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The following is an excerpt from The Sync Book: Myths, Media, Magic and Mindscapes, an anthology that came out on 9/11/11 in which 26 bloggers/writers/artists share their perspective on the strange and beautiful universe in which we live. Available here.

 

Sync

Generally speaking, when one seemingly significant thing or event echoes another, in a way that can't be understood causally, some call the phenomena synchronicity. As the connection between these thing-events1 and what makes them significant, is up to the interpretation of the individual, this kind of sync is relative. The decision that the relationship between one thing and another is entirely understood (being then normal cause and effect), or not (being then sync), also rests with personal interpretation. It is then an opinion to say "this" is connected to "that," or not.

The word coincidence is generally associated with thing-events that echo one another through chance.2 The decision that something is chance or more mysterious also lies in the murky phantom world of opinion. Synchronicity and coincidence are the same thing, only the individual bias over whether the relationship is meaningful or arbitrary changes. Two people will witness the same events and one will call it coincidence and the other sync. This is an issue of individual temperament-and does not change whether the thing-event took place or not.

 

All is sync or nothing is sync

Everything is connected to everything else,3 sync being the cases when our current perspective allows us to see these thing-events as related (or as not divided). Often the seemingly random and meaningless will later be understood as perfectly "in sync," when the perspective shifts appropriately. In this view of sync, we now move away from seeing synchronicity as the connections deemed special and move into a knowing of that property which makes one connection meaningful or not-a property that is always present, because it is ourselves. Syncs offer endless insight into the world, but their most essential quality is in vivifying what and who really allows for them.

If we reflect on one of those amazing animations where we zoom in (or out) infinitely on a fractal Mandelbrot set, we notice that, at points, the entire shape comes into focus and then recedes into strange and dazzling complexity. This happens repeatedly, regardless of where we travel on the infinite complexity of the fractal, as it always resolves into the same familiar shape eventually.

Our macro/microcosm has the same property. We have all seen films where the camera moves rapidly between vast amounts of space containing familiar forms like atoms, molecules and cells-eventuating into a creature or plant that would be part of our normal experience or magnification. Further "up," we have the same dynamic: the clutter of streets and houses resolving into patterned cities; later becoming the planet; moving through the vastness of empty space; resolving into the solar system . . . much more space and we see the galaxy, etc.

Sync compares, in the fractal example, to the points at which we see a whole familiar shape after lots of complexity, and, in the micro/macro images, to the moments when we recognize a familiar form resolving after much empty space. The sync is always part of the whole, made up of the interconnected infinite thing-events, but stands out as where we-owing to our unique perspective-resolve this complexity into something conceivable and as associated to other parts of our experience.

All understanding is sync, which is simply association, relationship or connections between thing-events. We derive meaning from putting things and events together to tell ourselves a story. Without constantly making associations we would be lost in perplexing noise and chaos, all the information coming at us making no sense at all. What we generally call synchronicity is the fringe of this everyday activity. Creating unusual associations (that eventually become accepted as universal) is how we expand the parameters of the consensus association narrative (our reality), adding depth and texture to the experience of experience itself. The idea that the sun is the center of the local spheres was once an obscene sync, now included in the common story about the reality we all share. The connection between the movement of the earth relative to the sun, causing seasons, are commonly accepted associations between thing-events (or syncs), while the connection between 9/11 and 2001: A Space Odyssey is a more occult (out of the ordinary) relationship.

On 9/11/2001, the World Trade Center collapsed right beside "The Millennium Hilton Hotel," a building designed to resemble the black Monolith from the film 2001: A Space Odyssey. The building was practically flush with the towers, being damaged by falling debris and was captured in many of the iconic images from 9/11. Both the real life event and the film associate to the year 2001, as well as sharing the presence of the Monolith. The film depicts key evolutionary phases in mankind's history overseen and influenced by the Monolith. 9/11 can also be viewed as a key evolutionary point in our history, and occurred in the presence of the same object as in the film 2001. Through sync association, the context of the film-evolution involving Jupiter-becomes applicable to the real-life it reflects. Realizing 911 is also the emergency call service number in America, the vivid synchronicities involved in 9/11 act as an emergency wake-up call into a higher state of consciousness, where we become aware of our inseparability from thing-events. I call this process the "9/11 Mega Ritual."

The boundaries between things and events are collectively and individually agreed upon conventions. We use them in order to make sense of our environment and navigate our everyday lives. The categories we impose on the world are what allow for definition and the creation of all symbols;4 these are necessary and helpful tools, but not the nature of the actual reality they point towards. The culture5 of a certain time and place decides the general agreed-upon lines of division we draw between things-events and how we interpret them. Even the divide between "myself" and "other" is a convention or phantom of this process: the label­ing of thing-events that creates our understanding of reality. It is conducive to health and well-being to notice these conventions as shadows or phantoms. That way, these playful apparitions will not be frightening or confuse our activities.

