Category Archives: Writing

Dreamer- Sometimes understood…

…as an insult. It’s not. It’s a type of mind.

 

dreamer

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The psycopath vs. The Empath

“The supreme mystery of despotism,

its prop and stay,

is to keep men in a state of deception,

and cloak the fear

by which they must be held in check,

so that they will fight

for their servitude as if for salvation.”

Baruch Spinoza

Are you fighting for your servitude as if for your salvation?

Then you have been well-deceived. You have been sheeple-compromised. Your thoughts are not your own. Your actions are not your own. You are in all ways a conditioned puppet who is under the delusion that it is free, and the psychopaths of the world are your uncompromising puppet masters.

The questions you need to be asking yourself are:

“Am I willing to do what it takes to become free? Am I ready for the uncomfortableness of undeceiving myself? Would I rather be slapped by the truth or kissed with a lie?

Am I willing to sacrifice my comfortable lie for the uncomfortable truth? Am I strong enough to fall from the ‘grace’ of my delusion onto the hard and unforgiving ground of truth? And most of all: do I have the courage to disobey?”

In order to answer these questions effectively, indeed in order to come up with better questions, we must be able to transform our would-be psychopathology into a courageous in-the-now empathology.

Cancer begins with a group of cells that fail to communicate with the conscious signal of the host.

These cells become competitive instead of cooperative. When competition become primary and cooperation secondary, then we know we have failed as a species.

Collectively, among every human, vanity leads to segregation and competition, competition leads to fear and greed, greed leads to deceit and immorality, and deceit and immorality are the breeding ground for illness waging war on each other and our earth.

Every act of hatred and self-destructiveness in our world begins with self-hate and self-destructiveness. And it all begins with a breakdown in communication.

We have lost the ability to communicate with each other as natural human beings. We have lost the ability to communicate with nature in a healthy way. These unconscious acts of unlearning are systemic and passed down from unhealthy generation to unhealthy generation.

It’s time to break apart the parochial chain of our outdated value system. It’s time to unfuck ourselves out of this unhealthy and unsustainable debacle.

Like R.D. Laing said,

“We are effectively destroying ourselves by violence masquerading as love.”

The simplest way is to be the change we wish to see in the world so that we can be a force of nature powerful enough to also change the world.

But another way is to undeceive ourselves, to become compassionate and empathic to the plight of others, and to sprinkle bits of truth over the mass deception like seeds that will eventually grow into a force to be reckoned with.

As it stands, mankind is caught in the cycle of fear, apathy and hatred.

A society based upon fear, apathy and hatred sets up a system which is fundamentally incapable of producing health and happiness and thereby represses human development.

And here we are:

living in a world where human development is being repressed, at the detriment of our individual health and the health of the ecosystem.

However, our escape from this unhealthy pattern lies not only in rebellion, but also in the cultivation of a personal freedom and a relinquishing of all forms of anesthesia and self-deception.

Indeed, while authentic freedom is not easily attained, its deficiency is evident in the devastation to both the individual and the greater culture, as the myopic conformists seek to victimize each other and repeatedly inflict violence upon the world in order to maintain the illusion of comfort and power that is being protected by the banner of their deception.

 Like Arno Gruen said,

“If people base their identity on identifying with authority, freedom causes anxiety. They must then conceal the victim in themselves by resorting to violence against others.”

Understand: the world was made to be free in.

Give up all the other worlds except the one in which you are free; whether that world be your family, your country, your religion, or your politics. Escape any world that doesn’t allow you to be free. A clear sign that you are not free is that you are being deceived.

The question is: are you okay with being deceived?

As Chris Hedges warns,

“We live in imaginary, virtual worlds created by corporations that profit from our deception.”

It is precisely these virtual worlds that we need to turn the tables on. Virtual worlds are tools.

We need to go from being irresponsible tools succumbing to a deceptive system, to using our tools responsibly and empathically so as to transform the system into a healthier version of itself.

There is a war going on between manipulative liars and compassionate truth tellers, between psychopaths and empaths.

Which side are you on?

