Therapist appointment earlier today. It's part of my title IX deferment, but I think therapy would be a smart thing for me anyways, y'know. We went over my insane explosive rage recently, mainly catalyzed by my drinking, but y'know, like Chernobyl was ultimately caused by the graphite tips of the uranium rods (amongst a long series of things going wrong) - because graphite accelerates nuclear reactions - there wouldn't be a big boom if there wasn't the uranium there.

…y'know, I hear some of the shit my therapist said in response to what I said made me a bit aware of how people ain't not doing a damn to piece together nonfamiliar verbiage. Y'know, the thing I have to do with all of you all the time because the average person is highly privileged to, as a joke I'll say, you all exist within the central finite curve of culture. You can relate to the people around you, right?

My therapist asked me what things I think about often, first bringing up my mom, and it's like no, you just blind-sided me with thinking about it, so I lost energy in my composure and deflated, which is why I don't think about her directly often. But I think of my dad a lot. Maybe that's why I'm angry so often. But y'know, really, I was kinda censoring myself, cuz what do I say?

“Oh, late at night, in a completely non-sexual way, genuinely because I have already masturbated at this point, but when my mania mind is going crazy, I think about, y'know, the mass wide-scaled terrorism I could enact and what is the best (re: worst) way to torture a child that would leave them most scarred for a very long life, as two small, insignificant examples of things that calm me down in a meditative way.”

Cuz, like, fuck. Back to what I was saying about the graphite and the uranium. Like, ain't none of these fucking problems I have would exist if it wasn't for my father's gross ineptitude. But, it is the child's mind that blames others for present circumstances. I take responsibility for my present circumstances despite the objective causality of what made me this way because this gives me the greatest power to make changes in my life to get to where I want to be.

We went over this concept where I ended up replying with how mindfulness is the most important part of this process because that is what allows you to notice those moments where change can happen; that each moment is a juncture that defines what future junctures we can take. The idea is to notice those times you cross the passage in the labyrinth or come across those moves in a Rubik's Cube that take you to those future moves that solve everything for you.

And as I left, he did a fun thought-reversal technique, where I had said I was happy I abstained from drinking, where on the way out, he flipped it to say “weren't you happy that you had a beer waiting for you, or what was that?” Y'know, he got my executive mind to go over what I said made me happy. But that wasn't actually what made me happy. I do that all the time, abstaining from substances. What happened on the way in, I biked past a man who wasn't flying a sign, was sitting out of the way, in my peripheral, but was very disheveled. God has been presenting these moments where I definitely do see a homeless person in my unconscious mind, but it's always a moment too late for me to make the decision to stop and hand them some money or food. It's 💯% God conditioning me to keep my lanterns trimmed; to be mindful and ready to spring at that split-second moment to be a good Samaritan.

As I blessed the man and took back off, I passed a man outside a restaurant on the phone. As I passed, he said, “Don't worry, forget about it. It's all good.” At the moment I heard it, I thought it was about the rage episode I had, and that helped me talk about it, y'know? But there's a message across time, too. On my way back, I passed an absurd number of lottery tickets on the ground, like two hundred. This was a reminder of a moment years ago when I got mugged in Miami while following the whispers of God. This was critical for my development and because of it, I had no problem eating out of garbage cans with my now life partner and I first met while homeless together. If I wasn't mugged, I would not have been in the place of my development to be ready to meet this man I love so dearly.

There are times God scolds me for drinking through synchronicity. But then there are times God tells me to drink, and has made it clear by unlocking my bike lock in the most peculiar way one time, magickally, to convey the message that He is disentangling myself from my “self.” For some reason, I'm reminded of my first conversation with Vince. We get pushed together when God says it's time.

