Synkronos23’s Neighborhood

Cleansing-electric-healing-circle 

circle or "NaNº Code"

-PLAY LOUD-

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So noticing that this “Y-TIME,” divergence time, in Life is critical. Critical for the traveller to notice.  Once noticed, the individual can then call this an “INTERVENTION POINT,” then, choose to not split off, and thereby own this Intervention Point where the individual simply walks down the middle path between the diverging trinity plane … And walk the middle line between the two separating streams of this “play”. In doing so, the Captain becomes his own rudder of exploration, noticing the operation of both worlds … Seeing how they are changing along what directions. They can become a witness of diverging currents.

"Intervention Point"

§

“GRUNGE” IS THE ROOT of the STREAM

If one has negative crunge, then get that program out of your head.

81 degree [33 + 48]  span on electrical guitar vibe..

You face the sound

You allow a big cleaning screen to pass through the rhythmic programs of salutation and hypnogenesis.

that has permeated and formulated the avenues , streams or currents in your flowing mind structure, which defines your personality.

 

Cleanse your aka body

Your emotional body

Your cell

 

Lead Guitar to “loosen all the cluttered stuff” one needs to work through again to definitely clear out any blocks.

 

ELECTRICAL  LIGHT VECTOR TRUE NORTH

FEEL THE POWER 

Vector of LIGHT Flow through U

LIGHT  POWER

Then choice point?

What time are you going into, or do we wish to work towards a common time of No-Time. Then take the trail North, young  person. Make a new PATH!

 

NOW ... A Straight road, down the center to your main gate.

Nothing stands in your way.

Cause U R the Weigh… No  That black hole in Space.

Mentally enter that black hole to get to the sun on the next plane of existence, or next dimension.

Become that Sun

Become the MIND of the Sun

Center of the Black Hole weighs a billion tons!

Leave the weigh to go the WAY

Always head for the light.

Seek that LIGHT

The trail divides. You keep walking straight, forming a new path.

There are sharp corners on this path as one starts out.

We’ve done that roll with the wave. At times however one should cleanse thy self.

 

I’m HEADING NORTH … TRUE NORTH

 

------- We had walked for many a mile through the ice-land of the Canadian winter North to the Territories, where we meet an old wise shaman on the Northern cap of this planet.

Then while visiting down south, I ran into an old prospector by the side of the “Peace River.” He showed me how to pan. "Pan the crap out of the sediment to reveal the golden flakes left in the bottom plate ... of collecting the smallest, most refined gold flakes, that were left to help alchemize yourself," he smiled with that knowing smile." He had a 3 level gold panning bowl, where each level also had a electric, magnetized etheric aura around them that allowed only correctly-polarized pure, golden samples to remain. It had an energized field about it that one could sometimes hear in the piles of agglomerated conglomerates of the top plate. Each pan had a bottom made of holes that decreased in size (size of space) as the plates were lowered … Holes that increased in size as one moved up the plates. Plate 1, the highest plate was the collection for coarse, not- understood material because it was too-large-chunks of misunderstood thought, that could not fall through the sieve or aggragate-size of the middle , more conscious plate of our conscious awareness. The chunks that remained on the upper plate were too big and clumsy to be understood. They in fact, wore their minds down in the process of trying to retain it’s awkwardness as one tried to take these big clumbersome chunks down to a smaller more refined particle, as left in the bottom tray.

 

The OLD PROSPECTOR said

“First… PHASE 1:” Feel the mental thoughts try to  vibrate all the coarse “junk-MIND- AGLOMERATION-stuff” to the bottom of the sieve pan, where their is PURE Alchemic Gold. The finer denser gold  fits through the holes in the net (plate). Ya, were mining for gold. The golden bowl has 3 different levels. The uppermost sieve collects the coarsest material… the really coarse blocks in your mental state and the finer thoughts fall through the holes into the bottommost layer of whatever emotional, physical and spiritual level of purity of

MIND, BODY, SOUL that U wish to partake in.

It cuts, or is more aggressive with getting the blocks out of you. The agitated sound of the rough electric static, in the background is simply there to disrobe all unwanted and misunderstood theories of attraction of useless , heavy, unfit theory for the creative mind. It allows all past-blocking-beliefs that an individual has to be LET GO  OF The guitar is a SWORD OF LOVE that cuts through all this negative sided-crappola. This

 

"PASSING of AGGLOMERATED SHIT”

So the prospector anchored towards me coming to an attentive STOP right in front of me face. He placed his two palms together and ovalled them off one another in oppisite directions, blowing the "Breath Of Life" into them as  He stated 'Bless You" ... You've Passed the Agglomerated Shit Stage (PtASS)

Once cleared out, when one  allows the celestial filling of your structure. The Aka energy mould of yourself passes its mana loa energy down to your body to be lifted to the pure tones of the Tibetan Bells & bowels.

 

PURE SOUND (next song – PHASE 2)

 

“Second… PHASE 2:” Song to calm U …. An angelic bell sound. Simply layers of pure tone. Need to bring that purity and softness in to help finalize the cleansing.

 

Ask Andras :0) – But be carefull – She has a black night RAVEN.

She even rides the cutting –guitar-sickle-sword of this song.

 

SHE DUNNO PUT  ∆ with petrified pellets

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Desiderium dierum

 

Desiderium- an ardent longing, as for something lost.

Dierum – master of the party. Ever ! receives the master of the Party…. After Ya get Clean’d out.

 

Yes the angelic, travellere code.

Get your masculine-feminine to gththar, NaNº

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I sat in with my brother on his afternoon show for Friday the 13 th. I knew that we were going to interview  world renowned skeptic Joe Nickell with the Committee for Skeptical Inquiry and that later I would blog about it. I wanted the perfect picture for my blog entry and not being particularly superstitious I sat up the above knee-slapper. It was sort of a Paraskevidekatriadelphia Experiment, if you will. The result? I blew a head gasket in my truck not ten minutes after taking this photo. True story.