Thing-events are not only seamlessly interpenetrating, but are also boundless in their depth and have infinite complexity.

Sync is the experience of the relaxation and dissolution of the boundaries between ourselves and the thing-events of the world. The more we allow ourselves to notice sync, the less barriers there are and the more our depth of perception will grow, allowing us to penetrate deeper into the world -- a world which starts to feel inseparable from what we consider ourselves.

 

Sync is Sign

People of many indigenous cultures are known for seeing "signs" in their surroundings. Spirits6 of ancestors and plants communicate through signs in the natural environment with individuals, mystics and shamans sensitive to such matters. These signs help heal and guide the culture.

Sync is the modern equivalent, now recognized, as the false-distinction between the natural and human-created world exits. All thing-events (whether trees, cars or movies) arise from the great non-local mystery of existence. The entire interrelated process of creation shapes the forest as much as it does the city. Seeing signs in the urban landscape is sync.

I go on regular vision quests or "sync walks" through the concrete jungle with my Ayahuasquero friend,7 seeing syncs and signs in number plates, T-shirts, billboards and trash. Usually a sync walk will end at the movie theatre, the temple of the city where communion with nature reaches its peak amongst the "stars." Just like signs have helped align the healthy smaller cultures of earth with Creator's plan, sync attunes the modern person to the unfathomable will of the Self realizing itSelf.

 

How do we know we are understanding the messages from these syncs or signs?

Because the ultimate ever-present reality is total perfection,8 the greater the amount of joy one obtains from their interpretations of sync, the more accurate, successful and aligned the reading of its meaning is.

The universe is created in all places and times non-locally, right here and now, the home of consciousness. Thankfully (and mercifully) the intensity of this gnosis varies, allowing for the daily ebb and flow of life. We view this bizarre happening of creation sequentially, doing our best to make sense of it. Sync is the new level of understanding (a collective allowing) about the nature of the universe, now making its way into everyday consensus awareness. When noticing the non-local hand during a prerecorded movie, the mind-blowing elegance hinted at by the new "in-sync" perspective starts to become tangible.

I will often sit down in a theatre or at home and watch something, noticing how the situations, objects and words align with things I have been meditating on, realizing the movie echoes activities and conversations I've been engaged in recently, with uncanny perfection. On occasion, watching media during moments where the context has already allowed for particularly heightened states of awareness, the reactive mirroring between the screen and myself is immediate. As a teenager, glimpsing this reality with a head full of conspiracies and misperceptions about power and influence, I perceived syncs in movies as hints of a nefarious agenda. Now I realize this entrainment, between my personal experiences and films made independently from me, is the emergent awareness of myself as a non-local organism-environment.9 I bleed into everything I perceive, my boundary or what I consider as "myself" and the "world" is a flexible convenience, and my perception detaches from the individual focal point. That a prerecorded film is alive and interactive -- reacting to my specific context at a given moment -- shows that what creates both myself and the film, is ever-present, interrelated and, by implication, non-local. The intensity of holy communion with a film (as with life in general) varies appropriately with our degree of presence. I can enjoy watching TV with my mom, noticing a few light entrainments here and there. Or, I can do Ayahuasca with my friend Jim Sanders, the next day stepping out to the cinema; shaking in my seat with vivid, seemingly impossible boundary loss.

Entrainment hints at a property inherent in sync associations that draw them together. The concepts of sync and entrainment are so interrelated that the words are regularly interchanged.

Often a word will arise in the mind10 of the organism and, at the same moment, consciousness will notice this word somewhere in the environment-perhaps on a passing T-shirt or in a song playing in the background. Old models try to say: "either the T-shirt was seen first, prompting my mind to issue the same word" or "perhaps my mind thought the word, then, out of all the clutter in my surroundings, was primed to notice the chance occurrence of the same word." Indeed they are coincident (in the sense of happening at the same time) and this is entrainment between myself and environment. Both myself (which thinks the word) and the environment (which contains the T-shirt) share the same source that is primary to both.

These examples of entrainment, those happening at the same instance or perhaps very close to each other, will help us make the leap to the more unusual ultimate reality of sync.

As all is sync (or nothing is sync), regardless of the length of time between events; they are always entrainment as the non-local self is present in any instances, never mind the justification put forward by the inherently-limited mind. All the associations we make are portals opening between ourselves, across the barriers of timespace, organism-environment and thing-event.

The most recognized of such portals is love. When we meet a future lover, and our upcoming associations are to be moments of intense shared awareness, we might even recognize it from the first glance.