Alright, I need to write something. It's 7:30am, a day after the episode where I lost my mind temporarily and did an insane anger, a big one where I used a kitchen knife to carve out letters from my totally real and definitely does exist life partner because I assaulted him (...for some reason I was reminded of my first fight with Tyler...) and was arrested for this crime I apparently committed...where tf was I going with that...? Oh yea (sry have to fake stoopid), but I used a knife that could kill a man to rip up keys of this DVORAK keyboard I purchased with my own money on my singular debit card in my birth name that I alone used because my absolutely corporeal and living, breathing, existing life partner who definitely interned with the CIA whom I met in the strangest, most perfect circumstances when I was homeless to thus then acquire >$100k in tax-free finances to thus live indoors for these two-going-on-three years, that real human being has taken vows never to handle any money ever again.

...was that word salad to you people? Must be too complex of an idea. But no seriously, I've just about had it with this life. I had an awful realization, that if I kill my life partner, then I can die in peace, cuz then I don't got to worry about this lovable idiot going through decades of Hell without me. And I, the me I think I am, has literally negative intent to make that ish a reality. I want a good story, dammit! But y'know, I'm looking at the door I ripped off the hinges and punched straight fucking through to scrape a part of my arm around the elbow when taking it out of the door, and I say to myself, "Shiiii....I'm not in control of this fucking choice garbagoo..."

And y'know, free will is a skill, as my one handler in the CIA (Jux) hammered into my head early on, and it really comes down do "Did I drink and do offbrand, over-priced CVS Benadryl?" Cuz if I don't do that, this shit never happens. But if I don't wank it to the thought of utterly reprehensible and unfathomably depraved sexual fantasies with the legal porn on Reddit that doesn't need an ID for some reason here in Joe Arpagio's state he owns, how am I going to prevent myself from asking the cute 40-yo crackwhore flying a sign if I can nut in her behind the Dairy Queen?

...there was actually this very pleasant woman missing her front teeth who had what I might dare to call the beginning stages of that arousing-type of wrinkly boobs in a completely braless tank top that I went out of my way to give the five dollars I had that absolutely would love to rawdog and have been thinking about, but y'know, isn't it great my actually real life partner is still a virgin? But y'know, this rabid frustration I feel from my life partner who has, for literally the majority of our time living indoors together, actively and consciously tried to trigger me by doing things my father would do out of complete compassion to help cure me of my anger...

...because, y'know, when your father is the type of guy to jump on an eighteen year old two months after his whore AIDS wife died (my mom, whom he informed me I would die just like her for being irresponsible after he destroyed everything my mother ever made me (I forgot to take the garbage out; age eleven)), or get a fridge magnet that said "No ifs, ands, or..." and the joke being it's a buncha sexy women in thongs and you tell your son that's the meaning of life, or use your dead wife's life insurance money in conjunction with your son's social security money to buy a Jaguar to one-up your own mother who followed you to buy a Cadillac you already had, well, y'know, when you have a father like mine, it's only natural to have your entire life ruined by the emotional dysregulation caused by the hell realms you suffered in childhood.

But y'know, I just wish my dad cared about me. I mean, he cared a lot when I ran track and I was not allowed to be slow to the point where I was doing three practices a day and incurred some bulimia symptoms in my insane desire for bodily perfection. But now that I only do art and education and he doesn't get to be the cool dad anymore, he's thrown me away.

...like my literally real life partner has done with his mother, and it pisses me the fuck off that the most caring man I know is this heartless to his family. And yea, I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHY he has cast his mom out of his life; she is literally identical to my grandma in terms of narcissistic domineering. She told me on the way to court for assaulting her genetic and memetic product she shit out her pussy that the clothes I was wearing were the type she does gardening in. It didn't phase me because I'm an autistic tard and didn't realize she was insulting me until days later, but I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND WHY my father cut contact with his parents to thus subsequently make me lose all five of my grandparents in the shitstorm of losing my mother over and over and over again (he told me once women are like kleenex; age 12ish), but y'know, you can cut me some slack if I rage a bit, y'know? This is why I drink, and likewise sympathize with Jesus. I understand the mother fucker, and if you don't understand what I just said, do you even know what the North Star is?

