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Posts Tagged ‘Chaos’

Neighbors

Neighbors

Being part of the Middle Class is not, as The Soulless Overlord of Money would have you believe, about how much money you make. Do not believe His lies. To compete on his field of play is to be frustrated and tortured for His amusement. Trust me. There are no winners there because the game is rigged.

What is Middle Class?

You are part of the Middle Class if you are a respected member of a community where a single person, going to work (work being defined as a daily effort that promotes the health and well being of the community of humanity, that effort not being so overly long or overly burdensome as to subtract from your true purpose of building hearth and home and family) can acquire enough of the communal abundance to own a home in the community in which you live and work. With this home comes the power to mate and have children, thereby raising up your children to inherit your place in the community and carry your values into the future. (Values being defined as a code of ethics and morality that ensures that humanity not only continues but continues better. Better, as in more enlightened, more knowledgeable, less burdened by the act of etching out a place to stand midst the inherent chaos of the Oneverse.)

But the definition is not about being a solitary individual in a faceless mass of people. You are part of the Middle Class if everyone you know, all your neighbors and friends, have the same prospects as you. They must have the same ease and ability to Build a Life as everyone around you. Your children and the children of every one in your neighborhood are safe and well fed and nurtured, with equal prospects of a bright future life not unlike your own.

This definition holds at its core the value of family. Not only are you and your children safe within the arms of Community, but so to are your elders: the parents and grandparents. They live in comfort, still owning the house in which they raised their own children, still contributing to the well being of the community but in a less strenuous role as teachers and mentors. It is the wisdom of the Elders that teach the young how to survive and it is the Council of Elders who mediate strife and resolve conflicts.

Ah. But the definition does not end there. To be Middle Class is to have enough abundance that you can afford to share it if you want so that when a member of the community falls upon hard times or when Chaos finally comes to claim its tribute, bringing death and destruction to nibble at the edges of the well organized Whole then the community can gather in those wounded by fate and help them until they can stand on their feet again.

By this definition, even the most primitive agrarian communities can boast of having a middle class.

Without this network of other humans of equal prospects, you are not Middle Class. You are just an asshole with money and the Soulless Overlord takes delight in your confusion.

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change is good

trying to cure crazy

Let me tell you about crazy. Crazy is the universe trying to get  your attention so that you can change course. It is about changing perceptions, most of which are perceptions about yourself.

Crazy family members beg you to remember that family is only biology and that love, mother love or sibling love or child love, that kind of love can happen with anyone and that part of the baby steps of growing up and leaving home is the realization that you are bigger and better than your  biology. It is a transition necessary in order for you to join the rest of the human race as they evolve into the Next Big Thing.

Crazy family brings us to the awareness that our institutions are insane. It is not a coincidence that every government on the planet seems to be devolving into the chaos of crazy. In your head you ask yourself: “Was it always this crazy and I just never noticed or are things really turning ugly at geometric speeds?” The short answer to that question is yes. Yes. The concept of pockets of people (separated by lines that only exist on paper) giving a hierarchy of other fallible and corruptible people the governance over their daily lives was crazy to begin with and only made sense when the planet had a billion people separated by long distances. And yes, as we try to wrest control of our lives from their greasy, fat fingers, the bureaucracy of politics is fighting back, and in the process showing the depths of their true natures, making things ever so much worse at the speed of light.

But here is the true Crazy. Religion. Oh, do not get me wrong. Religion has its place. If you live in hut with a dirt floor and the only information you have access to is the stories grandpa tells around the fire at night or the psycho bedtime stories grandma likes to scare you with just before you go to sleep, then religion is a life preserver. But in a world where everyone is connected and the sum total of all human endeavors is available at the click of a button and we are rapidly approaching the point where humanity will have cracked the code of life and harnessed the power of space/time through our knowledge of quantum physics, then you are better off putting your faith in your own ability to find your way through the maze of patterns that lay at your at your fingertips and your own intuitive connection to the quantum entangled Oneverse. (Have I told you lately that intuition is the symptom of a quantum entangled brain?)