The sensation that things are specifically being orchestrated for (or even by) yourself, is a normal result of the emerging sync consciousness. Depending on the temperament and makeup of the specific belief system, the interpretation of sync can be nefarious or benign. If concepts of influence over what happens in spacetime are associated to pyramid-type hierarchies, the syncs can form a reality of peculiar control networks, manipulating the texture of the moment.11 To satisfy the ever-increasing depth of the experience, the limited self (ego) needs increasingly powerful and subtle top-down organizations able to manipulate the environment, sometimes extending "them" beyond the physical (into the spiritual, inter-dimensional and godlike spheres). If the external control concepts are replaced by the personal and internal, the individual experiencing sync can start thinking him or herself God. Many undergoing this particular process (awakening as a united organism-environment field via synchronicity) will have a hodge-podge of these symptoms.

The faulty idea that the universe is a hierarchy of power and influence, introduced at a young age, is responsible for these phantom menaces.

This is not to undermine the models of external higher power and internal personal divinity, but to help put them in the most helpful context we can imagine. The nature of reality clearly corresponds in some areas to the two seemingly opposing ideas. This vivifies the continued joke being played on us as we try and impose concepts and symbols over the (thankfully) indefinable transcendent nature of what ultimately Is. If we could fit the nature of our Selves and God into a conceptual map or box, it would imply that It is finite, and not bottomless eternal perfection.

Imagine a ladder extending infinitely up and down, that all pos­si­ble beings are climbing. The ladder represents our progress and success as entities in the universal enterprise. As this ladder extends eternally higher and lower, regardless how far apart Gods are from humans, or humans are from ants, we are all still in the center. Only relatively speaking are there higher and lower beings. All are in the center from which consciousness emanates.

From a profile view, power represents the top of the pyramid. When we continue up a dimension, and see the pyramid from the overhead perspective, we notice the tip is the center and balanced point. Real power comes from being in harmony with the totality and filled with a joy ultimately free from concept.

If the ultimate controlling and manipulating force were not inside of us right now (and in everything else) it would not be ever-present, and not the true eternal Master.

Investigating sync leads one, not only to relaxing the boundaries between things and events, but also to letting go of the rigid classifications of these thing-events. In order to notice that one thing-event (situation, object or symbol) has an affinity to another, often means being "loose" with our associations. In a sense, to see and understand sync we must become fools-free from the limitations, but not the benefits, of mind.

For example, a few years ago I was struggling with actress Robin Tunney climbing K2 (the mountain) in the film Vertical Limit and also passing signs reading "2K" (in reference to the year 2000 Millennium) in another film, End of Days. K2 is obviously 2K backwards, but my mind was resistant to accept this as a clear association, which it now plainly recognizes. The old model of perception was concerned with the simple relaxation of associating something backwards (letting the box that fits K2, now also accept 2K). This shows how we can be confronted with sync and miss it-owing to how we discriminate between what associates and what we think is not associated.

Sync is realizing all associations are agreed upon conventions, and we are free to re-appropriate the process. The symbol representative of the planet Jupiter12 clearly looks like an amalgamation of 2 and 4. In synchromysticism13 it has come to symbolize "42." 42 is "The Answer to Life, the Universe, and Ev­erything" in the popular book series and major motion picture The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. 42 is also the angle at which light refracts, becoming the colors of the rainbow.

Now when I see the number 42, concepts like "Jupiter" and "rainbow" are evoked, perfectly reasonable given the above context. In the same fashion, any symbols or words or concepts are up for re-association, unlocking their infinite potential. We saw Jupiter associating to the sync-starting "9/11 Mega Ritual" and here it is freeing our symbols. Jupiter is the source of words like "jovial" and "joy"-and we know that the ultimate reality is perfect Joy. The evolutionary jump we are undergoing, assisted by sync, is overseen by Jupiter.

 

Sync is time travel

The one unambiguous ever-present factor in any and all synchronicity is the witness or consciousness.14 Consciousness itself is the ultimate sync, present in all sync. All syncs point towards consciousness and arise from it. Like water is to the fish, consciousness is so central and ubiquitous to sync (and all else) that we tend to miss it.

Consciousness is present whenever you see a 42 or any other sync. The next time you witness a 42, there will be a non-local bridge between the past and present self. This is part of the exciting charge of seeing syncs. The past, present and future selves, all created now, witnessing resonant events and becoming aware of each other beyond time. It is also why significant events (like 9/11) are encoded heavily in the sync architecture of the present. Syncs are signs of our potently aware non-local selves bearing witness to thing-events.

Often syncs are interpreted-including 2012 phenomena-as pointing towards an imminent massive collective spiritual exper­ience. This event -- collective consciousness realization -- does, by its very nature, singularly stand out in the fabric of all we per­ceive. The great perceiver, perceiving itself through us on the largest planetary scale in known history. 

Individuals are becoming aware of themselves across spacetime. At the same moment, many different individuals, who are noticing the same syncs, start perceiving their shared transpersonal essence. Real-time synchronicity sharing (what all communication/association essentially boils down to) across the internet and on networks like Twitter, are the result of this emergent process (of the collective awaking into a unified greater Self), as well as facilitating in its increased realization.