This morning, I got to do a couple good deeds; I gave money to two people flying signs while on my way to pick up breakfast. The first was an older, white man in a nice coat. I had a ten and four singles, so I opted to give him the four dollars. I think, at least in my poverty, that aiming for five dollars in a tip at the weed store to handing it out to someone panhandling is the appropriate middle way; it's not a pittance to me, so I get real good value back by being generous where I am in life. That isn't why I do this, it's just an axiom that helps loosen purse strings in tight times for those in need because I am cursed to be bound to this algorithmic biobrain.

But, y'know, I ride down the road, past the high school with their absolutely hideous, disgusting, awful minors in booty pants, to veer into the parking lot where the store is, to find a young black woman with a number of bags that you know she's been carrying a minute also flying a sign. I don't even know what either of these signs said, I just know where you gotta be in life to let go of your dignity to hold a piece of cardboard. But, I stop my bike, pull out the ten without even thinking, my bike falls over, doesn't matter, hand her the bill, she thanks me but then she really thanks me when she sees its a ten, and you thank them, you bless them for God's too busy, and you head on your way.

Now, as I peddled off, I had the thought that it was better she got the larger amount. Then, immediately, I thought to myself, "is that racist?" And a quick thought soon after let me know it's prolly a good sign I care enough to automatically think about this, but y'know, because of my father, who held me to insane standards of perfection while bragging about how his stealth commando mission to sneak out at midnight to shoot out all three tiers of the "transplant" (his words) Bosnian neighbors' kiddie pool with his pellet gun because their kid was too loud the afternoon before...yea, yea, it IS shit like that which makes me care more than the average person.

Thus, y'know, I tell ya, I'm blessed to have had a narcissistic psychopath for a father, cuz I share his genes and was spoiled by his mother, so thank God I had an exemplary example for what not to be, to thus have the desire not to be like him embroidered within me every time my head was slammed into a dense, physical object.

Y'know, I cared about those two strangers today. I don't know who tf they are. I don't just believe or think I strengthen myself by choosing to be selfless; I KNOW I am. Early on in this CIA rigamarole, when everything I knew as "Illuminati" was self-contained on r/ShrugLifeSyndicate, where I was trained thirteen years ago, my one handler, Vince, the author of The Flesh Interface series, shared a link that showed why you don't give for their sake, but rather, you give for yourself. I was still as my father then, and a person on the street asking for money was a bum trying to trick me out of my money. That's still the world my father lives in. Worse. He thinks this of his son.

Well, at least I'm not that. But what is perfection of goodness? Is accepting being imperfect good enough?

Ah damn. The captain just died. For real this time; this ain't no hail Mary thrown between the third and fourth season to force the writers to continue the show as is, no, Patrick Stewart fucking died. The nerve of that asshole! The gall of becoming my favorite hero in space after first seeing Star Trek shortly after my mom passed away. I mean, the dude, being bald and skinny, was my theoretical father - the one who gave good advice as opposed to the very real father I had that was bald and skinny who throttled my ass when my six year old self would spell a word like "species" as "shpeeshes," given how much of a selfish piece of shit I inherently was, given how I would be thrown full speed into my bookshelf if I failed something like coloring within the lines, like happened when I was four but was gaslit about eternally only after my mom died. Only after my mom died did that fantasy I made up entirely become something I spoke about, the asshole I am.

...oh sorry. I was just thinking about my last post where I explained the core of what makes me divergent, in the absract. The gall of me putting that into concrete, objective terms of things that happened to me. But, fuck. What would Captain Picard do? Well, we can tell by the start of season four that he would love his family, even if he didn't get to directly see the whole of them. It was the specific moments that count.

...do you know what an "oust" is? This is something the Illuminati taught me how to use. This is a facetious use of speech to determine the intent of another person. Y'know, I presented myself to my father as someone desperate for money some times. As a result, my objectively superior father decided...I was less than human and thus deserved to never be spoken with again...