This also begs the question:

are you lying to yourself, which happens to be one of the most difficult questions to answer honestly, but ask it you must, lest you fall too easily into the hands of the nearest con artist or snake-oil salesman.

Beware the tyranny of habit.

Be not inflexible. The more elastic and fluid you are, the more you’ll stay afloat when the crushing waters of vicissitude come crashing through, and the more you’ll be prepared to be a beacon of hope for others.

Change is not easy, it never has been. But change is inevitable. We either wreck ourselves and the world trying to prevent it, or we adapt and overcome in order to evolve with it.

One of my duties as a periphery keeper in this world is to penetrate deception, turn over rocks, awaken people to concealed truths, and to create deep awareness.

I say, instead of trying to possess Truth; let yourself be possessed by it. So it goes: I am not a victim of the world, I am the world.

But that wasn’t always the case. I used to work for the NSA via the US Navy as a crypto-analyst. Yes, I was naïve. I, like many innocent sailors, soldiers, airmen, and marines, was duped into believing that I was honorably fighting and spying to protect the lives of the innocent people of the world.

I was wrong. I was bamboozled. We were bamboozled. That was all just doublespeak.

We were actually there to fight and spy on behalf of an immoral plutocratic corporate regime that is still in power today. We were there to be pawns in a giant game of chess over oil and power. We were conditioned cogs in an immoral clock of systematic propaganda and unethical orders.

They used fear tactics to keep us paranoid. They used false titles and fake rank to play upon our passions. They used those same false titles to play upon our pride, by giving us empty ribbons, flashy medals of nothing, and rank that meant nothing more than that you were a good little obedient sheep to an immoral juggernaut of well-deceived men.

Well screw that…!

War is not peace. Ignorance is not strength. Freedom is not slavery.

“If you would be a real seeker after truth,” wrote Rene Descartes, “it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things.”

And so I did exactly that.

I decided to undeceive myself, using a ruthless self-interrogation process and a humor of the most high to reveal the truth hidden behind the smoke and mirrors of mass deception. What I learned rocked my world, as it has many others. But my liberation was my salvation

The pain that came from knowledge was exceptionally more rewarding than the bliss that came from ignorance. My fall was profound, but when I hit the ground, I relearned how to fall in love.

Like Sogyal Rinpoche said,

“Each time the losses and deceptions of life teach us about impermanence, they bring us closer to the truth. When you fall from a great height, there is only one possible place to land: on the ground – the ground of truth.

And if you have the understanding that comes from spiritual practice, then falling is in no way a disaster, but the discovery of an inner refuge.”

The only way that deception is moral is through the artistic process.

Like Marco Tempest said,

“Art is a deception that creates real emotions – a lie that creates a truth. And when you give yourself over to that deception, it becomes magic.”

We need more of this magic, especially in a world more and more devoid of magic.

It is magic precisely because it transforms deception into truth, and so has the power to transform psychopaths into empaths, by planting seeds like tiny, packaged beacons of hope.

Whether it is Charlie Hebdo comic strips or articles like this one, art can literally change the world.

Our audacious art is like swordplay in the brain, proving that the pen is indeed mightier than the sword. With it we can cut the yoke of deception that has been passed down from an unethical power structure made up of psychopathic men hell-bent on maintaining their power to the extent that it is destroying the world.

Like Arno Gruen said,

“No matter how much lip service those committed to power (psychopaths) may pay to the principle of equality (empaths), they can never approach their fellow human beings on an equal footing; their relationships with others are defined solely in terms of power and weakness.

Therefore, they must accumulate as much power as possible, with the aim of becoming invulnerable and proving this invulnerability.”

It is the duty of artistic empaths the world over to meet this false invulnerability with the truer power of absolute vulnerability, and art will be our vehicle.

Courage is not being invulnerable, like a machine. Courage is not an unwavering hardness, like a tank. It is a soft plasticity, like water. I beseech you, you who would dare greatly, look not for what’s solid within you, look instead for what is soft and malleable. The courage will come.