The ultimate sync is consciousness in this moment, and we have it already. This does not remove from the delight of processes and play in the world around us. Knowing you are the Self makes you the best player you can possibly be.

 

Movie stars are "as below" resonators of the skies above

Even though our current general associations are agreed upon conventions (and we are free to make new ones), they still arise from the ultimate mind that orchestrates all thing-events and are not arbitrary. The map is not the territory, but is part of the territory, and both share the same fountainhead.

A wonderful example is how we use the word "star" for celebrities. Our oldest myths and stories are associated to the heavenly spheres. They have been personified, deified and their movements become elaborate dramas. Kings, Queens and other big players in our cultures have been connected to these bodies and vice versa. The stories about the stars and humankind are inseparably intertwined and are reflections of each other. Our cinema is a recent incarnation of this dynamic, the obvious giveaway being the word "star."

The mystery and beauty of the stars (that would pull man deep­er into the void), had to be increasingly turned away from at the onset of "mind." Playing right into Creator's hands, as he/she had put them into the silver screen to keep telling us stories, and continue our process of becoming stars ourselves.

Astrology studies the relationships between us and the heavenly spheres. Synchromysticism realizes the same dynamic exists between our world and celebrity stars. Meditating on the film strip ladder -- passing at 24 frames a second -- we climb the stairway to heaven.

Film and pop culture offer a rich and immediate portal into the collective awakening psyche when treated as creative flux emanating from the heart of all Being. The artist is acknowledged as shaping his/her medium, yet channeling the energy to create, directly from the greater Self. The ever-changing patterns and themes surrounding us (via our omnidirectionally mediated and increasingly mercurial environments) are taken as the externalized collective Body. We can investigate this dynamic entity-disguised as the forms and context of the environment (that we ourselves comprise) -- by treating all that arises in our awareness as sacred and ready to be re-contextualized -- with joy as our guide and the sky as the limit.

The mainstream culture, no longer a toxic river, is the major artery from which all other strange subcultures branch and receive nourishment.

The original collective context of our media and forms are not lost, but celebrated and elaborated upon. The world remains cohesive and integrated (and its individuals sane), yet open-ended for infinite exploration, as depth and meaning penetrate everything continually.

The pool of pop and meaning we collectively swim in anchors our experience and supplies a shared framework from which we can launch our experimental, far out and freaky, sync depth charges. Which of these will explode . . . ? New connections that are caught up and pulled in by the gravity of others' interests, only to eventually go "pop" themselves and enrich the sync whole.

 

Notes:

(1) Using "thing-events" helps highlight how things and events are not ultimately separable or essentially different. I could say, "the tree I am looking at right now is . . ." a thing, or an event, if I realize all the infinite processes that are involved in there being a tree. "Tree" as a "thing" is a convenient label for all the processes that comprise the limitless mysterious reality of the object I am seeing. Syncs are values of mundane versus profound we place upon one thing-event associated to another.

(2) Chance is a label for the occurrences between the initiation and outcome of thing-events far too subtle for current perspective to understand. Chance happenings (coincidences) versus meaningful synchronicity, are different models mapping the same phenomena beyond the scope of both. All models are inherently beyond the reach of our labels of the unlimited thing-events. If a map had all the detail of the area it represented it would be identical to it, and useless as a representation.

(3) Reality isn't ultimately connected or not connected (one or many), it is something beyond understandable categories. The ultimate nature of sync goes to the indefinable core of all that exists, and our words about it will always only be relatively true. The words can guide towards transcendental understanding of sync, as they (and the reader) arise from the same source.

(4) To "symbolize" is to give a finite shape and definition to a thing-event (ultimately indefinable) for the purpose of creating associations, which in turn create our perception of the world. The letters and words you are now reading are part of just such a system, symbols creating associations and giving rise to this story of sync.

Symbols are in flux, new interpretations are constantly being associated to them, and new symbols are being added to our collection; the story of reality.

A collection of symbols, like "letters," can make up another symbol, such as a "word." Our entire perception of reality is a big symbol for the indefinable mystery it represents.

(5) CULTure is the reigning collection of sync associations that make up the current reality of entities (ranging in size from the entire planet down to a single individual). Large cultures are the familiar ones, like countries or regions. Smaller groups, like synchromystics, share many associations with symbols only agreed upon by the group itself. Cults of only one person exist and they are often labeled eccentrics or mad men/women. Smaller cults are the breeding grounds for associations that could go viral and become accepted by the bigger groups of association networks (a.k.a. realities). The more joy and harmony emanating from your cult-whether a large or small group-the more it resonates with the ultimate purpose of the totality.