 

Our engineer left a message on the studio white board:

 

Now I'm not saying that this is anything more than a freaky coincidence colliding with bad vehicle matainance habits, but if you hear thunder, you might not want to stand next to me.

 

Refugium

re·fu·gi·um n

an area whose climate remains habitable for particular species, especially rare or endangered ones, when that of the surrounding areas has changed

 

Encarta® World English Dictionary © 1999 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved. Developed for Microsoft by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.

 

The innermost resiliency of  the refugium took a great deal of internal thought amoungst the founders of  the great awakening. 

 

Resilience:

re·sil·ience or re·sil·ien·cy n

1. the ability to recover quickly from setbacks

2. the ability of matter to spring back quickly into shape after being bent, stretched, or deformed

 

Encarta® World English Dictionary © 1999 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved. Developed for Microsoft by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc.

Then The Sky Broke

And Then the Light Shone Through-

SkyWalker

 

Inhalation

Exhalation

Inhalation… exhalation

Exuberant exhalation

uplifting

Exultation

Inspiring rejuvenation

 

what is this

What is the word that describes this

this feeling

 

Skywalker drops his bandanna and

clears the remaining sweat from his forehead

Exasperated

Anxious pensive

Afraid exhausted frustrated

Very frustrated

Confident determined

Longing

Half-filled strong

Adrenalin pumped soul he is

He stops

 

A barrage of feelings (words) flood him

They drown him

before  they leave him

Alone

He cries

 

Release forgiveness cleansing

 

A sun explodes (atomic bursts)

Energy of planets

Universe

Bright god in darkness of the morning mist

It rips

Fragments

Brecciates the fabric of the mountain

wretches

Tearing the darkness

the coldness

the misery away

Out of the rock

Cataclysmic catastrophic earth shattering

 

*Sunlight*

 

It commands

Commands the attention of the morning

of the moment

A symphony erupts

synthesizers violins harmonic chords

Ultrasonic ultraviolet electric magnetic waves play

to the tune of their master

Flowers lichen

Insects

Birds mammals

Wind

Molecules atoms

Everything and nothing scream in ecstasy and

Vibrate

In harmony in phase in unity with

their god

Their lifeline has made the grandest of all entrances

The most significant curtain call of life …

dawn

 

Sunlight warmth

Love

 

Is this the word that describes it?

Love

God is love, love is god

Is that what this is

Can one word contain such a multitude of thought?

Of emotion

 

If you do find the word

The one word to fit the feelings

Let skywalker know

For this and this alone

Is what surely motivates his quest

His desire

Now it was important for him to remain in that sedentary position so that he could escape the whirlings of thought that preyed upon his mind. The question then became what mind was he concentrating on in that particular moment. Could he indeed pull himself past this point of believing that he indeed had anything to do with the formulas or with the intent that was continually bringing his mind to the most inescapable quandary of believing that he himself had indeed had the intelligence and the fortitude to complete himself in the mind of ……

In the mind of what he was beginning to refer to as his  consciousness or his personality. Yes to refer himself to that particular conglomeration of incredible knowledge and wisdom that had softly centered and rested in the internal constitution of himself. What indeed had brought these knowings and energies together in this particuar place …. This particular time … This incredible surroundings of what he now referred to as the “moment.” This moment was always there. It had always been. As he rested in this state of “blissfull purposelessness” he began to loose the knowledge of the past … 12:32 AM - The knowledge of the moment. He slowly felt his mind, his thoughts slipping away into the vastness of the surrounding space. He was beginning to feel the loss of his higher conscious states or mind. Yes the higher mind, the eternal memory, was being forced out of his personality as he fell. He fell from the higher space of that higher mind. What this was referred to, or what it was called, was no longer important to him, for here he was indeed becoming bewildered and lost. Are you all lost too, in this great seperation of the electromagnetic fields of the unified conscious sphere. This is what they referred to in the bible. This was indeed the great parting of the waves. The waves were beginning to accept their sides … To pull the universal mind apart into different fathoms of electromagnetic frequencies that could also be defined and more easily explained as the many levels of conscious attainment. For this is indeed a deep Ocean with many different fathoms or levels that certain “things” can most easily exisit in. There are different pressures and temperatures relating to the different fathoms or dimensions of this space… Just as we are being zoned out-of and in-to what “fathom” we will eventually be married to.  Many have mapped what these fields are indeed separating themselves into … But not really. For only minds contained within this current field of awareness … Into this electromagnetic field of “like” frequencies are “they” that could only define the frequencies of this objective reality that allow us to delve into the subjective side of our (humanitys’) conscious field and the few … only the few which have their feet planted solidly on either side of the spreading field of electromagnetic syncopation. Years ago, say around 1996 these energies began to swim and flow in the internal, or what now appears to be the external zone of consciousness. For some “outer” has already become “inner.” Yes the internal was now becoming the external. Only those of dealing with the mind situations of “inner” & “outer” will begin to understand or comprehend what indeed we are mostly referring too.

 

 

You see this “ooze” or this “cloak of energy” that we all wear … this cloak of  attitude, or perhaps it can be referred to this aka body of personality that we can call around the quatum neutrinos of the plasmic love force of what and who we are, can only fully be felt or better yet, can only be understood, when we are gifted with the Christ conscious aka body. We can wear this plasmic coat of the Christ aka body by whatever method it is that takes you to this moment. You must be at that moment, for you are now reading this description of what is working in you and around you. Internal and external.