Let’s play a game. Erase all your preconceptions and everything you have been taught about the history of man. What if we rewrote the history of the last 2000+ years with the idea that a bunch of psychopaths tortured a man to death on a giant cross planted on a hill above the Mediterranean Sea and that man submitted to this bizarre death because he was hopelessly entangled in the storm of religious Crazy that festered among the Mediterranean cultures at that time like so much bad cheese.

What if.

What if the story of that death was a needful  thing so that humanity might begin to pull itself out of the quagmire of superstition and magical thinking and move one step closer to finding their own divine spark? What if Constantine and the Roman popes had not rewritten that history? What if they had not changed the subtext of the story about a martyr for the human ascension? What if they had not turned it into a story of a puppet god so that they might use it as a political tool subjugate the masses. (pun intended)

How tragic is the irony that a man who loathed the corruption of church as well as state became the figurehead for a religion that would bring us this close to destroying the planet and all the living things that crawl upon its surface?

What if the zealots had never taken a random collection of letters and turned it into a book, declaring it holy? History is owned by those who control the message. Moses was a con man and a charlatan. Can we trust anything he put to paper? He took the story of Adam and Eve, a universal human creation myth, and added a Tree of Knowledge and a test of faith, forever marking his god as a supreme dick and casting the human need to understand the universe in a villainous light, a prejudice that survives even to this day in those who cling too closely to a book that is half lies.

What if Christianity had never been created? Would the Jews of Europe still have walked like lambs to the slaughter into the ghettos and camps had they not suffered for a thousand years under the prejudices of the early popes and learned the lesson of submission? Without Christianity as a boot-heel on their necks, surely the insanity of their religion would have dissipated and faded. But then theirs is the religion of submission. They had long ago handed their souls to their religious leaders, a thing that the man on the cross had died to change. Would the 400,000 Jews in Warsaw have stayed in their flimsy cage, waiting to be rounded up and put on trains, if their leaders had told them to fight instead of submit? There were not enough bullets in the guns of their captors to kill even a fraction of them. If there had been no Holocaust, where would we be now?

I do not reserve my disdain for the Judeo-Christian mythologies. Muslims have ritualized hate. Hate the Devil, inside and outside. Cast it out and burn it with fire. But we are the fabric of the cosmos. We are light and dark. It is the balance between that gives us our power and drives us on to greatness. But for Muslims, it was inevitable that this hate would turn from inward contemplation to outward aggression. Murder is easy, with hate tainting your connection to the Oneverse. Hate kills everything. Love burns to ash. Compassion becomes a weakness in need of eradicating. Paranoia becomes the overwhelming emotion.

Or consider Buddhism  It is the religion of the overcrowded, downtrodden masses. Endure. Submit. Life is to be suffered. Oh, there is serenity and grace in the mix, but dude, come on. You need to get pissed off once in a while if anything is going to change.

Buddhism did not start out bad. None of the religions started out they way they are now. Mostly, some poor, lost human look the advice of a shaman or a prophet or a village wise man and set it down in stone or wrote it down on paper so that he would remember it, knowing that his memory was shit. That is always a fatal and stupid mistake. Always. All Wisdom is contextual. All truth is a microscopically thin layer of the Greater Whole interpreted by a human brain limited by the lack of knowledge, understanding, and perspective. The Hive Mind holds a model of the Oneverse in its heart but the model is forever changing as life on this planet evolves in response to the shifting of all creation as it streams across the Void on a quest to complete the circle of life.

But I need something solid to hold on to, I need things to stay the same so that I always know the ground is firm beneath my feet, you might wail.

Fuck that shit. Nothing is certain, not even 2+2=4. You stand upon a granite slab of a continent floating on a ball of magma that is trying to suck you down to the core every minute of every day. That ball is flying through space around a sun that is caught in the ragged edges of a galaxy on a collision course with about a million other galaxies all of which are being spun around the Void like burrs caught in the hem of a dancing girl. There is NOTHING stable or safe about any of this. It’s about time you leaned out over the prow of this ship with your hands flung wide and scream “I am the King of the World!” because cowering down in the holds will only get you drowned.

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Universal_Unity_by_Shadow_Coyote

Democracy was a wonderful baby step on the path to sentience but it is a failed system because it is Ego driven and without soul.

Capitalism without divine connection is merely cannibalism, brutal and ugly.

