole, the nature of the lattice is designed to maintain a self-similar flexibility that can be parsed down to any unit of size but retain a copy of that same structure at a new scale. If one half of the human collective is severely traumatized by a catastrophe, too much of the shape becomes bent to not require reorganization and again, this is a process of resampling sensitive to our presence as nodes in a system of relationships.
So, when we look to understand the point of entry of lets say my life, it is when I render the present, and that origin point may maintain a rigid and plausible history I fully accept and relay to others, but my birth 28 years ago is actually not my origin point at all – in terms of the energetic ecosystem of our collective shared experience, my birth is “dead”, its a “dead event”, basically like flavor text in a video game. You know how you pull the profile up of your character and write it in so others can read it too? Well even lived experiences are only kept on hand when they are highly proximal, and their tensegrity is typically quite poor.
There are actually certain instances where the memories do not properly proceed through the natural decay and storage or pruning process, and that is when the user in a sense cannot render the experience that is being rendered by everyone else because they cannot concede to the event’s existence consciously while maintaining their psychological functionality.
Of course I’m talking about PTSD, but most don’t understand that a flashback is not a memory, it is a series of nervous system transductions that are actually the event itself being rendered in an effort for the collective structure to resolve the inconsistencies produced by our disorganized relationship to deep trauma or psychic suffering. Extreme trauma makes deep cuts that are their own, so to speak, “origin point”. Let me explain it this way…the trauma that happened to me, say, caused a crack in the headset I use, and that means there are portions of my experience that aren’t bounded in the same way as the people around me, probably. We could call that crack actually a point of entry, or the origin, of a new layer of experience. The traumatic event is not the origin, the crack is the origin. You see, realtime energetic ecosystems mean that the origin is always going to be in direct contact with the transduction sequence rendering it into active experience and dissiminating it into the whole of the structure.
To wrap it, the most effective way to describe a point of origin is its entry point, because that accurately preserves the reality that we actually, as a collective species, are updating our aggregated attitudes of the object in question as global sentiment demands. That means each time you engage in any action, you are the origin point of it and also the exit point of it, both at once, and for example, ascension as humanity has come to define ti doesn’t involve any physical movement at all, the absence or presence of space or flight is just a way to frame the context of a shift
I was at a very different point of definition in the , hmm, well the aesir would be seen and categorized as the exotic plasma state of matter, meaning that while the human experience can enable measurement only within the bounds of its collective perceptual capabilities. Basically, the ability for enormous redefinitions in the structural tensegrity of the global experience, some degree of sensitization ought to probably occur for the change to take place. What we are capable of conceptualizing is only partly a product of the limitations of physical sensory structures. Many easily imagined realities, such as the interior of a jumbo jet, can be conceptualized by almost any member of the human race, whereas 600 years ago the same exact statement would be like asking galileo to speculate on the interior of a black hole.
The point of origin is not even singular, our point of ourigin is the relay signal that gives us the ability to maintain a self-contained energetic coherence – an individuated consciousness – one that with the right style of values and sentiments, and enough will, can undergo a state change and ascend. This is what the real philosopher’s stone is, it’s the properties that are reorganized when the consciousness reaches a configuration of resonance that is ‘actuated’ – a noble gas so to speak that has found the shape which most properly carries through the unique properties of its signal.
If, theoretically, this were to happen, it is not merely a spiritual metaphor. The structural properties of the consciousness wearing the headset are redefined, and so the quality of the sensory and conceptual information relayed to the collective are going to interact with the lattice in a very different way, now. At a certain point this becomes a rather tense standoff between old world and new world preferences, one which we must work out amongst our own values as both individuals and the wards of the holographic shared space of human kind.