 

We can move from this external to internal knowingness with the grace of the river flowing in, around and through the mechanics of the situation. Yes music helps me, to so much, be in the moment. Currently right now I’m listening to Radiohead  “Subtrranean Homesick Alien.” We all are aliens from what we came from. However we came here … Some of us came here perhaps before this Earth was being formed. Back before the clustering of particles in space that actually began to spin causing all the electromagnetic negatives & positives to spin in a counter rotating plasma of particles, or energies, in what we refer to as the “no-thing.” However exploration of this “no-thing” is almost impossible to explain in this conscious set of attributes. Humanity needs to expand its consciousness by the ability to imagine. It is imagination that shall free you all from this containment that you have created. Objective mind must work with the subjective mind. umanity needs to extend what they think are the particular sets of cir From this circular motion of rotation, of whatever’s on the higher plane …. We’ll call this higher plane, as the Hebrews did, for the sake of giving a name to whatever it is we wish to believe we came from. They called this plane the World of Atziluth where Gods & Goddesses formed the level of  just-instantly-forming the things that we wished to form. This level is indeed a higher level of  probability-manifestation. In fact we really do not have to name it. Only on this plane of ego formation, we came here to experience it. When one needs to feed their ego, then we allow that to happen here. These things have already been formed, they’ve already been created. We all have helped create this plane of existence. How’s that? We indeed have used our minds to create that which is all around us. Once one becomes aware of that instant formation and creation we can “All” create that world which we wish to live in. We are simply getting to see how and what we created. We are all explorers. Time travelers we all are.

Molecular Joining 1

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-The Sound Of Sooth-

The Sooth Sayers Say Sooth

*

The “Thread of Love” is never lost

This “piece” of a story was started in the early 90’s with a few lines added every year. It’s “now possible for others to read this for many people have already been “reborn.”  A few have “lived” these stories ( “HERE” & “THERE” - so further “cleansing” of the subconscious plane by individuals would not have to dig as deep as these few “adventures.”

RESPECT & GRADITUDE

Is all that is asked.

For movers of “energy” – Be Strong & Keep up the great work :0)

The Fall

a) Daed and the Angel

 

He awakened.  Drool slid like sonnets of life from the flattened side of his mouth which was almost squashed into a permanent flat line due to his lengthy stay on the floor of the cell.  His thoughts raced slowly up into his slowly awakening conscious self.  Distorted, infected disjointed waves of confusion raced about his brain looking for a shelter where they could meet and unify, hidden away from the harm of the truth of the situation.  Reason and rational linear thought processes had no place here.  Perceptions or fragmented conceptions of what this fake reality  was, originally it didn’t matter, but now it does.  The water below clearly remembered … but no one was listening.  The problem was the co-pilot remembered but he needed his brother of reason to act on his impulses. For so long they had bounced back & forth off of each other to be left finally tattered in the waste of their own turmoil.  United they fell and divided they now stood.  The opposing thoughts now waited for direction, standing, peering over the threshold of focus, watching the dusk of reason give birth to the child of fear.  The waves of the inner edge, abruptly clicked to attention.  The light from the tiny candle was extinguished.  His eyes opened trying desperately to focus on something familiar…on anything at all.  Lifting his head off the hard reality of the concrete floor he finally focused on the surrounding room in which he found himself.  He shivered with the wounded limp of a tortured animal.  He vaguely remembered…a woman, a child…perhaps even a family.  The thought quickly sunk into the depths of his confusion and terror.  Only a wild animal caught in a leg clamp, plucked from the freedom of the forest, could relate to such a hopeless situation.  No one could ignore this hurt.  Nothing at all quite relates to the loss of self.  Clearly it was far worse than death itself.  The animal became unleashed, breaking the tethers  which held it taunt.  There was nothing left to protect…nothing left to hide… nothing left to forgive.  An animal in this state simply is and simply isn’t.  Only the given moment requires any attention.  When the guard of ego is let loose against the pain of memory, a harsh situation results.  He reacts as he only could.  Lunging from his den in the corner of the cage he flung himself against the hard steel of the bars.  Screaming and frothing forth with volcanoes of hurt and unconditional hatred bubbling from every pore in his skin.  The flayed muscle and sinew against the captor of his desire.  Spewing fear surged past the aspect of safety for his physical self.  Ripping at the cement and clawing at his demons he relentlessly searched for some form of understanding of the moment.  The silence of the surrounding reality stared back with a non-judgmental understanding, clearly reflecting all Karmic laws of cause and effect in the pools of crimson clear blood forming already on the starkness of a cold floor.  The silence of this Karmic pool was interrupted only by the distorted waves echoed from the animals tortured thoughts, as they ripped from his mouth and vibrated down the long corridor of dampened silence.  The festering growth of disapproval was so “fasting” and “forceful” that he hadn’t even noticed that he was very quickly bleeding to death.  This fear had finally filled the void of nothing, which had infected his soul for so long.  The commendable, but futile attempt of escape, as he hacked away at the lock of the gate, had broken several fingers, slashed his wrist wide open and exposed a main artery to the un-confining emptiness of a cold foreign room.  His blood literally poured with his anger.  In fact, the force of the impact was so intense he hadn’t even notice he had torn most of his hand from the rest of his arm.  Spitting venom, he spewed utterances of vulgarity and industrious expletives. The determination and exactness of his destruction was ironically very intelligent and controlled.  So much so, it modeled the courage and determination of a lion as it delivers the killing frenzied blows to its latest meal.  In that place, that spot of death and clarity … the lion is truly the King of all beasts.  In that spot, lay the very lair of the lion.  That spot which had always been there, remaining silent over the eons, slowly letting the love and affection of life drip forever from his soul, finally spoke.  In fact, it had very clearly and without any question of doubt … had roared.  It wasn’t prepared to sit silent any longer, it simply couldn’t.  All those years of pent up emotion.  Eons of humanities hurt had been left to slop into that big cluttered bag of consciousness.  He had been content there for so long.  Even the lion was surprised at the fierceness of the attack.  It was so easy to fill that bag at first.  There was an incredible amount of room. 