Like Bruce Lee pouring water in and out of a cup, saying “Be water, my friend,” your softness will take shape and assume the form of empathy which has the power to crush all forms of psychopathology, and its shape will be an adventure of the most high.

People often ask me, baffled,

“Why do you go against the laws of men?”

And I say to them,

“Because your swords will never be as sharp as my pen.”

More at “Psychopath vs. Empath – The War Between Evolution and Stagnation“.

by Gary ‘Z’ McGee

January 22, 2015
from WakingTimes Website

The many divisions.

Find a way to recognize the bright sea around us. And gently move with its currents towards more balance each time. To feel how everything flows through everything in the presence of all of us. Let’s call ourselves Us for a second.—galactic independence day? Is that the right word? In-dependence. Not dependant anymore. But that’s an illusion, the problem was always a lack of togetherness. So we see ourselves further separated left to conquer our battles.

We don’t acknowledge that we’re very dependant. And recognizing that should be a thing of mindful care. A thing of tenderness, to be a whole Earth again and broadcast it to the everything, so it flows yet again through everything. This time we will be paying attention. Is that the “expectant attention” concept reviewed? Perhaps, but calling specifically to the brightest more sincere side of our being.

Words are not my words, words are just the strings out of which any tune can be played.
I can be sincere with momma therefore I can be sincere with the world, the mother Earth. Momma taught me how to be a teacher.
Sitting on top of Pluto we begin to recognize the music of each of the spheres. We perceive the symphony from the farthest place we’ve touched. From outside we move back into the inside towards the core of the Sun. we hear the music bounce off of the rest of the planets. We acknowledge our place in the universe. Fall in complete amazement of hearing the special tune of the universe and played it on guitar.
I see the point of learning from living masters. The sum total of living beings on the planet have a piece to the puzzle, so every time a new life comes in the pieces re distribute and a new piece emerges.

Letter 4

I want to take you through the journey of my visions. Towards the deepness of my heart. I see your eyes and it is all light. Emanating from the womb of the mother that gives birth to all of the stars. I want to take you there, to the only place I know that has mirrors big enough for you to fully grasp the wonders of your essence. The one that infuses me with mezmerizing hope, of sensing you, just around the corner, anticipating the moment when our looks intertwine, just a split of a second and I recognize my whole being reflected upon the breath you take, that very moment, where I’m finally able to take you to that place filled with stars, that you put inside my chest. It beats intensely, even more so as we get into that split second where I tell you what you’ve made of me, from so far away, without inhabiting the same space.

Letter 3

…But yet again that light brings me the sound of your voice. How I wish to be your fuel for such wonderful tone flowing through your lungs. So I can feel purpose inside this twister of feelings.

I know these are profound and very incomprehensible feelings. but you bring inspiration to me, One that I want you to harvest through me, It’s my way of giving back to you. Please live beyond me, it doesnt matter if it signifies my end if you get to live with my story in your hands.

Please realize that all I want is for you to know how you emerged in my dreams and became so real…until I could no longer breath.

I wish I could no longer breath.I wish I could be with you right now, but I feel so useless and far apart,

What does it take? If I scream my lungs out. Would you hear me before I die?

I’ve been watching you sing all night, swimming in your essence. how lucky those graced with your presence, while I’m dragged far away.

You don’t know me, but how I wish you could hear me. I am absent but how I wish you could feel me. I bathe in your sweet voice, waiting for death to come. If only I could know what is there inside your heart. I’ll visit you, taste you, breath you, and finally, I will go away hoping that you’ll want me back, even if it is in those rapid dreams.

The only part of my life I do know and as sudden as it is, it’s all I live for.

I don’t know what I am but I love you.

 

Letter 2 – The ocean over me

But I can’t deny. You are IT, and IT is you.

You have given birth to this version of me and out of that realization I give birth to the love that belongs to you. Created alone, in silence, for too many days to count. Unbelievable even to myself. Now I feel it all at once …the distance between us and your closeness to me lips.

I feel the wholeness of you though you’ve never touched me. I know the light in your eyes though you’ve never seen me. I’ve tasted the sweetness of your essence though you don’t know I exist.