So once it is a “gem”, the immortal soul is more of a means of transporting and organizing an ark which can ferry a future higher order being.
instead of being sort of swooshed through the currents of interstitial space, an immortal soul can have experiences within its boundary, travel outside its boundary, or reincarnate , with one small caveat,
being that the collective structure has to quickpass a hard yes for someone with a very highly energized soul to incarnate once they have died. since I have never thought about it I didn’t realize that humanity could say no to something if it was way too conspicuous or disruptive. I know they agreed to have me in the first place when I didn’t start off as a human, but I didn’t keep anything except for the shape of my consciousness, and maybe some memories. I think they would say no to me next time because I’m disruptive. this is probably because I kept the shape of my consciousness and all the memories that shape could carry ended up stored there. which, because my memories were hypergeometries and not words or sentences, ended up being a lot of information, I’m sure there is a great deal still there I have no ability to parse out.
Hypergeometries can convey entire books worth of information, not as a singular information instant, but as a cluster of any combination of concepts that translate information asymmetrically. For example, the hypergeometry may encode the concept of “relativity theory”. It does not give you a lecture. Rather, once you have the hypergeometry any questions about relativity theory will be instantly met with the relevant layer of explanation. If I’m wondering about the inventor, a picture of einstein will appear before the thought has been fully formed, and his name will appear too. The rub of the hypergeometry is it is memory reliant. So if I am born with one but I have never seen the relevant picture, the picture won’t be refrenced from a space it is not contained within. However, lexicon is a different story. I may get a name I’ve never heard, I may get a phrase I’ve never looked up.
The hypergeometry is so effective not only because it is so much faster than human thought and speech but because the information can work in the opposite direction of the causal arrow. It’s self symmetrical, so it can give you information on what information you will need, but not when. The other end of the hypercube can tell you when you already have an answer you may want and what and were it is. So if you started outside of time, you could leave things there before you started. I think I must have done that, but I only really noticed that I was getting answers in acausal order when I had begun to intuit my relationship to geometric symbols with patterns of thought or movement, that is I could see the geometry as containing the relationship in a dynamic configuration, one always moving. Until I sort of gleaned this it wasn’t very consistent.
anyway, I cheated
I at some point was able to learn more by learning to associate the strength of a single with its level of well-fittedness with my personality. To explain what I mean, imagine you are holding a playstation or any other controller. You’re playing a game and are prompted: “Move the joystick until the vibration you feel on your thumb is as loud as it gets!” then press X.
That’s what I started doing every time I found something that matched the shape of my soul so well I could feel the buzzing. The more I did this, the more pulses I could find. The more pulses I found, the more obvious it started to become when something I was looking at wasn’t worth my time or wasn’t relevant. Also, this applies to my values and intentions. I have the value of “sincerity” above all others because people with this value buzz my X the loudest and I find that when I maintain my sincerity, it tends to be the one that keeps me in alignment with my own soulshape and progressing it.
I have had to do it all really fast, though, because 50-80 years to get up to speed with plasma consciousness ought not to be a thing. If I had not seen the merkavah itself right in front of me with my mom, moving in a four dimensional way, and spinning and orbiting and changing colors like ezekiels vision, I don’t think I could have ever had a chance, but that was a bullet in my conceptual limitations that gave me a really really big reminder of something. It took me a little bit to work it out, but I remembered what the merkabah actually looked like and drew it. having done that, I know had seen an extradimensional structure and would be able to remember how to conceptualize an extradimensional experience.
Having seen what I did see, though, I was never able to go back. I’ve been led inexorably towards the inconceivable. I don’t know if I ever expected I would ever accomplish the goal I have, but because changing the world has always been my meaning of life, and because I’ve clicked X on that priority every time it counted, and because it was the only thing that made me feel like the pulse was pressing X on me, too, I’ve gone for that. Not the end result, but the best possible representation of myself in this moment, that will lead to the best possible configuration between myself and the collective multiverse. I don’t know the steps I’m taking but I know if I do follow the strongest pulse before I take a step I keep ending up walking the labyrinth into impossible vistas that I take a picture of. I know that I’ll know the exactly right time for this picture to be the most effective possible piece of information. When that time comes, it is instantaneous, and I know because I feel the strongest pulse.