Communism, while seeming like a good idea on paper, was destined to fail because it lacked the unifying concept of the Hive Mind and brutally suppressed any quest to reach such a state of heightened awareness and eventually devolved into cold, hard chaos.

Where do we go from here?

Well, it helps to remember that paradox is the engine that drives the Universe.

How do you achieve the next step of human civilization? You must take the cult of the Individual to its extreme.

The divine theory of unity goes something like this:

The needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many. Only then can everyone be happy. (The forms that our groups take are ultimately meaningless if every single unit within that form is absolutely and utterly free to achieve self actualization. A self aware, self actualized human, centered within the state of its own divine connection to the Oneverse, will gravitate to others of like minded thought and this confluence with form its own reality well in which all individuals, while performing in synergy, will be the bright and shiny stars of their own realities.)

The One Rule:

Do as you will but harm none.

Well, you might say, that is all fine and good on an esoteric level but how do you make this happen? You can’t just grant full autonomy to every human upon birth.

No. Sentient humans are not born. They are nurtured, as one would nurture the roses in your garden.

The human body totally replaces itself every seven years. (It is not so dramatic as a snake shedding its skin but it is tantamount to the same thing.) Oddly enough, this seven year cycle has its mirror in the development of the individual human’s quest for sentience.

How to grow a sentient human:

Infant: Years birth to Seven. Discovering the “I am”.

The infant is coddles and held close. Each step is encouraged and nurtured and celebrated. There is always a hand ready to catch you if you stumble. The infant learns vital lesson of survival. Fire burns, wind blows, water drowns.

Mimic: Years seven to fourteen. Discovering empathy.

The infant turned mimic learns that there is more to the Universe than just the “I”. They learn boundaries. Having them and respecting them in others. They are allowed to fail and then learn to accept the consequences and the responsibilities of such failures. They discover group play. They don masks, mimicking adult behavior, and then change the mask for another on almost a daily basis. They discover they better at some things than others.

Explorer: Years fourteen to Twenty One. Discovering Synergy.

The mimic, having discovered their passions, go exploring. They find others of similar passions and form tribes and gangs and teams and clubs. They compete, striving to be the best hence discovering what they excel at. It is only through competition, (resistance) that one learns to shine their brightest.They are encouraged to build and create. They are given free reign to explore the act of creation on all levels.  They practice partnerships and learn that a successful one on one relationship is the hardest endeavor. They learn to keep themselves happy while serving the needs of another. They fall into and out of relationships as easily as changing shirts. They go walkabout and come back.

Specialists: Years twenty-one to twenty eight. Baby steps into adulthood.

The Explorer is done experimenting. They take their passions and manifests them into the world. They goes walkabout and might not return. They create their own nests. They become specialist in things that bring them joy. They become gradually aware that the Universe is a living, breathing thing and that all things are one, thus coming full circle back to the moment of birth. As they once experimented with relationship with others, so now do they experiment with connection to the Oneverse. Shamanic journeys and mind altering drugs are encouraged.

Adults: twenty eight and beyond. Being Sentient.

With learned wisdom and self awareness solidly under their belt they are set free. From this day forward there is just one rule. Do as you will but harm none. Having learned all the lessons of Infant, Mimic, Explorer, and Specialist, the individual takes their passions and manifest them into the world.

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Have I not said that you know you have come to the truth of a matter when you stand in the heart of its paradox?

Should we legislate morality? Should we make rules and pass laws and punish people for not being honest or moral or good? The short answer is no.

You walked through the veil, having given yourself a purpose and a mission statement, only to promptly forget it all in the cauldron of your birthing. When you die, you go back through the veil and confront yourself; the bigger, infinite you, and remember everything from the beginning of time.

Imagine your sadness when you are enumerate the failings of your avatar self.

“You were given free will. Why did you not use it?” you ask the incoming you.

“I followed the rules. I obeyed the laws. I was never arrested. I was never publicly vilified. I was an elder in my church and a leader in my community. My children and grandchildren grew up to follow in my footsteps,” your avatar says, trying to defend what is undefendable.