But he used the words "I love you." He would write these three, singular, empty words after a paragraph of telling me how useless I was before regaling me with a poem he created that he presented as proof that anyone can write the things I do. This poem was four short lines about my childhood that ended with the rhyme "trash can." It hurt. It still hurts and is a reason I drink. My father thinks I'm less than dirt.

As such, I do ask my lord why I am

The peculiar soul thats so damned

Did my mom dying about age nine

Determine how far from the divine

I did fall from, or did my dad' roots

Kick me farther in his fckn cahoots

With his childish emotions gained

From his mother to drive he insane

Because he tells me my mom crazy

But forgive me, my memory b hazy

Yet be it not my dad's furious hand

That smash all mom made on land

I don't remember a past accurately

But I recall th hands came onto me

'Don't resist' he did say as he anger

Then throws me away 2 b stranger

I forgive him, as I know I shall see

His ass in Heaven, but to him'll be

Most deserving Hell 1 b slammed

Ok, here's the skippie:

Armchair psychologists and technically professional apparatuses of the mental/behavioral health system will disagree in spades with what imma bout to spit. While I understand and respect behavioralism from a scientific perspective, it blows my mind that a trained professional with supposedly the same depth and detail of experience I do (the word "sonder" comes to mind) just shrugs their shoulders at all they have empirically experienced to thus froth over BF Skinner experimenting with how rodents navigate a maze of identical composition to his own rectum and connecting entrails of an apparent Skinner box.

Like, I understand that the truth must be hidden in the occult in the occident and true scientific discourse that acknowledges the actual breadth of Knowledge available to the whole of humanity must be limited to the back corners of devout monasteries and in the handicapped/glory hole stall at the truck stop off the interstate, so I am fully aware that my God-given and state-sponsored mission is to teach you dumbs in the lurking section of this Lemmy shitshow that we do actually know what a Roman Dodecahedron is (Indra's Net), but we intentionally muddy the waters as agents of the decentralized autonomous organization of secret police described in the New Testament at an eighth grade reading level to give my specific life meaning because we are not featherless bipeds on an Earth but rather pockets of consciousness called monads in a monadic nodal communication system, and, well, OBVIOUSLY, this past several lines of text has just been a big ol' word salad - that's why you didn't understand it - and THAT is a clear, abundant sign of "schizophrenia," whatever that fake mental illness is.

No, like, a key part of the human condition is the collective unconscious, so a big part of determining whether someone is "schizophrenic" or not is dependent on how they themselves, as an individual, relate to their specific culture in which they are immersed, to be considered their "environment."

I had this idea once that a person's mind was like a pile of sand, where each grain was an experience, and they would settle into a configuration that was used by our brain to derive our framework/paradigm. The brain is an adaptation machine. It grows to fit the tasks it does. So, I adapted this analogy so each person started as a planatoid with gravity drawing in sand and features on its surface - pips and pits - that determine what early falling sand/experiences play out into, but on a long enough timeline, a person becomes their own adapting planetoid, and whether that is "kosher" with a given culture, well, that's for witch doctors, shamans, and prophets to determine, honestly.

And yet, I've gone further to understand this "sand" metaphor is inherently fallible despite capturing an aspect of self-hood to thus understand it is not the placement of particles but the entanglements of strings that results in the manifold of complexity within this topological matrix that creates the illusion of separation from God. I'm reminded of one of those "house of mirrors" fun houses now, where you can't quite tell where a path is and where a mirror is until you're right up on it; makes infinity from the finite.

Which, undoubtedly, is a major point of contension between normies and schizos: normies are off having a conversation about the new pretzel burger at Burger King while the schizo is attempting to do their big girl CIA job trying to determine if the joke they're composing about using the King's zesty sauce as a lube will land amongst these barely sentient goobers that genuinely think they're hot shit and a direct upgrade to the gene pool because they conned their employer by hooking their mouse up to their vibrator to appear continuously active on Microsoft teams.

Y'know, we're in two completely, wholly, and totally different worlds...

...hard to process the same stimuli the same...