(6) The essences of things are infinite and boundless. When we draw a perimeter around a thing, by the necessity of conceptual­ization, we place a border we can recognize around part of it. The parts not contained, yet still perceived by those sensitive to such matters, are often called spirit. Other spirits are things so subtle that no model has yet been created to contain it. The spirit world is the realm of thing-events beyond the event horizon of human conceptualization. There is a continual process of evolution where the human nervous system grows to acknowledge new facets of this realm and include it in the consensus. What was once spirit­ual is now science. What is now sync will soon be regular association.

(7) In the forests of South America, certain Shamans have cultivated a profound relationship of feedback between themselves and the environment. They have a partnership with a conscious plant brew, Ayahuasca. The feedback between the individual and the environment (through the plant) is a singularly powerful portal for what-creates-both to come into this world. The practice has spread to new cultures all over the earth as the living bio­sphere self-organizes for the next dramatic evolutionary leap. In my home of Winnipeg, I have been fortunate enough (clearly sync entrainment) to stumble upon just such a movement, headed by Shaman and man of sync, Jim Sanders.

(8) The more sensitive and free from imperfection the film stock, the more clarity and depth we can capture in the picture. Consid­ering the infinite nature up and down every point of the macro- and microcosmic spacetime manifold, we realize the most ultimate and perfect substrate allows for it. That we can never grasp It is even clearer proof of Its existence, for to be graspable, It must be containable, thus finite. This perfection and the joy that is every moment is beyond the understanding of the limited mind, from which it itself is born. Often the mind is perplexed at how the events of our lives and societies reflect this ultimate of       realities.

The total eternal and ever-present perfection, regardless of context, is self-evident to the ultimate Self.

(9) Using "organism-environment" helps highlight how the perceiving entity and what is being experienced are interrelated and ultimately united (or not divided). Both the organism and its environment are thing-events that arise in primary consciousness. When I notice myself (organism) and what I am seeing (environment), the real I is the witness of both.

In any spacetime dynamic there is an organism-environment-thing-event.

(10) The mind is a localized collection of symbols, forming a map or model through which the ultimate consciousness perceives the world. As a collection of limitations, the mind and all it generates (including the persona) are never to be taken primarily for the realities it perceives. Again, the mind is not the territory, but it is part of the territory, and both share the same fountainhead.

(11) My reality tunnel at this stage resembled The Truman Show, The Matrix, The Illuminatus Trilogy! and 1984, all put in a blender. 

(12) The Jupiter symbol as 42, and its association to rainbows, was explained to me by Jim Sanders.

(13) Synchromysticism is a name I started using to describe thoughts about synchronicity in 2006. "The art of realizing mean­ingful coincidence in the seemingly mundane with mystical or esoteric significance." I used this summary on an old blog site to try and encapsulate synchromysticism. I still see it used on new websites today. Nothing is essentially wrong with it. Perhaps too slippery on the brain and open for misinterpretations. This is likely also its strength as a catchphrase. I hope this current document clarifies, or at least confuses in the right direction, the continuing process of creating a better understanding of the phenomena of synchronicity.

On the Internet, an ever-changing community of people have come and gone associating themselves, willing or otherwise, with the word.

(14) Consciousness is the mysterious property, always out of reach, that knows. Consciousness can refer to this essence in individuals or groups, depending on the context it is being used in. There is an ultimate consciousness underlying everything, directly connected and primary to all other levels of consciousness.

The unknowable I that knows it knows.

 

The Sync Book is available here


 

Teaser image by ralphbijker, courtesy of Creative Commons license.