“Yes, but you did it because you were told and not because it was right and good and served the One Purpose,” you explain to yourself patiently. “Intent is everything in the eyes of the Oneverse. Never, once did you connect with your own divinity and manifest it, untainted and unmolested, into that reality well.”

“But I did. Everything I did, I did in the name of my god,” protests the avatar.

“Silly avatar,” laughs the higher you. “You are your own god. It was this one thing that you were supposed to remember. Oh, well. Go back. Let us try it again.”

“What? You mean I have to do it all again? From the beginning?”

“The beginning is always the best place to start,” your higher self says, amused, as it shoves you back through the veil.

Until you can stand in the heart of the paradox that weighs Law against Anarchy and understand the peace of Oneness that lies in its center, you will be doomed to repeat the lesson over and over again.

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Another Tibetan has set himself on fire. That makes 11 in 11 months and 16 since 2009.

So what, the rabid atheists say. Another fool seduced by another foolish religion. Thousands of people die everyday in far more horrific ways. Why should we care? (I cannot tell you how sad that makes me, knowing that anyone could become so casually indifferent to death and suffering.)

Of course, the protest in Tibet is not just about religious freedom. It is about the genocide of a people. It is about wiping a unique culture off the face of the planet and out of the minds of men. Oh, but then, those who have been Bible born and raised would not be shocked by this. It is no different than the Israelite armies, led by Moses, then Joshua, then Judah, marching through the Middle East and killing every man, woman and child that dared to be different from them, putting Genghis Khan to shame and making him seem a slacker. Exodus, Leviticus and Numbers is a proud recounting of a ruthless and bloodthirsty mob and all the societies they wiped from the planet forever. (Have I not said before that The Lord of the Flies was just a retelling of the story of Moses in the desert?)

Why should we care about Tibet? If Tibet were an animal it would be the tiger. (Few left in the wild, most in zoos.) There are Tibetans free to dress and act like Tibetans but they do not live in Tibet. What would we lose, if we allowed Tibet die? It might be a good question to ask BEFORE Tibet disappears under China’s bulldozers.

Actually Kurt Vonnegut explained it the best. In Slaughterhouse Five, the Tralfamadorians explain to Billy Pilgrim that they have five sexes but that humans have many more and that it takes all the sexes to make a baby. Humans don’t realize this because most of the sexual energy exists in other dimensions.

Too ironic?

Perhaps a study of the social dynamic of the Sioux horse culture would be better suited. Even the smallest of bands had a chief and a medicine woman and a shaman along with all the warriors and maidens and wives and wise old men. These leaders were not elected, nor were they self appointed. They were leaders because of all the members of the tribe, these were the ones best suited for the role. Nor were they autocratic and dictatorial. The people, having integrated their spirituality into their everyday life, only came to them in times of need. The leaders and holy people were not a drain on their society because they served a very real and valuable purpose. Like Tibet of the old days, the Sioux encouraged their people to regularly leave their rational, logic mind and explore the universe with the right brain.

The brain is like a house. The frontal cortex is the place where we build walls that keep the rest of the world out. There is no blurring of boundaries. The “I” of us is very clear. But the closer you get to the central core of the brain, the closer you get to the “back door” that is open to the pan-dimensional universe, the more you realize you are hanging bare-arsed and naked in the infinite void for all to see. The right brain seems to be the place we use most when we go “traveling”. It is the place where we connect to the rest of our “self” that we left behind when we crossed the veil into human birth.

All the knowledge of the infinite is available to you if you are willing to find that open door and fall out of your mind.

Vonnegut knew this. The Sioux knew this. Most of the ancient peoples knew this.  Tibet was one of those places where that idea was integrated into everyday life. Maybe because they were so far up into the sky, that much further away from the chaos of the fecundity of  life at sea level, that much closer to the stars, where the air is thinner and life is harder and the pattern of the circle of life was etched ever so much more deeply into every act and motion. Up at the top of the world where the air is thinner and gravity does not drag you down as much, they developed a way of life that acknowledged and celebrated the Patterning of the Oneverse. It was reflected in every aspect of the way they lived, right down to the color and pattern of their clothing. Mao knew this. The first thing he did when his men blitzkrieged their way into Tibet was ban the outward trappings of being a native Tibetan. (A devastating blow, as the Sioux will tell you, having had their children taken from them, long hair cut off, dressed in white man’s clothes and taught in white man’s schools, effectively wiping out a culture by erasing a language. Genocide is not just about body count.)