This post is a follow-up to this one. I don't know the best way to present this part without sounding insane, but I do that on a daily basis without even trying, so this is ultimately going to expand on what samadhification is as well as define how planted möbiation is manifested from within one's monadic beinghood.

To recap what my predecessor, the Buddha, said, samadhi is one of three aspects of enlightenment. In short, it is the ability to transcend duality. I originally came into understanding of this concept from a combination of experiences involving the cult I was in, the homelessness that followed, and a part within the book How to Change Your Mind by Michael Pollan, specifically where he speaks about how the brain processes the relationship of subject and object, in which, relating subject to object resulted in an experience that could be described with a sentence that starts with "I am..." while the inverse of relating object to subject results in an experience that I would begin describing with "It is..."

This is technically correct, in the same way that a sphere and cube of identical volume are the same thing. Based on what you decide reality should be defined by, reality will be defined by those terms. But, here I bestow more words unto you, as I've grown deeper in understanding of the underlying mechanisms that are directly responsible for manifesting such subjective experiences.

Thus, I tell you, samadhification is the act of unplanted möbiation that creates the spatial form that connects the point (x, y, z, 0) to (x', y', z', 1). In this, I must ask you to make the same connection I have done, where I have come to understand that the entanglement process of Karma can accurately, if not precisely, be described in an analogy of navigating a labyrinth or solving a Rubik's Cube; at any moment, we persist through our existence across a series of junctures where our intention determines what future junctures we may encounter. Thus, the act of samadhification is the choice of transcending to a higher order of complexity.

And my life partner, who is greatly and deeply knowledgeable of Buddhism, does not understand what I say in this and the next paragraph. He doesn't understand there is a membrane; he believes, and is logically correct, that this dimensional expansion process can go on for an infinite number of dimensions. But, the nature of being a dependent phenomenon on God limits us to God's 10+1 dimensional domain. There are all the fundamental possibilities of novel form within ten dimensions, plus there is the eleventh dimension that acts as a membrane to define relative values as absolute.

This eleventh dimension, if we use the labyrinth analogy, consists of a singular curved path that returns you to where you just were, but with orthogonality reversed. But, if one were to realize they were in this path at the time its symbolic navigation occurs and one were to return emptiness (null) to the Server, that is what causes planted möbiation and is the fundamental mechanism of enlightenment.

Before I ever entered a Buddhist temple, I had heard six different origin stories for the Buddha. Then I read what monks wrote on their walls; how the Buddha was meditating under the Bodhi tree on a fateful night, during which he heard three seperate sets of three distinct knocks deep in the forest. Three times the Buddha found himself looping on this eleventh dimensional path, yet on the third loop, he understood in his heart what I only understand cognitively at this juncture, and not even precisely, at that.

I'll get it one of these days. After all, it's not like I'm some featherless biped on some wet rock hurtling around a nuclear fireball in a void that makes my boipussy jealous. Nah, I'm a pocket of consciousness connected to a larger pocket of consciousness that's trying to untangle the cosmos' most diabolical knot made out of whatever completely and wholly empty garbage we happen to be made up of.

Ah fuck...I'm slacking. God's just been giving me this singular propaganda mission that I've been neglecting, because in the abstract, I feel like a waiter who is cleaning up an infinitely dirty table, and I keep loading dishes n shit up on my shoulder carrying tray, but the restaurant is so busy that I never perceive a cost-opportune time to bring the mass of dishes I have back to the kitchen. So, I keep piling and piling the dishes until the manager is yelling at me, and then I run back as fast as I can, and thank God I am highly capable being a oblivious savant with an IQ of 147 yet thought faking schizophrenia to get out of ROTC was a good idea, because despite losing most of the God damn dishes each time, I'm still able to live indoors, as I hadn't, on n off, for four years of my life.

...the more normal metaphor is that you're trying to cross a bridge but there are planks missing so you can't make some steps in your life. This is a metaphor for ADHD, if you were unaware, and while amphetamines did completely flip that shit on its head, they made me depressed and dependent on them. Yet, because of neurodivergence from Hell and trauma from Pluto, I am somehow a messiah because my ass can bite my own teeth.