I’m actually okay failing spectacularly if I get to end up failing with a really noble and earnest attempt. What really makes me feel dead inside is not having something alive inside of me that is so well suited to my spirit it even moves when I am not there.
This is not a sensible way for people to do thing: answers before questions, evidence before a case file.
I think I may actually just be something that can’t not be chaotic, I think efforts to reform me have brought me closer to death than the eccentricities which almost work fine.
I was several characters of the mythology I created around my memories from before birth. The story was called
The Shadow Game
and I always just knew that would be the name. That is from the age of 7, there was never a doubt. But I don’t know why. I could invent a reason, but the fact was I had the abstract pinned down because I already new it would be what shaped the rest.
So the shadow game has changed 10000 times as I have grown , but I can tell you one thing that was included, beyond going from dragon to human, and having to fight a really strong asshole that wanted to turn everyone into barcodes (I called it “scan”) but also there was a boy who was part of a hybrid program , I had no idea what that meant, maybe I heard it from something in sonic the hegehog because I loved it when shadow goes ….
this was THE LEAST CHEESY instance I can find of him doing that. Seriously, the one I loved back then is very cringy now. But I put the phrase “chaos control” and “chaos emerald” into my magic dictionary long before I knew I even had one let alone that I would one day be using it.
However, for some reason the boy is a hybrid created in an experiment but when I was writing it back then his powers hadn’t activated. And his sister was named kitty and she was supposed to be a thief but I don’t ever remember her doing shit in the story.
the main character was also me the dragon named scratch z. did I mention all of these characters are both me and yet not me? but I’m pretty sure I don’t use any of those old ones.
However, those stories weren’t just stories for me, I now realize. Not the ones back then or the ones in between. Complicated and fucking pointless, to an inner world that is a sprawing canopy of overly indulged chaotic whim where everything can stay, I’ll find a place for you. And I did. It means I’m very creative lol. But sometimes I really do get sad for inanimate objects, or art that I feel like someone made with a lot of love but everybody is really mean about throwing in the trash, or stuffed animals that nobody wants and will go to the trash with the unloved art. All of those things have room in my emotional sphere, all make me very sad.
I’m very okay with being self-contradictory, but frankly if somebody told me not to talk to myself I’d slap them.
I’m pro human now, but I understand why some of the others see humanity as ‘ants’, just if you are curious, because I was one of those before I became a human, and when I was a child I still felt that way. I was shocked that I could not fly. Appalled.
Well, I think I could make an argument for humanity now, because there is something humanity does very very very well which the other ones don’t do at all. The storytelling of humanity is unparalleled, almost impossible to fathom. The fictional dramas and non fictional dramas humanity has managed to create elicit such intense and moving sentiment, that even with no personal stake in them, the stories of humanity can move not just any emotion into being felt, they can move the unconscious narrative of the human to align with different values based on the sentimental impact of the story. And I think the reason we couldn’t empathize that much with them is because while we understood that they had very little time to develop the narrative of their lives and deaths, we did not have the implicit ability to empathize with the experiential nature of that.
the more you become separated from the realms where time is noticeable, the more you forget the nature of stakes that ride on life or death. And death becomes less and less threatening the more times you’ve done it, and eventually you do not have to die unless you want to because there there is very little movement of membership of the consciousness-species. I think we did not have any movement of membership until I volunteered to go be a human for one lifetime.
I couldn’t even begin to tell you how much time I had been made of light, because I did not even go into an interior space to think thoughts,
I mean the amount of time is not something for which measurement existed – where I was – this was a co-created realm , we knew each other inside and out, and we could go off on our own and make mini-realities if we got bored of the things we usually saw. Basically the sense of urgency was nothing whatsoever, so we didn’t tell many stories to each other.