Comments

surf is up syncro

"and god i know, i am one" i saw my past lives all goin by, like they ridin on a roll of them gypsy eyes seein all the shapes on the sky them chariots of the gods Rig Vedas unfolding in tears of soma rain oh shape crashed on some Gobi plain, so many Yugas so many rolls of the cosmic toss, pod boat from that other dimension made in a womb of the first time, amnesia heavenly, ruins of a self complete living in some mountain cave for fifty turns of the great wheel, living with the native magic people turning around the diamond verse written on butterfly wings, held the threads of eternity within a small computer ball that survived the plunge from the galactic tare of language living at the beginning remaking the ages in a revolving eternal return of the name, the one, the sound of om, the honey and the bee drinking the essence of the tahagattha flower in a bone cup, slowly the memory of the descent returns after the flash the dance of firefly the breath of buffalo crystalize in radiant stillness prayers of drums down in the earth the shadow ripples on the sea of grass holding moonlight we cross ancient totemic bridges made of memories twined tight with the elements of all things that breathe and feel the winter sun at the moment of its darkest solar awakening, after crowfoot the breath of feathers on the wind the voices of the ancestors wooshing in the young trees that stand along the running bear river and make a medicine of father spirit's songs where the birds remember to communicate alleys throwing colored dice through fog letters written rain washed in blood moons sevens singing backwards within leaves golden antlers turning around in midnight boxes of razor suns oceans bleeding rainbows move in and out hotel words selling O to sentences that live in cages of reflection-less mirror deaths very smoke gray background never speaking silences that wonder tears down streets that crawl through sex with black voices that swim in red lips very old words are practicing zen death with candy wrapper walls covered in no's all neatly stacked like prayers in a void the real reasons for everything are sleeping in a corner all curled up like ghosts with Chinese newspapers for covers in the dark we are about to explode forgotten Nile idols in baths of jelly reflections whose green door breaths religious basements of frozen beliefs wander doomed eternities of lava flows laudanum electric haze totalities drifting through sky tombs ...and if i knew what to do i would have done it Ancients ago im writing a voice that should be my alley or call it my ally what ever it is; i go down its little passage, like a sacred space that exists on some level connected to this here poet's mind, a journey between to opposite walls on some city street or perhaps in some magical village lined in dragon like fogs, dare i seek refuge here? for i needs must invoke its foci to transit to whisper forbidden shapes of sound as if they had elf ears themselves like wayfarers in half materialized dream-trance spells hap hazard but for the grining poem itself which has a mind of its own, which i nevertheless call upon from linked lifetimes of concurrent indever each color exists outside of black yet within it so to the words have infinite nuance possibility this is a labor of love as huge as the Paris Night one simply must risk everything in imagination poetry cannot hide in accepted forms and servive at this crossroads, the most beautiful ghosts are waiting for your sign, waiting in junk DNA taverns waiting with secret hand mudras to draw you back to the days and nights of future meetings with suns and suns dressed as beggars or sky trees dressed as angelic keepers of the wyrd across seas of silver shadows walking the nugual if i had any idea where i was going with this cup of cheap visions; and yet it has been brought to my view, that certain rivers of souls are my source i venture out from my death sleeps of revery now and then with renewed spirit guide horizon cards fliped out of sorceror hats like flat scorpion leaves the jazzy void appears like a street walker with eyes pined to the ceiling; (cage of golden bars) she is my loco eyes, she weeps pearls of light that drop with such force into my wild vortex of mirrors; they torn into tigers and sprout newspaper wings, i am at my moon cup dreaming a rainbow storm by the side of the gypsy road stand, she leaves my side for a moment; and i thunder pants my sunken visions by the gypsy ocean museum i know i am on a hoodoo roll when the colossus flips over and a thousand pink stones of clouds are speaking a tall twister of opal omens glittering in her eyes again, and i am still huddled over the grave cup of crow paths sleeping in grass from whence doth the secret wisdom of the ages arise!!!...if not from musty pages of thick rare paper back books on lonely shelves in hip little used book stores....if not in the very alley i got my trinket of change passed to me by a blue-eyed star child if not in hieroglyphic neon washes in time's wastes; flashing logos enigmatic objects spin on desert shores of loop de loop cosmic rides fun house mansions in the looming distance crunching toy numbers into infinity for the hell of it; for the laughing black-hole starfire floods of it; if not for things that go clunk in the darkness it calls you from beds of purple sunsets on toe nails it calls from across abysses of dead doors standing on desperate landscapes when the current opens its ruby fanged curtains and tower chests rise out of the delirious emptiness with dripping rags hanging off the obsidian window where openings linger like clown mouths down painted reflections into cave entrance, floating balls of green jags, old symbol rain, dots of universes, hither and tither... drift....in evolve...................out............there as this automatic flower generates its cascade info of; it was not here before it is here now and there it was always here then it magnifies in its square root image at a depth of infinite we then then begin the trans- memory sequence counting back through aeonic resonance; at node black forest interior depths of dark non-panther spirit essence distilled throughout midnight petals hyper-fold all knowing on mountain paws pollen rising up through the chaos rich pattern signal; info-flow mayan temple skull light jing energy pure archive induced sorcery-nth dimension: opening mirror convex (hex) circular shadow flood upward sap of transparencies spoken code underground green house arcade little deamon smokes walking death's footsteps what octahedron oceans materialize here beside obsolete mind factors on just what that word does just what are we doing here along old indian paths into roads of wrinkles on the brow of star charts nod If we discovered all quantum bets are off that like Terence infered it is even stranger then we even suppose? i take this as my lead in, the nothing is as it seams that life is stranger then dreams... that no matter how profound we arrive at our little point of departure the arrival juncture is infinite more revealing in its absolute simple gist we are so astounded by complexity we imagine that we have discovered some buried treasure of the human imagination we are like children on christmass morning opening chests of the king's ransom or perhaps some ultimate Templar mystery uncovered on some forlorn island surrounded by enchanted water and deadly spells if i were to uncover my deepest vision buried under a man made mountain strong hold of ten thousand life times of lost dreams if i were to hear the secret chiefs chanting the forbidden mantras of highlands dragon flags descending through the pivotal hierarchical nodes it would not compare to the sweet stillness of time that drifts in and out of my meditation to the golden whispered voice of the beloved muse as she awakens from the timeless trance of veils Ima gonna rip dis mutha zag when i say jazz i mean jazz like it is i mean cruel sweet sax cryin on da cona screamin its midnight heart out i mean dat i mean it like i mean rainin mirror holes from this galactic ceiling revolving slow an easy, as the freakin world turns i mean it as the throat burns for another slug of truth as it speaks its fountain of sliced through silences spoken through the blue plate special mainline given wings in the clapping vestments down the long vein of mica thin images that wait in the mine galloping dimensions manifold in the prolonged contact with other by invoking cobweb hubcap shadow flash highways shooting red music down a golden tube of licorice enlighten-mint what i mean is, static is bleedin