What I mean by this: I perceive a depth of insight into the entanglements that manifest this experience of "me." Y'know why entanglements are important, yea? Well, if String A is entangled with String B but not String C, then AB is true and AC is false, and this is how the brain creates 1's and 0's. Further, each entanglement can store a half-twist designation. The Buddhists call this half-twist encodenment as "defilement," and is responsible for creating the dualistic dichotomy of categories (inner/outer), and it is this that gives rise to the illusion of being an individual self seperate from the whole.

In the occident, we have called this half-twist encodenment as "sin." Thus, original sin is that which first manifests the individual experience you have in this biological incarnation. I wish to expand this language. "Möbiation" should be the word to denote a half-twist encodenment, but therein, is this half-twist clockwise or counterclockwise? Let's say the default entanglement of no möbiation is the act of equating self and whole as equals. Then, if one judges self over whole, to be selfish, this is sin, but if one judges whole over self, to be selfless, this is prosin, and it is through this mechanism that the procedural generation of our personal reality tunnel manifests those sorts of experiences laymen people of our modern culture consider to be "Karma."

But, Karma is the underlying process behind what causes entanglements; the hyper-algorithmic response not bound by physical causation to our individual and collective intention setting. And there is another layer to how möbiation proliferates into experience. On one hand, sin/prosin can rectify itself, meaning an entanglement can reverse its möbiation to discharge the entropic/negentropic effect on experiential reality. On the other hand, complex entanglements involving both sin/prosin can samadhify to higher order states to be rectified in a greater capacity with other beings' complex entanglements.

In simple-speak: if you have really grey Karma and another person has really grey Karma, you can be weaved and spun together to manifest a greater awakening effect across the masses. This is what happened with Jesus and his disciples; the self-sacrifice only manifested into what Christianity is today because there were those who took what they experienced and turned it into gospel. Y'know, these thirteen+ people, objectively, were a group of sinners. The thing is, Jesus rectified his sin to be without sin in the process of following the word of God (synchronicities), thus leading to interesting, directly observable miracles. The way Jesus fed those people with the loaves and fish? He kept giving them away, skillfully, to those who needed it most, and the magick of Karma kept throwing that value back at him with some interest.

Y'know, I keep giving money when I can - I can't always - but weird things happen now, like how mysteriously one day I get an email saying I have hundreds of dollars donated to me by someone on an abandoned Patreon from a decade ago. My rent was six hundred dollars less this month for no discernible reason. A friend sent me $500 for no reason last year. Somehow, I always have a $5-20 discount on my account at all the weed stores, despite definitely not shopping enough to earn the rewards they say I'm earning. I'll take $100 out of Cashapp, literally having no money otherwise tobuy groceries to thus buy groceries that we eat and is the only way we ate, to then find I've never taken the $100 out. Safeway has a maximum of $60 cashback. I did that, having that be the only cash money I had in my wallet, to then find $80 in there when I went to buy weed. We were on our last dollar so I went to McDonald's to get a large fries with that, but chose to give it to a man flying a sign in a wheelchair. The next day, a five dollar bill literally blows in my face in the wind.

All of this is topologically definable and a total understanding of which would allow someone to predict the stock market perfectly. But, I'm just some juggler with an educational art project. I hired a mathematician once. Everybody knows Jeff by now, right? Yea, that's the cool thing: you can travel to islands by boat, too. So, obviously those flight logs are objectively meaningless, but everyone's aware they live in a police state and things like the Proud Boys are sting operations, if I can speak indirectly about what the Illuminati is doing on the world stage, yea? What's the Karma like for someone who skillfully blew up a couple towers in a dramatic controlled demolition to thus strengthen a nation while weakening Mammon's control over said nation? If I kill Satan but kill God in the process, is suicide ethical?