Why is Tibet important? Because mankind needed them to do what they did best, unnoticed yet important, like Vonnegut’s pan-dimensional sex.

Because, just by waking up and walking through their day, they were keeping the Patterning of the Oneverse alive in the universe.

What do they say about freedom? That you have to fight for it everyday otherwise it will be taken from you. Holding back the chaos is very much like that. It nibbles at the edges of your life, eroding it, day by day, minute by minute, until nothing is left. You keep it at bay with the little things you do every day. Wake up, brush your teeth, wash your face, eat, do the dishes, dust and sweep and mop and do the laundry, water the plants, mow the lawn, weed the flower beds, call your mom, read a bedtime story to your children before you kiss them goodnight. You mark you place in the universe with your intentions and your actions and your wishes. The cancer of the unending nothingness that is chaos cannot break this pattern, not easily anyway.

It has been over fifty years since China walked into Tibet and destroyed the Pattern Keepers. The magic was thousands of years in the making. It would take more than a little bit of genocide to wipe it away. But China has been diligent and everyone else has turned a blind eye to the destruction of something irreplaceable. It is only now, half a century later, that we look around and begin to notice that chaos is winning.

Who will beat back the chaos now?

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What if an alien came down to earth and wanted you to explain the current divisiveness of the planet. The questions would start out simple enough.

“What are crosses? I see them adorning so many things,” it asks. A long story follows and the alien nods wisely and says, “Ah, an instrument of torture.” Oh, dear, and you were just about to take him into the cathedral and show him the really great antique cross with the tortured Jesus still hanging on it, rendered in all its detailed gore.

You take him to a mosque instead. No icons, so you think you are safe. “Where are the women?” the alien asks. Segregated and hidden under the veils, you answer. “Hidden from what?” the alien asks. From the men around them. “Why?” the alien asks, his confusion complete. Well, it makes that whole denial of the flesh so much easier when there is nothing to tempt you, you reply.

“Denial of the flesh?” it asks. “Is this a form of birth control?”

No, you say, at a loss for words. In order to illustrate your explanation you take the alien to see the monks and zealots, telling the alien about true belief. The alien looks at the extreme denial of the flesh with confusion. “But,” it would say, “the flesh is the extension of Self through which we touch all of the Universe. Denying it makes you effectively deaf, mute and blind.”

You try to explain holiness and saints and martyrdom. “Wouldn’t your civilization be better served if they lived instead of dying?” the alien asks. The alien is obviously not getting it. You take him to see the sufis and the flagellants and the emaciated fasters. The alien shakes its head at the fanatics who torture their flesh to induce paroxysms of mind altering ecstasy. “What are they doing?” the alien asks. They seek enlightenment, you reply. “You know there are drugs,” it says, “that do the same thing in a far gentler way, right?” Oh, well, that is illegal. We lock people into dark airless cages for using them. “Ah, you don’t want anyone numbing down the pain,” the alien nods.

You try to explain prisons. “Really?” the alien says in utter confusion. “And what does this accomplish?” it asks. “Is this not another extreme form of denial of the flesh? Are you trying to convert them to the ways of the Death Cult?” No, no, you say. We just want to teach them to obey the rules. “How is that working for you? Does it make them obey the rules better?” Well, no, you admit. They usually come out of their cages far more angry and uncivilized than when they went in, but they have been punished. The brutality usually strips their humanity away. But the punishment is the thing, you say firmly.

The alien nods wisely. “Death and torture,” it says. “Transformation through pain. It is to be expected of a society ruled by Death Cults. So do you use that to your advantage? Do the strongest and fittest and smartest survive and go on to rule your world?”