its fuzz down yer gullet of albatrosses down your holy gushing thigh river belly clunk ramblin over nuggets of nasty inner carnival churns yer guts all bubbly with torn crossroads of freaks who waited at the well with a bucket of lucky pennies have a drink, it will give you good great tiger paws be ready for the waltz of ventriloquist westerns the red-eye blink silver dollar fuck on the vacant sky that's where you will find her hair all water-fallin to the flow to the grandfather spirit peakin its mountain of feathers above the pine tops In the abstract mosque tear shining desert monk stars golden swirling skies scarfs the broken evil toys that dance fire ancient tongues have been silent but speak in perpetual music boxes surrounded with green window earth signs mountains transparent total perspective glyphs in paradise alleys going around burnt orange sunrise isis in crisis at the equinox moment all the lotus signs point up and down in and out perfect apex of dna leaf mirror turning inside out the progression of the sphinx core maps of mist avenues straight through the axis down the nights vortex looking like sunken pyramids in black the land of Al Khem E swirling kaos of cool midnight rounds the entire constellation hallucination the doorman and the master reunion of the star map makers hexagram solar lunar first and last ...cast past the pillar end object node i saw cigarettes standing on the moon like monoliths of dragon bone pointing their red eye tips to some sector of the galactic federation i have been searched with beams from other time nexus locals i have been fingered by harlequin angels i have talked to voices with streets for hair i have been influenced by dead poets and poets that were still alive some petered out; some lost the muse on reefs of hostile personalities disquised as wrathfull deities i have always practiced a version of objective chance; meetings on mysterious corners like a vast canvas i am working on in a cave i splash words on the surface like liquid jazz i have no special direction other then to rent to draw back the frail wall hangings of life and to find holes in the quantum scribles that were not there a moment before i am looking for tiny breaks in the contiuum i am looking for clues in the obvious as it has come to my notice that nothing is true in of itself only, the pieces are blind and the games are rigged only that irate custodians are doing the dirty work in basements of classified info-nightmares only that the Mayans were sorcerers of time and Terence Mckenna stumbled into their party and saw the obvious hidden in the rain forests saw the cycle within the DNA temples of laughter unfold its sacrament of toy equations in half numbers half words half flesh of the ur sprach... the wombs voice opens out into the world its secret transfiguration of face; its branches reaching into the infinite its hair; speaking through dead things tells us where we have come from who we are where we going; like dry rustling twigs of light in the quivering shadows its genius idea of what we are about all the flickering against a wet wall passing in the eternal darkness the immortal like fire tells us things that are alien to our nature yet somehow that other; word/ voice/ event thing that a moment before was so cold and distant, now begins its wordless 'beheld' event; yet not so un 'letter shaped' like rivers clad in sky blinking in the nothingness and everything meet silver mists awakened::::::::::U the novel awareness is born, a rolling Persian carpet of 'alive' language the smolder essence signals its presence in a thousand geometric objects in one all set off from the dirt of beginnings all there, and also not there shapes coming out of Ur copper color fountains of weave rippling outward the very 'stuff' of the ancients stone milking itself through solar and lunar vents the 'Duat' of stellar passages itself becomes serpentine writing of glass entrance:::::::::::: ///////////////////00)()))(()()0(*)(11)))U(((((((((O)0000///////// //////primitive grail prism of shimmering ephemera This nothing cycle carnival at the end one this sideshow shadows of creation and hollywood alters, in its last act oh to study the deep symbology of the Tempest, Moby Dick, the Ancient Mariner oh this circus world's sea mirror shattering like mad, the deadly melodies of the sea breeze, the blaze of the white foamy light, choppy choppy white caps hold this mirror to the cosmos, hold to us we are at the long count of the childhood of humankind, we are churning in the dark sea of time, surfing the total tube curl the lost cosmology shooting ten on the ultimate horizon, the haunted numbers that breathe the eons, the mists of earth's birth reflected in stone, the dazzling amusement empire is on the fade, the dusk is sparkling on the world's mantle, its mystery, its snaking language maze,to circle a thousand ages now, fallen man is the headlines of smoking guns the end game played on all sides playing the end game, far corners, space-time, whence this threadbare sky unravels, strange signs carved in the universe rock zero carnival, tempest, sweeping down like monsoon rain middle riddle folds gather infinities waves galactic shaman words fade back into the center calendar mandala there always is the thousand things and the thousand words to name them were it be that we had a many thousand years to understand their meaning, these signs of the grave matters that surely are upon us as we speak their mystery even as the oracle is spoken from unknown origins so too does its voice rise from the womb of the cave yet though these utterances be as the golden sunlight upon the green blue waters; so too is it the sparkle of moonlight upon the black waters yet in modern times the voice of the oracle has been banished to the unconscious realm within the poets of chaos even then few are called to the task and fewer still stay the descent past the parchments of ghost leaves whose tongues were torn at the birth root of language itself this mystery is most dire indeed for its labyrinth is surrounded with the most perilous aspect imaginable the first and the last are contained in its amber mirror of resinous suns many are they whom will mock wicked yet only those whom have been marked with the wicked smudge will follow her shape through the assassinated alleyway down past the laughing whores of the divine ass words...she is the white glyph herself; her beauty is as of black diamonds shinier then the midnight at the core of Hades her glance is always in the distance for her eyes are brighter even then the heaven's lo the number thirteen is spinning in hell cycles heaven cycles have flown chronological terribly old bygone, future through the myriad pathways the crystal skull glows the transdimensional remembering alien glyphs turn around orifaces black holes of tabu lamps history folding in on itself between heaven and hell a dark forbidden tube, we go down... on chaos awakening the holy sleeping alive jewel; opens it's time images over us... after the object is identified we become ourselves through the nothing take ghost medicine your dream exists; unspeakable yet; we dissolve into other the phemonomal snake like object down along zero time baktuns there the beginning revolves at the end we have entered this last maze once and for all the earth is bivouacked baby we livin in a vacuum every day the lies role in like a Frisco fog in china town like a dragon with tv eyes we is livin in a perpetual black op brought to you by the illuminate boys from think tanks on the end of a cigarette the earth is bivouacked, and Saturn looks lovely in its choo choo chrome rings all like some drive in burger joint with a space-age halo, and everyday the lies pile up like a mountain of garbage in some third-world country where they go to find reality and give it a proper funeral the earth is bivouacked, and the revolution of the sun, is cloaked in iron vestments Buddha is throwin a party and Frank is invited, yesterday they dug a hole and tossed democracy in to go find China they thought it was a coverup, a whitewash a spray paint job over the face of the common man, we is deep in the end times shit and jesus is selling big in the movie house religion is getting a face lift, and rock an roll is dead, and the hip hop has sold its soul for a gig on the moon, and soon mars will open its Disneyland factory and we all get a pill with a corporate condoned high, its over baybay, the nano goo is in ya brain and the hacky sack rain is ginna fall hard its the revolution of the sun its the revolution of the sun and the surf is up at the parlors of dawn