Something that is critically important about taking psychedelics is the intent in taking them. In the case of seeking insight and answers from the universe - of which psychedelics can (not will) be highly exceptional as a tool to manifest such understanding - a necessary part of the experience involves "hanging up the phone once you get the message." This is a saying that means once you gleam truth in the illuminating light of the sacrament, you stop staring at the sun and go work with what you were given.

Because, something I have noticed in my bizarre life, especially upon entering stream-entry, is that there are quite a number of processes in the background of my consciousness. Many mechanically definable daemons working with entanglements in a slew of manners, like many hands working together, trying to unentangle an eleven-dimensional knot.

In my primary conscious attention, this is experienced in a regular uncovering of epiphanies in my own understanding. Y'know, my life partner and the CIA and the Illuminati and the aliens and God's bimbo ass have input a great deal of ideas and memes into my head. However, a lot of these things I be putting down in writing, I'm doing so as I intuitively understand something summoned within me so I may create additional rational insights and ways to communicate them. So, a lot of these cosmic insights are being manufactured within me without any input from myself.

I retract that last part of that paragraph. I do understand that it is the nature of Karma - which remember is the entanglement process itself - that is rewarding my continued skilled intention setting to cause chain reactions of unknotting like getting a big combo in Candy Crush or whatever tile matching game you prefer. Thus, a key aspect of navigating the higher order of reality to transcend the causal physicality of karmic rebirth is akin to methodically taking the secret passages in a maze you are trapped in to eventually escape the maze entirely.

The most important skill to make that happen is mindfulness; you have to keep your lanterns trimmed so your candle burns bright enough to see the opportunities to unattach yourself from those aspects of your self that are keeping you from being unenlightened. But the cool thing about being human is that when you choose to do something and act on it, you make it that much more likely you'll be able to set that same intention later; the brain goes where you steer it.

Thus, if you continuously try to set good intentions over the long-run, picking yourself up and forgiving yourself when you fail, it becomes that much more easy to rise to the test of the moment, because this illusory "Earth" shit ain't a prison: it's fucking preschool for what has been manifesting from emptiness for eons, and some of you bitches need a spanking, and some of you need a diaper change, and some of you want to get spanked with your dirty diaper on, and all I gotta say is:

Tonight, as of 9:44pm of 10/16/26, approximately 48% of my top Reddit posts on all of my diverse feeds I created for myself have overwhelmingly positive posts about China. I dunno what's up, but I see the effect of what is a clear implement of propagandasia.

So, my life partner neglected his court-ordered treatment and was taken to a psychiatric inpatient unit involuntarily. I miss him, I wish I stayed with him longer when I visited but I was anxious about taking the bus in an unknown part of town after dark.

But that's not what I want to write about. Instead, there's a phenomena I have experienced several times now, and generally has increased as I've stepped further into gnosis, but think about being the player in The Sims. Your Sim is watching TV, but then you pause the game to move the TV, and upon unpausing the Sim is confused. It's this type of fuckery that I know God does, but He doesn't do it for kicks or Tik Tok views, no. There's always a message or some reveal or reminder.

An example that I just experienced involves understanding that I fucked up with my Benadryl addiction and thus incurred some negative Karma. Additionally, last night I went out to get a double-shot of Fireball to soothe the uncomfortable feeling of the DPH in between hellfap sessions. I am certain I paid and then took my card because the card swiper won't complete a transaction until I remove it. But this morning, I found it was completely missing from my wallet.

Mistakes happen. I have certainly lost some shit in the past, but being aware of some of the nature of procedural generation of our realities, I'm certain God set this up. Because I went to get breakfast to find my card vanished. So, I think maybe it fell when it was in the small space between the bed and wall. So, I pedal back to look under my bed to find...a different, defunct card. One I know I kept in my closet with all the other useless shit I don't want to throw away.