Well, no, you admit. You try to explain the permanent taint of criminal records. “So, they become so marginalized by the social system that they end up back in the cages or dying on the street, homeless and alone. Is this another form of birth control?” the alien asks doubtfully. “Isn’t it far easier to not have the babies to begin with? There are ways to control birth cycles. I could help you with that,” the alien suggests gently. Oh, no, you say, we already have that but it is only available to those who can pay for it. Besides, most of the religions think it demonic to deny the randomness of god’s will. “Uh, you know that random chance is another word for chaos, right?” the alien asks, looking at you oddly. “Is not chaos the enemy of a any civilization?”  You stutter on, not wanting to argue. Females, you explain, are kept ignorant. Most are used and treated like cattle, bound with rules and laws and brutality to keep them from using choice as a way of controlling family size.

“Without a strong mother, how can you possibly raise intelligent and strong children?’ the alien asks, a look on its face that tells you it is really afraid of the answer.

Uhhh, you say, searching for an explanation.

“No, no, let me guess,” the alien says, holding up his tentacle to stop you from replying. “I have seen many civilizations controlled by death cults. I know the answer to this one. You are a civilization obsessed with death, dying, and pain induced transformation. You teach through torture. I can only assume your infant mortality rates are quite high and the children that survive pregnancy and infancy in one piece are then forced into a monkish and ascetic lifestyle of deprivation and austerity. Those who survive to adulthood are so transformed by their experiences that they become invested in the system that created them, thinking that this is the only way to make a strong and powerful adult. Let me guess. The young adults confuse ruthlessness with being powerful, thus perpetuating the system.”

It’s called pulling oneself up by your own bootstraps, you say, offended.  The alien looks at you like you have grown your own set of tentacles and they are whipping about uncontrollably. It is quite embarrassed for you. “You know that is physically impossible and denies all the laws of physics, don’t you?” it says.

OK, you concede. Bad choice of words. How about survival of the fittest? Everyone is a shark swimming in a great big ocean of sharks, you say.

“Yes,” the alien says patiently, “but not even sharks cannibalize their mates instead of f*cking them. But be that as it may, you are not solitary hunters swimming in an infinite ocean. You are a social animal who needs the matrix of the social group to survive. How long would an elephant herd last if you culled the elder females over and over again. Would it not effectively lobotomize your ability to survive change? What if you killed off all the elder chimps in a pack? The collective knowledge and wisdom of the group, garnered over generations would be erased and every generation would have to start over from scratch trying to survive in a world full of pitfalls. You are a higher order, thinking,  and intricately complex species. It takes years of teaching to make a successful adult and I am not talking about the knowledge you teach in your so called schools. No species gives birth to a helpless infant and then walks away from it.”

Some of our infants are raised in privilege, you say. “Not every child is an empty and vacuous soldier in the army of the corporate machinery. Really?” the alien says, hope in its voice. “Show me. I would love to see a human unaffected by the culture of pain, torture, and denial of self.”

You take the alien to see the children of the privileged few who have been raised in the proverbial belly of the beast. “I am sorry,” the alien says with a sad shake of its head, “the torture inflicted upon these children is far more subtle and insidious than starvation and neglect. They have been brain washed until the last vestiges of common sense and natural wisdom have been subverted to the system that birthed them. It has left them gutted, empty, and highly addicted to a value system based on ownership of tangible goods, made all the more ironic as the whole system is being continuously degraded by chaos and entropy. Where are the leaders of tomorrow?”

No, no, you say. Statistics say these are the happiest children on the planet. They will be good leaders.

“You know, I think I see the problem here. You have confused the illusion called happiness with tue joy,” the alien said.

Huh, you say. I don’t know what you mean.

“I know,” the aliens says as he puts his space helmet back on, “which is why I am officially posting your planet as quarantined and off limits. I will come back and check  up on you in a century or two but I don’t expect you’ll get too much further up the ladder of civilization than you are now. Maybe in another ten thousand years your ancestors will crawl out of their caves and try again.”

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Cancer, in a simplistic explanation of tumors, is merely a cell who has forgotten that it is mortal.

Or perhaps it is a cell infused with the insanity of megalomania.

Sane cells remember that in order for renewal to take place, the old and exhausted must die to be replaced by the new, the fresh, the strong. They know that they are living in synergy with a choir of other cells, toiling away at doing whatever duty was assigned them, having inherited that assignment from an ancestor tens of thousand generations in the past. You live, you work, you die. Such is the lot in life for most. Think of it as the Mindless state of Being.