Ah, but now…now it was overflowing with a history of neglect.  One simply couldn’t erase it.  A mime can get by without talking, but as a member of the audience you still can’t ignore the signs.  You always knew what the message was.  Those messages had been sent for years.  Sometimes his stomach issued new gallons of acid what would tighten the muscles in the solar plexus region, constructing and cutting off the natural life force and electrical flow in the body.  Headaches, major bouts of flu, colds, muscle groups tearing each other apart, resulted in many tortured, wasted days and nights.  A general dis-ease of the body was quite readily apparent for most of his adult life.  It was much easier however to ignore the signs.  Dealing with the symptoms was much less painful than finding the underlying roots of the cause.  To search for and eventually find the truth was just asking too much of him.  But now…the roaring lion had to be dealt with.  A taming of colossal proportions was obviously needed.  This was certain, as absolute as God himself, for it was from God.  It was part of God’s plan…hell, it was life itself.  But the lion had graduated to be a frightful child in disguise.  A child who needed guidance.  It had cried for years…centuries, looking for attention, only to be pushed further down into the darkness of the bag.  At first, the bag was left wide open.  Occasionally it was closed only for brief periods by the thinnest of threads.  But now, the top of the bag was clamped closed with a thick reinforced 10mm rope and tied so tight that even air had trouble entering.  Suffocation was obviously very intentional and death of the child was certain.  Well, how could any parent treat their long-lost lovely infant like that.  It simply wouldn’t do…it was unheard of!  The child was very determined not to be another piece of clothing put on sale that dear mommy couldn’t afford to purchase.  The child, actually we’ll call him “George” for lack of a better term, just wasn’t content at all.  He wouldn’t be disrobed anymore.

 

The loosening of the knot was gradual.  It started slowly to unravel and slip loose, gently pulling at the fabric of the bag.  Nor, this wasn’t going to be the case at all.  It burst open with the deliberate intent of squeezing every ounce of attention, every ounce of  Uriel from the soul of God…from the soul of the heavens…from the soul of humanity…from the ever so squeezable soul of the humble Daed Leizar.

 

Daed hadn’t even noticed the orderly, the pulsating red alarms, the five large men which were currently chasing him about the cage.  George wouldn’t let him.  He wanted to make sure that Daed got the message.  This was no longer a concern…it was quickly becoming a problem.  Humanity had a past to account for and a future to face.  George certainly wasn’t evil.  How could he be?  He just wanted to help.  It was his job.  God had asked him to keep watch for a moment.  George was quickly growing as his awareness surfaced.  He was holding his head above the water now…treading for what surely seemed an eternity.  His strength pulsated with the gift of vision.  The vibrations were implecably encoded with the intention of conscious survival.  The experience, the accumulation of history…the test of time was upon them all.  This was a time of action.  There was to be no time spend watching the telly or sitting around articulating with negative impulses of self-indulgence and self-pity.  Just a few millennium was all that was needed to teach and prepare your awakening.  Yes, very soon…even when measured by the restraints of linear time, many of you will be swimming in an ocean of truth again.  Perception thrown to the wind, the cloak of reality will raise its curtain thereby setting a stage of conscious new orders, new horizons, developing new hoops that humanity could jump through.  A sword of truth is being forged to divide the dual nature of your birth.  Surely you can sense it.  The vibrations of its intent changes the face of your planet…alters the order of structure…breathes life into the lower waters of the firmament.  As the curtain rises, the sword divides, forcing the actors to choose opposite sides of the stage.  A polarity, which has always co-existed, but was rarely consciously acknowledged now becomes painfully obvious.  Its surgically delicate acupuncture approach has now been replaced by a raving butcher with a 20-lb chain saw.  The actors are simply the masks of your perception.  You can choose to be the victim of a tragic parody or the prince of joy in a comedy of ever-lasting proportions.  Both God’s bag and cup runneth over.  Both are full…you can drink or suffocate.

 

An ocean of truth…yes, but even an ocean has currents.  Some are hot, others cold.  Swimming rivulets of contained mass separated only by their differences in density.  How much like these ocean currents we are.  We flow beside, under, through as past one another.  So similar and yet so different.  Each of us, an angel of our own garden.  You lie in your deep sleep under the rose of knowingness.  Many would damn a rose for its thorns.  But not you!  You are very close to understanding god is your rose…George is your thorn.  Recognize the thorns.  For only through acknowledgement and acceptance of the thorns can you pick the flower of God without bleeding to death.

 

Yes, the sword will divide and the thorns will prick those swimming in false currents of God’s truth.  In a dualistic reality, choice has been God given, for without choice, we can’t take sides.  We can’t move to our prospective places on the stage. 

 

A definite conscious choice must be made.  The system is so beautifully simple…it’s perfect.  The choice is yours.   Rise to the occasion.  Swim through all three oceans of your being.  Your enthusiasm, your desire and your faith is all that is required. 

 

At this point of his unstable delusive mind poor Daed Leizar felt his pain leave him.  He still was not operating at a conscious level.  The hold George had on him was gone.  George’s hold was being loosened…George was a great spirit.  But, it was time for him to pass on his experiences under a new energy.  Its time was done.  The rising fluctuating tremors of proposed sanity was winning the coperate battle over Daed’s subconscious mind.  The final frustrations of fear of George were coming out in pockets of arrogance, killing and other dark spots of contained fear.  George was slowly being transformed (replaced) into a new energy.  There was a new light, which the mother provided, to bring love and peacefulness to George, which was a good portion of Daed.  Dead felt waves of peace and love pass over him.  George was graduating to a new energy.  This energy will be called Ed.  This part of Daed was called Ed.

 

Ed, my long lost friend.  You need someone to hold you, just to keep your will alive; someone to show you how to fan that flame inside.  Life will teach you that completion must prevail.  A communion of pieces is needed to crack the veil and raise the curtain on your stage of perception.  Ego now surrounds you and darkness closes fast.  We will help you find a way into the light of our past.  Now it seems so hopeless.  Your body is cut in two; one half the sun does follow, the other half the moon won’t shine through.  We can help you find a way where you can love at last.  The riders of the apocalypse have closed in quite fast.  Down and down you traveled.  Only spirit seems to know that the harder you fall, the sooner you can let go.  Dismember your consciousness.  Pick your flesh from the bone and scatter the ashes about life, for in death you will be reborn.  Return the rib to Adam, so once again you’ll know for that which fell from the light will again earn its rightful glow.  Having turned old evil, Ed you’ll have earned the right to live.