I choose to keep loving you. I can’t deny it. I’ve drowned in your absence. But time whispers to me. I can hear it even from the bottom of the ocean. Your hypnotizing voice mutates into the air that breath, here below this weight. The ocean over me.

You’re still written on my path and each day tells me how close you become. I can’t deny. You shine so bright  it makes it through a block of darkness, quietness, it draws the way to you. I’m your mirror.

You aren’t mine, you belong to the wind. You are the current, you sway me inside this water which is all there is, your uniqueness, scattered all over me. And the dark becomes light of your absence I recognize IT is you. The one I will always love together or apart.

So now has come. Do you see me?

You don’t know me, but do you see me amongst the crowd ?

There’s only one that has been whispering to you. Remember your dreams and you will remember me.

Yours Sincerily,

Just a Thought

I Hope I Find My Worth

This society promt us to let out everything we are and everything we’re not, even though nobody wants to listen or see for sure, we can’t look inside ourselves, yet we go mad trying to be seen.

 

“There is a great deal that either has to be given up or be taken away from if you are going to succeed in writing a body of work” (a metaphor for life)  -Susan Sontag

 

“Greatest subject, self seeking to transcend itself” – Susan Sontag

 

 

Consciousness = Soul = The Chooser = Quantum physics can only describe objects to the point they remain possibilities to be converted into actual experiences there must be a chooser, but detached. The Chooser is free. =Free Will = Stringing along = ?

What is 8th Dimensional Consciousness = certain level of incoherence.

Death does exist = Forgetting

 

 

Letter – Part 2

I sense myself slowly drifting away trying to make sense of that which does not need to be rationalized. With such tenderness you laugh at my concern. You say—This isn’t just my creation it is a place for the two of us created long ago. Today it looks like a river flowing beyond what our eyes can see, tomorrow, it could be a huge mountain to be conquered by our witts and by our desire to go further than here, than now.

What else do you know?

You laugh—That’s the thing, the comfort of not knowing brought me here. It is unusual that I take the time to listen to this strange calling. Like a wave that rises big and mighty over the horizon, when it gets to shore it is barely  a third of what it was. But, does it mean it is any less or insignificant? that question somehow got intertwined with your voice, calling my name. It opened a window very similar to the one from which you came in here. I needed to be alone, so I explored the site, can’t say for how long. There’s no such thing here. But when I was finally sure, ready to taste the water, I saw you ready to hold my hand and I knew.

Comeback with me. So I can contemplate your figure resting on my bed, capturing my senses, filling me up with inspiration. Like when my guitar sits by the corner whispering a sweet melody inviting me to play it. But I know better than that. I can feel my desperation trying to hold on to one static feeling, risking to hold you hostage, trying to rest assured that you are mine. Catching you as my muse, spreading everything you mean to me in the form of letters, paintings and portraits  over my walls. But here, in this eternal now, the real you is the one that comes and goes leaving me out in the cold so I can feel your warmth anew. Like a blind person seeing colors for the first time, like getting back my breath after almost being drowned.

Just like that I know it is time to go. Your soft hand going through my hair, releases my fear. You grab my face and look at me with the sincerity of a child and the confidence of an old soul that has known many paths. You say—There is no way I can forget what is in here. This Í can call reality. It made an imprint in my memory that can’t be erased. Not by the dangers of everyday life nor by the doubts that eat us at the other side. Even if standing there I find these soon to be memories are too good to be true. Your kind of touch is something I’ve always long for, now I can call that by your name, my mind will resist but my heart won’t.

I know I’ll go back.

I know I’ll remember every detail

I know I will still taste your sweetness

I know I’ll see the vanishing mark of your lips on my neck

I will do my best to avoid despair taking over me.

I’ve seen the real you.

The one that feeds life into everything you touch, including myself. I’ll write the melody of this moment and play it everywhere I go until your being perceives it, hoping it would spark a minimum insight to what we’ve experienced here. If you  forget my name there will always be the music that carries the key to this special place of ours of our hearts combined.

 

Yours Sincerily,