Jose Arguelles' Manefesto for the Noosphere

I've been dipping into Jose Arguelles' book 'Manifesto for the Noosphere', I like how sycnchronicity ties into his 'law of time' which seems to be a mode of more synchronised awareness, tied into awareness of planetary and galactic cycles.

Some quotes I liked from the book -

'Reaching the limits of the Earth means we have also reached the limits of materialism, the limits of growth. Now we must go to the next stage beyond materialism: psychic convergence , the interiorization of the evolutionary process where matter passes again into mind and nature is replaced by supernature. Whatever new tools we manifest may have to do with furthering actual processes of cosmic co-creation, where a type of crystal, for instance, may be used either as a pychically triggered laser beam or a holophonic telesensory projector'!

'For just as organic matter, life, evolved out of inorganic matter, so now post-organic mind begins it's evolution from organic matter - the process of superhominization'

Just a reminder about our comments guidelines

Hi Drew (and everyone else on this thread),

This is a friendly reminder to keep it kind here in the comment boxes and to also try to keep your comments concise. If you'd like to write a longer, blog post length response than that's what you should do, write a blog post and link to it here.

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Seems quite mean spirited in

Seems quite mean spirited in my opinion to nit pick over long comments,

I am sorry

I dunno why I flared up over something so trivial, funny how easy it is to project things about oneself onto others, good and bad. I'm definetely in need of a break from this computer. Thanks, ada.

I'd say it's easier to love

I'd say it's easier to love the whole world, unconditionally, or feel loved by it unconditionally, if it's percieved as one whole thing, rather than seen as seperate objects that one has a varying preference for.

The Sense of Censorship

To keep things concise and yet to have the freedom to link ones more longer drawn out conclusions for others to access seems only fair ... no direct threat was made ... just friendly suggestions ... everyone wins ... no one barrred ... God only knows of the multivarious view points available on any given topic.

"Wonder is what Mystery would do if it was conscious" ...

"Wandering is for every other possibility"

Pippalayana Muni