06 Rite Of Passage

Mountain Meadow

3 comments

Blood poured from the open wounds of Ed’s straining body, oozing out in four directions from the circle of men inside the cage.  Ed’s body went limp as the guard repeatedly bludgeoned the mass of blood licked curls of hair on the top of his head with a wooden billy club.  It was a simple exercise in survival.  The brain yielded under the constant threat of physical death thereby removing the burden of thought from his tortured soul.  Ed’s nightmare was nearly over but the dream has just begun.  He would sleep, living in the dream state for just a short few more years until his chosen path would bring him back home.  Drinking from the cup on the floor of his temple, he will hopefully awaken from the dream.  A few of the first of many of the unplucked gems.  Following the paradigm of the 100^th monkey lesson the rest of humanity will follow suit. 

 

Awakening, exponentially occurring as the wave of remembrance, pushes the treading form of Daed in and out of our awareness, during this time of hate and love, doubt and faith.  The age of Piscean anger is about to end.  The Aquarian ideal is poised to pour the waters of ever-lasting peace over the face of humanity…over the anxious wrinkled soul of our mother…over the devastated body of Daed Leizar ...

The Search for the Lost HooVille

REALM 1

1a) The Fall

b) Daed and the Angel

c) Living Mind Moment

Baby Blue

Mountain Meadow

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Magic is in the way to see  So that

 Magic is in the way to see

 

So that u also can bee …

Universal achiever of a sacred tone

“I Cannot Keep From Crying Sometimes,” when it rests in my bone

Martin Simpson - "I Cannot Keep from Cryin' Sometimes"

… amour enters the story already told

And sheds her light on Jens story old

Where scientists of an earlier date

Have risen the stakes on this triangular plate

 

I dug the story of the place of We’ed

Where dancers danced and the love-bled.

And Roodabegah is a song of we

That fits nice together as we raise each layer free.

 

All will work as we flow, on a whim of the day.

Molding patterns of “THERE,” in a most glorious “play.”

 

Creating lovebrations of the di-polor songs that we let fly.

That leaves us all with SPIRITS HIGH.

 

Their’s the cutting edge of a flow that’s sharp.

It lifts ones ears like an angelic harp.

 

The cut of the air is a thing to see.

Swallow–lunged vibes have gone out 2B.

 

Hirundinida Hir-un-D-in-i-da is the plant of the day

Causing peace & love emotions to collect and stay

 

 

The medieval song of the birds in the tower

Have delivered their speech on the blooms that flower

-------------------------

Here’s to the Movers of the thoughts of us.

The creators of love that have grown their TRUST

The growers of We’eds that have certainly seen

The end of the beginning that’s’ arrived on the scene:

 

The communion of masculine & feminine in the completion of LOVE

That comes from “Manna Loa land” seen by a Dove

 

To some, it is told, that the “thoughts did wind”

To bring together this LOVE of mind

 

For in this love it is most certainly true

I’ve saved this last love as a function for U

 

An ascension to grand LOVE, is the step on the stairs

Understanding THE GIFT is sent from all Hoo care

 

The last love is the Agape of the Da-vine

A powerful wave that gives one the HS-Vector-Shine

 

Love is the Vibe that centers, then flips us around

To continue our venture above solid ground

 

Bring the leaders of the celestial group of FUN

Those righteous Lords who make “fear” undun.

 

Well, "some" just wrote some grand stuff to be

However it was ever sent out to cover the C?

 

Yet again, current writings have been PHASED Out of Time

In this place of "HERE", where they’ll have no trail of their vibrations unkind.

 

Thieves of the night again have taken things to early to pass ….

Word Braid_1

Word Braid_2

and

“Jasper Songbird’s” a “Spoonful Medley” that gathers "LIGHT" from above.

 

Martin Simpson - Jasper Songbird/Spoonful Medley

-Braided Words to Braided Hair-

Newton Faulkner - Teardrop (Comical intro: Rusted Root)

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S1S2S3

S1S2S3 OVAL

WTF …………. Unk

There’s much to decide

 

 And … I can’t Really Tell

 

 

where    ONEs

 

 

H

  INNER

8

Is

l

H

 

                                                               OUTER

                                      

                        ….. and

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3 … As Well

Just a quickie testing the water-proofity of my video camera. GLUB...GLUB...GLUB...

Layers Of the World- Subjective / Objective Mind Way

 

There’s a “PUFFin” on your belly.

A wash of colors form the “clue.”

A mystical bird survives,

in the youthful “zeal” of you.

Darrwin tells a story with biological determinization,

upon  different levels of thought.

One can take the higher train running, on calmer levels,

of relating existence to the spirit sought.

 

There is a passion in the wind

That washes all through U

My horizons merge together to center

ones attention of the vital sea of blue

 

Flow with the manna; the Mind metaphor sent by a thought vortex “whine.”