Sane cells turn crazy for all sorts of reasons. Toxins, radiation, the sheer perversity of Chaos as it tries to insinuate itself into the Pattern of the Oneverse.  The reasons are endless. But these things are just triggers, catalysts. It is like getting mugged. Some big bad thing comes along, hits you over the head, kicks you while you are down and then steals your watch. Or your purse. Or your amino acids. You spend a month in the hospital, healing but when you come out, sometimes things are never the same. You walk with a permanent limp. You forget the names of things. You start coding for proteins unlike all the other cells around you.

Oh, you might be crazy but you are still a healthy cell. You still replicate and function as a cell. You even pass on your new nature to your children. It’s not like you became a mutant zombie. Cells who suffer catastrophic change die. They become the road kill of life. No, it is the subtle shifts, the shifts that do not destroy the nature of being a cell, that survive.

What if you got mugged and the only thing that is different is that you start remembering things that you had forgotten. Or what if you became old and exhausted and bored with playing the “I am the lining of Joe’s stomach” game and you begin to reminisce about the good old days when you were just a gooey mass of cells, the journey of endless possibilities stretching before you. Simple memories from that time before everything got divvied up and complicated. Theses are not foreign memories. They are your memories. Memories embedded in your own coded network.

What are these memories? Where do they come from? Think of the Planet Earth as an enormous galactic library filled with all the information of the Oneverse. Think of DNA as the language. All those tiny little spirals of amino acids embedded in every living thing in this library is a bit of that data base. Humans contain within themselves the infinite possibility of every permutation of the idea of “animal”. Human, although the most complex of the fauna, cannot approach the complexity of most plants. Trees contain within themselves, the infinite possibility of every possible permutation of the idea of “plant”. Plants, its seems, have not suffered from the memory erasure of mass extinctions, so it could be said that their memories are more intact.

We are “homo sapien” not because we access and read all this data but because we ignore more than 90% it, thus relieving ourselves of the burden of having tails or gills or webbed feet. Even when the protein decoders get a little confused and give us those pesky tails or webbed feet, the body as a whole does not treat this as “wrong”.

Thus, all the defenses, all the little robotic cleaners, all the minute hall monitors that roam the halls picking off the non-conformists and the malcontents go whizzing right on by, seeing order when, deep down inside, there is none.

A cell that does not die? Sure. Why not? Immortality, it seems, is part of that code, and there are no safe guards against it. The problem with immortality in an enclosed wholistic environment is that immortal things no longer need to replace themselves. Whether it be single cells or highly evolved beings, immortality without awareness and compassion becomes thuggery. Replicating endlessly crushes the fragile underfoot and destroys the synergy of the whole. Perhaps some cells remember to turn off the cell division code. You never hear about those guys. It’s the thug cells that grow and grow and grow that get all the press.

Complicated? Sure. But I haven’t mentioned the truly complex part yet.

The “I” of you, that part that exists in infinite dimension, timeless and immortal, that part of “You” that you have inserted into this place, the one that is animating your DNA meat puppet, this being can influence what and how your DNA is read. Think of it as the uber double helix. One that supersedes all others. Even in meat puppet code, nothing is written that cannot be bypassed. Some beings manifest Chaos. Others choose to cling to the One Pattern. This “higher nature” bleeds through into their bodies as time progresses. Neither is bad or good. The Oneverse will balance it all out in the end.

Healing comes when the body recognizes the higher state of “I” and follows its lead. With thought and intention, one can tame the thug cells, acknowledge their existence, recognize them as an aspect of the Divine Whole, open ourselves to the memory of their place in our cellular history, embrace them as part of yourself but also reminding them that they are part and parcel of an unseen whole, and in the process, turn off their uncontrolled procreation, and then, with a little encouragement, reabsorb their craziness by insisting on order.

Think of this as a cheat code. There you are. Playing the “I am the lining of Joe’s stomach” game, living only in the moment, too busy to think about the past or conjecture much about the future and you hear a rumor that you can download a cheat code for this virtual reality game. There are consequences and responsibilities that go along with the cheat code but, hey, you are an adrenaline junkie from way back.  Infinite possibilities are just a thought away. What do you do?

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