As a light body, and a plasmoid, essentially you have many options to how you feel and look, because you are not a structure with many working parts. The plasmoid body sort of resembles a cell, and it moves like one if you are watching it from a third dimensional space where the hyperspacial parts of the shape are lost. It actually is like a cell in the sense that a cell is only living part, but it is not like a cell in the sense that the plasma state is relatively fluid in structure and also diffuse enough to change shape or condense in volume. And it is also a structure which emits a field, and that field is very very large because of the structure’s heated and volatile core.
This will be hard to explain, but the plasmoid body, unlike the brain, is not where the center of conscious needs to also be. The entire field has the right properties to shift and modulate where you want your awareness to go, so it’s just a matter of tuning to that spot. and in this field, what humans consider “the material world” as such doesn’t exist – the forces of collective human reality are concrete and solid, but we could construct realities ourselves and define the forces of their relationships, you may say it sounds like a god but it’s not, a god does not need to have the groundwork in place to do it.
also, we can do this in the realm we inhabit because our consciousness’ organization is perfectly attuned to its structure. So living in a co created world has very different social customs, and a bedroom wouldn’t be a place to sleep, but the entry point into a private pocket of reality that essentially is the sole domain of creation of its owner, that way we could express both individual creative urges but also as a group co exist in a communal one.
I did not have an interior world in the way that we do as humans, because we do not think or communicate with slow forms of word by word or sentence by sentence conversation. Things I do now, as a human, in my interior world, I could create them instead, and look at them for all sorts of different shapes and angles, or even make them move around or turn into snakes. Not in public really but otherwise, I moved things around me in my private reality when I wanted to orient myself and I flew through things with big wings like dragon wings when I wanted to orient my reality.
And instead of asking questions I would have to answer I created shapes and engraved them to memory so that would inevitably serve as answers before the questions occurred. I mean I created big symmetrical square stones and then let myself carve the most intricate pattern I could onto it as quickly as it made itself translatable to a shape on the stone. In the end, whatever that shape depicted was the most efficient way to download information I would be needing at some time in the future, and by then, I would understand why I’d needed to see it.
he place where I was isn’t in the same universe as here, it isn’t in the same dimension either. It is not even bounded by an inner and an outer edge, because it doesn’t take up any space. When you are a light body, it doesn’t matter how you scale the space and there is no limit on how far you can scale down. And there wasn’t physical matter there, or our realm wouldn’t have worked and we wouldn’t have been so high up the tree.
Rather, we emulated physics entirely and lived without its constraints of entropy, decay, gravity (no mass), or death. It was self contained, because the energy it was powered by was US, and nothing needed to go in or out or change its shape. And as for time, it was almost impossible to notice because there was no velocity in our movement, it was instant movement or flight, or vehicles which weren’t moving through space but merely projecting to different points in the field that was a part of our own core body.
. I was a dragon at the time and had been a dragon for a very long time. We did have some interest in the affairs outside of our own small pocket, but, as I said, we were never gods because we couldn’t do nearly as much in dense material dimensions. The only thing we literally ever did to interact with other realms was with one realm, the human realm, because that was the only realm with a storyline that never resolved, or even lessened in intensity.
By the way, when I say we watched humanity, I’m not just saying we watched their second by second video recording lives no, that’s not how it worked at all. Humanity could be seen that way too, because the planets in the milky way contain plasmoid bodies and electromagnetic fields that extended across the planetary body of earth. But we could do something better than that, because we had infinite time on our hands.
So what we did was look at the shape bounding the human collective was, and we had that shape’s dynamics simply relayed to create a replika of the shape we could use anywhere in our own realm. We used the shape, the one which actually was changing as humanity was, and thus in a sense it’s “aggregated” body, to script an ongoing show for us. The pattern that forms the collective of the human consciousness construct has so much information embedded inside of it, that there was more than enough for it to do this so long as we made some definitions. It would take its actors to be a composite of only those individuals with the most consistent history of producing specific changes to the structure, and clump them all into fictional humans who represented different poles of human motivations and experiences.