Then … Manna-manna flows as a body wave sent to ones higher spiritual mind,

that is your guardian to the grave …

That “vital spark” ascends up to the energy of manna Loa … that energy so kind

 

Astral body blue that your etheric doth shine

It floats through cycles of a never-ending wine-laced path

That vortex of love shall pull you back through time

To see the outcome that you’ve written on your staff

 

Metal flashes, in and out, of this place of rent

That, this day, has meshed with the “light”

To attain the right to govern this energy you’ve spent,

A circle of light surrounds your cell of sovereign “right”

 

The mind metaphor becomes so true

That you live-in-it to flow into

Upon that momentary  “rest” in the balance of U

 

Simplistic love of a divine repertoire

That one has sent their amasser to agglomerate this “Kiss”

That is there before your birth, having formed in the trinity of bliss

 

 When vibrations of your song flow with the freedom of youth

Heaven then, always evident, has placed a

“Hole” in your “roof”

 

Divine Wisdom shall grace your love with mine

Together … then the journey is complete

And the Love attained shall …

 

Mend the holes in our feet

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… It was a long trail that we had transgressed. The path that this earlier animal –“mountain sheep” I believe; had formed, allowed us to gain some height quickly. It was snowing on the path that we had left behind for the Wild Gang Group to bring our remaining extra supplies to … to our tired and exhausted "discovery party." There was no-way-now to complete that  for the fast mountain weather changes had sharply eroded any lingering hope that we could retain about this perilous task,  we had set out to do.

The waves of the lower conscious streams had crept far, far down the rabbit hole on the edge of disappearance of our collective thought, a few memories that we had built into the subconscious field of Ascention Harmonization. The group was tired, but “hope” still allowed us to discretion the slight fingerings of sound that we could hear in the neutrinic plasma bubble that existed in our etheric envelope that fit tightly around our physical body.

The light support system, of our interacting minds, of the trinity of our consciousness.

Others could sense my thoughts in this state of elapsed congruence. The sound of “snapping” twigs behind me, made me spin around rather abruptly …

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I was even more surprised to see the fall was due to a glass lamp that Cindee had stumbled over in her stuttering mind. A mind that was stuttering for she no longer had the ability to focus on more intercepting levels of dimensional interaction. She could no longer distinguish the difference in these realities. I could feel my thoughts be dissolved into the matrix that existed around us. The thoughts, once so clear, full and distinct would no longer remain in the grasp of my intellectual prosperity that it once was. However … I thought to myself, this is so hard to keep the “multitracking”  of my mind alive. Perhaps, the other “WRITERS  (Authors),” many of which are in contact with me, on some level. Then away my mind went, when the “writer” took grasp of my scattered thoughts when I sat down to type this whatever-it-is. This what-ever-it-is to whom-ever shall-read-it, when-ever-its-time-to-be.

 

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… So as usual the snapping twig was just a note from the living mind to suggest that there was someone following us. The trees would tend to bow over, as the wind flowed as a more extensive “intensifier” force, with the hardening feelings I felt grow inside me over the distrust of the situation. Intensive forces often kept me quite “tingly,” however it generally was with a state of “excited enthusiasm.” At these times it was always beneficial for me to sit down with nature. Contemplation was indeed needed now. Soon!  Find a selective perch on which to gather my force, letting nature provide me with the needed power. I could in fact feel so connected to her that I needed nothing more but her feminine understanding ways to enter into my field… Our at least amplify those highlighted understanding of that feminine side of myself… Or should I say Me, myself and I.

 

This feminine spirit of Soultaw (Spirit of universal LOVE, TRUTH and WISDOM) was the shin of the tetragrammation.  We then did the usual exercises that would allow the conscious and subconscious fields to move together, winding and flowing, like sinusoidal wave forms that never stay together in one ray. This would not become a solid force of light until we had centered all the notes of our frequency together… together to form a natural song that flowed with the emotional clearness of the music-maker. The noise was enharmonic now, with flashes of discordant rays. However, the more I sat and combined the two layers of self, then she was there…. “THERE” to bring me the understanding “HERE.” At times with unscattered thought, thereby intensifying the ability to “will” myself into that reality, sometimes happened with little effort.  Move from “here to there” and” there to here.” However was it in this place – In this same “world.” In this dimensional segment of “time” or in this fractal of the “ever", or in this ripple –in-the-pond, wave in the Ocean? They simply all were ways of describing that which we are. For we are the mind. However-we-work with these conscious flows, depends on the personality involved. Some create great things, but their egos still govern what they say and do. To these ones I say … JUST LET GO!  The oppressive, hatefull energy has more or less been worked out of all channels, programs, plays, segments, bubbles etc. of what-ever-it-is,  that you need to pull yourself through the veils of containment. Its acting up again because we need to feel much more calm. You yourself are contained in an energy shield of light. Your corpusle, your cocoon, your field of yourself. Your ball of energy that you are … You conscious moving agglomerate of U. Your cluster of beauty. You’re an amorphous blob of pure love. You rise like the droplets of water that are lifted up a plane of glass, by sharp warm blasts of wind. Rain simply IS. You Simply Are.

 

R What?

 

Escape these endless cycles of repetitive thinking and living, to become the extending lower left limb of the R, that extends at a 90 degree angle into the paper ... And beyound.

 

The music extremely helped calm my emotional body now. From "there" to "here" in the same dimension, thus doing the “bilocating thing.” Or are we like the visiting members (which there are a lot of) of our conscious Earth field. For many have been added to the skies of our mother, to loose their memory of what was before. They fall down the conscious ladder of existence. They are that ladder. This ladder is us. We simply develop ways to remember ourselves back to that conscious state of freedom. Like the pounding beats of the noises of this arena. Of this play. Of this life. But therefore, where did /do we become?

What becomes of “THIS” that is “THAT”?

 

"TH(h)" is the carrier?

The carrier of IS’s and “At’s”

R U a carrier?

 

Is and at’s are the passengers. We R carriers and We  R

Passengers

 

Our consciousness is everything!

Like nature it simply flows with the conscious flows of the higher minds that we are.

Peace …. We Want peace

Then

We simply R PEACE

 

B what U R

U R PEACE

 

U R CC

 

U Have CC

U H CC

UHC squared

 

You Have Canadian Comfort

 

Yes the calmness of a Canadian Winter. Calmness in the mountains. Like a soft enveloping  field of covering warmth.

-Enveloping begins with Inveloping-

 For those who have been tentless, or  spent a night sleeping in the snow, then know that snow is in fact like a warm blanket  of covering to keep the cold wind from attacking your stillness. Outside in the middle of winter … Have you done that?  Have you been there?  Well … Sorry, I regressed, I do not want to bring that there “HERE”

 

So, I sat on that particular ledge that I often frequented. My Secret Place In the Mountains.

 

And the story goes that the native leaders of this part of Western Canada and the Northern United States would all meet every few years to define the outlay of things to come. Each tribe had it’s own way of doing things. The tentposts of this community had to often pull their shit together. To help awaken the outgoing flow of their fellow awakeners.

Then I …

… closed my eyes. Took deep breaths and began to center myself. The energy rose up from my tailbone through the cells in my body, up the spine, moving into each cell and neutrino of my physical body, knees cock, ass, tummy, heart, neck, throat, ears, face eyes, brow and crown. My heart tingled with excitement when I made the connection to the masculine and feminine Earth & Sky -Christ energies. My "Here" and "There" were connected. I shone with the love of "nature" connected to the "source" that it came from. I felt the large flakes of snow drop into the quietness of this space that I now inhabited. A space where the obstructions had been removed. When there are no obstructions, then one has a clear undisturbed field of communication with the source.

And in this unobstructed space I would often hear a distinct sound of the wood chopper cutting his wood.

 

This is a sign from the “Living Mind” that I have been given - bringing “There” Here. And yet I bounce back and forth between segments of these co-existing lives.

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I noticed that, like me, she had more problems keeping the memories of her existence in an ordered fashion in her head. The multiple dimensional combining had set their outlays for her to follow. The outlays that her comforter or guardian spirit had lined up for her to decide upon, so that the present would exist as that (a Present). She was daily receiving “presents”, or gifts, that her thoughts had allowed her to experience. The hermetic helpers that she had grown use too, gave way to the power of the “comforter.” And each choice she made, brought those future events into her realm of commitment.

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And the “sounds” in my field began to grow. I could hear the vortexs of the Tibetan bells circling a new opening from which to pass me through.  Yet another time traveling event to the [life as an “explorer”] opening up a new passage for the fur trade to find a fast route to the western shores [in this time of beginning the trading markets "thing"] in this place of the "VILLAGE."

Yes, I remember the energy of this place. The place that the local Indians had guided me too, based on their communicative spirit of the land … Yaweh Wichastabi … “Wizatabe” … Or something like that spelling!?  Every spot has its governing connected energy of the area. This energy that

I had grown to know while I was one such guide in the area (guide to myself – For I often simply followed myself around.) Content with the moment. Or at least now I continually live in that peace. Live in that space. If, I took time to get back to U on something,  It's simply because now I’m on "Indian time" … Which to me means "abstract time." Abstract time. Time of the right side of your mind for all us Hermetitic-like thinkers. However, one day I was reading  this: “While walking through the forest the goddess or energy of this place had stopped the local “chief” and said: You shall no longer follow me … For the new man (pastor) coming to this land has a more powerfull god that will now lead you.” A close native brother stopped and asked him “Why do you stop?” The chief replied because a voice just spoke to me. “And what did it say?, his brother asked him.  Read above!. The natives accepted and took on a new force that combined with their more abstract ways of working with the source, their ancestory, and their way of life with nature. Yes, on the combined aboriginal energy of “no time” (natural time) and the objective reality that the white man brought, the natives of western Canada and myself had covered some new territory. All the old ways are being grouped together so we have a common understanding of a "NEW WAY." There were many places where the local inhabitants of this area would meet in a secret place in the mountains to discuss their directions of the many different tribes. They would meet and solve problems of the day …. Of the moment. This … Here that I now currently speak from. I come from my

Secret Place In the Mountains.

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Yes, I been placing a few more “tunes” together to add to my ways of expressing how consciousness works. The book that I started in the 1980’s I shall soon start to amass together. One is offered many “strings” that exist to take them down many roads of “understanding processes.” Understanding” so thast they have the wisdom to choose rightly in their experience. But alas sometimes for the true adventurer the experience happens before one has the understanding of that which is to happen. Then, then …

                                                                   ………… then,

 

One Must go on FAITH

 

Cindee, don’t you think we should combine our energies through meditation and picture what “we want” to a field that manifestation techniques would start to form in this reality …. Or at least into a reality somewhere where the electromagnetic frequencies are definitely more akin to our frequencies. We need to find that fathom or horizon where we can combine ourselves into the vibe of the surrounding electromagnetics where we can live out our potential … Or not! 

OUR CHOICE!

Is this not heaven? A few years back we lived … I lived in the more subjective part of my mind. I swam  with that reality that existed above the man-made Laws of physics and particle determination of how things were suppose to act (yet I learned those scientific aspects that aided me in my "understanding"). Yes we were changlings. Not the useual “bullshit” that the more aggressive-taking-side of our consciousness wishes to push us back to ... to remain in this isolated field of nil imagination. Yes we should travel on the road today to get to that place of great natural beauty and wonderment … To that Secret Place In the Mountains.

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Now … in the future I remember having seen drawings of this place in the mountains (that the local city newspaper had once shown) … say around late 1990’s or so. The drawings or pictures (can’t recall) were drawings of these  metal structures  (well it shone like metal) that I now call "Home". They exist as solitary shining statues around the large Mountain Meadow where the Elk tend to frequent. “Elk” - the animal metaphor of stamina.

One Needs "Elk Energy" to get their subconscious & conscious minds working together.

So I lowered myself, from my house, on a beam of antimatter onto this clear, solitary, open field to go to that Secret Place In the Mountains

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Upon being THERE. I listened to the music that immediately came to my ears.

It was how nature sounds to me. Each entity playing …

… playing in a field of unobstructed space. In that space you are consciousness. Everything has a consciousness.

Your layers of self react to layers of this world ... Of this current reality.

 

I could envision the “players” of self, of each conscious level. The sounds were unique. Unigue to me. I was simply told ... cause I felt it.She had gifted me with the truth of "knowing".  I was to listen … To meditate to the vibrations that nature created. My third eye opened up and I was

INNER & OUTER EXPERIENCE.

The music playing was done by us. The "us" in "me."

I know that my subconscious mind had matured for he said “goodbuy” before he walked through the door of this Secret Place.

 

Nothing mattered because everything mattered.

And
I felt great joy as I just simply became.

 

... 4 We Always Become What We Became

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... And the Snow continued to fall …

I had the pleasure of interviewing Hal twice on my radio program and developed a true fondness for him from those brief conversations. I was truly saddened to hear of his passing. Dr. Amarena, a protege of Hal's, contacted me to inform me of the news and to ask for working links to the interviews I conducted. as many of you know, I had to password protect my original Tie-dyed Brain Rays blog on Typepad due to a stalking and threatening incident earlier in the year.

As I began to explore my options for getting the posts about Hal over to my VOX blog, or removing the password from my Typepad blog and tucking away some older, more sensitive assets for safe keeping, I stumbled across a post from April of '06 when the radio stations had just changed hands, my salary had been cut in half by the outgoing regime and we had no idea what to expect from the new owners. It was a tense, depressing time, but one event buoyed my spirits-- the event described in a post from April 5, 2006 titled, "Songs And Darkness."

The radio stations have been sold and new owners take possession on the 11th. It is a subject I've been silent on out of an intense desire for self-preservation, although I could tell some stories that would make you shake your head in disbelief (and have the audio tapes to prove them.)

The transition has been painful to say the least, although I have been assured that I will keep my job. "The Drive" will most likely go away with the arrival of the new owners and a new format. It has been suggested that I may become a producer for one of the talk radio shows, or perhaps some other form of low-level management minion with hit points of 0 and charisma of -1.

Each day as I pull into the parking lot my chest seizes with the uncomfortable tightness that comes from not knowing what office drama will be unfolding when I hit the door. Yet, I persevere. Today I was able to duck and cover so as to not get any of it on me, although there was plenty to go around.

But when I got to the studio I was informed that even though the transmitter was down I should do my show as usual because it might come back up. So for over an hour I played music and yakked into the microphone as if I were on the air... As if anyone was listening... As if it mattered. The rest of my night consisted of cutting the overnight weather, checking the fax machine a couple of times and pretty much watching the walls until time to go home. Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to show up.

When at last the time came, I put the radio stations to bed, gathered my things and headed toward the door. Just then the phone rang. Who calls a radio station at straight-up Midnight? I figured it was one of the out-going regime making sure I hadn't left 30 seconds early. That really put a wrinkle in my jockeys. I was anxious to get home and put the finishing touches on my tribute to Star Trek fan films and didn't have time to play these silly games.

"Hey, I just wanted you to know that I think you guys are the greatest," said the unsteady voice on the other end of the phone. The impediment sounded natural, with perhaps only the slightest help from something medicinal.

Great, one of those.

I put on my perky voice. "What can I do for you?" I asked, hoping I could rush him off the phone after a quick request.

"I can't remember the name of the song or who it's by," He said.

I sighed to myself. These guys always take forever. The sad part is that even if he remembered the title and artist, I couldn't play it anyway since what we were broadcasting at the moment was a satellite feed from God only knows where.  But the dutiful DJ response is, "I'll see if I can find it," or "I'll pass your request along to the air-staff."

Then he said, "My name is Frank and I work at Wal-Mart. I listen to you all the time and I think you guys are wonderful." He went on, "I'm fifty-five years old and I lost my son about four years ago when he was fourteen. You play some wonderful music that helps me feel better. Sometimes I come out to the lake at night and listen to you on my little headset and watch the water. I'm sitting here looking at the lake right now." I could hear the station playing softly in the background.

I tried to offer a kind word, but I was a little choked up. I could hear the loneliness in his voice. I could hear the gratitude he felt toward us for being there-- a friendly voice in the darkness, playing songs from better days. It seems odd that someone could feel such a personal connection to people who hadn't a clue he even existed, but perhaps that voice in the darkness was the closest thing he had to a friend. I wonder how many Franks there are, alone in the night, tuning in to the voice like a beacon of human contact. Perhaps it is not an exaggeration to imagine for some it is the only thing connecting them with the rest of humanity.

Maybe in a way the music that we play is somehow a shared experience, as if they feel we are choosing each song just for them; saying to them, "Hey Frank, remember when you brought your kid to the lake and he caught his first fish? This song was on the radio then too." I wished that he could remember the title of the song he had wanted to hear. I wished that I could play it for him. I stumbled through the perfunctory promise to look for it in the music library. I thanked him for his call and wished him well. He expressed his thanks again and we hung up. I came home to write this. Frank returned to the voice, the darkness, the waves, and songs from better days.

Call it coincidence, fate or the mysterious hand of God, but I needed to hear Frank's voice tonight as much as he needed to hear mine. I hope that by some quirk of luck the satellite DJ will play the song Frank was hoping to hear. I hope he feels that he made the connection he reached out to make. I know I won't soon forget him. I know why I'm going to work tomorrow.

When I read this over again tonight it kind of reached out and grabbed me by the throat. It has not a thing in the world to do with Hal Graham, other than perhaps to remind us that even in the briefest encounters with our fellow humans we make an impression. We never know when or how a simple off hand remark might build up-- or tear down-- another individual. Hal, with his good nature, gentle humor and mad ukulele skills impressed me as a man to look up to and emulate. I know he was a friend and mentor to many in the rocketbelt field. I know Dr. Amarena would agree.
A little later I will sort out all this blogging nonsense so that Dr. Amarena can put together his memorial. I'm honored that he would like to use my interviews. I'm proud to be a small part of the tribute to Harold "Hal" Graham, Rocketbelt Pilot, ukulele player and all around mensch.

Thank you all for your indulgence in my little digression into Songs and Darkness. I don't know why, but I just felt a need to share it again.