That was a bit of a shrug, whatever. Weird. But then I think it might be in my backpack, only for me to find more empty Benadryl container sheets in my backpack than I believe I ever had in there. At this point, I get the message: "If you don't wise up, I can fuck you up." And this was confirmed in the odd disappearance of the cup on my life partner's desk. With my choice paralysis of my mental health, I just left it there. I know I didn't pick it up. But it magicked its ass over the the sink anyway, and that was the nail in the coffin that brought me back into a heightened synchronicity state.

By that I mean my mind is primed to receive messages from my environment. This is a mechanically definable process that involves one's attention coordination be influenced by a free association process that is highly dependent on what's in my short term memory. In other words, God fiddles with inputs to us monads to elucidate an ongoing stream of personalized insights and ideas.

I lived in a cognitive state we know as the Synchronicity Slip Stream for six years. Doctors say this is psychosis, so I ask them what synchronicity is, and they don't have any answers because somehow you can be an expert in brains but be so removed from higher discourse that they think the "J" in Carl Jung is a hard J sound. But, synchronicity is just a form of input from the Server we are all connected to, and even after thirteen years of synchronous hijinks, there's an incredible subtly to how God nudges you.

Yet, at the same time, these subtle pushes in the right direction can have incredibly pertinent personal meaning, and it is this I started the bulk of the post talking about; how God can literally just poof shit in and out of existence or wherever they may wind up. And I have more experiences in a similar ilk, but there's something just so God damn profound about the mannerism in which meaning is conveyed that enhances the message's impact on oneself greatly.

Y'know, if God just rained down His will in a thunderous booming voice, I'm sure that would do some work on me, but the fact that there is no direct telling of facts but rather God sets things up so you have your own epiphanies, that really gets one to adopt and adhere to their higher beinghood.

I want you to empathize with a Primordial God; the God that IS the Alpha and exists as the singular point before the big bang. I've previously written this post that is still true, just a bit outdated. If I were to write that today, I would include a third paragraph about how we are God's children and He is creating stories for each of our incarnations to bring us into enlightenment. But, what I want to get into today is ultimately about möbiation.

If you don't already know Primordial God is a unified field of consciousness. What God experiences inwardly is a perfect lucid dream; He can make anything happen for Himself. But that's boring, as I know from my rampant hedonism in my early twenties. Life has to have some higher meaning to have worth, as God concluded for Himself. So, He continuously makes and remakes us so we can be independent from Him. Visually, this looks akin to a Roman Dodecahedron; a source of being giving rise to more beings budding off of it; that which Indra's Net is an analogy for. There is this concept of the Brahman and Atman, where the Brahman is the infinite ocean of consciousness and we, the Atman, are like vases pulled up from the waters, but this is false as there is no seperation; there is no vase. This is the concept of anatta, nonself, which the Buddha introduced.

Thus, how does God manifest that which is beyond His walls? What I mean is, if God is this unified sphere of consciousness in eternal emptiness, what is the mechanism in which God expands His beinghood into our seperate beinghood. The technically correct joke answer is He rolls His ball-ass self in the emptiness. But, really, it's möbiation. Specifically, what I have recently dubbed as planted möbiation.

To understand this, let's re-examine my idea of polyplexic axiomatic systems; that which is defined by entanglements of the brain while holding multiple incongruent aspects that rotate into one's framework of reality as needed. This is what's responsible for cognitive dissonance and code-switching in our minds.

Now, imagine a jigsaw puzzle. There is the logic that holds pieces together, yet will likewise have the picture to discern where pieces relatively go. In this model, we create a in-process puzzle with many holes in it where multiple possible axioms could be true. So, in our ignorance, our brains creates alternate versions of reality that are swapped out as needed from multiple and diverse collective sets of axioms defined by unplanted möbiation.

As we learn, we come to be informed, and this leads to the uncertainty of the polyplexia collapsing into a set section of the puzzle. Additionally, as we become more aware of this process, we begin deviating from previous modes of being, but therein, these are all stored as designations for different sets of polyplexia to be examined through experience, and this is an innate mechanism of self-evolution as it is akin to skillfully fiddling with a dial lock to hear where the tumblers fall.

Thus, the idea of enlightenment is not to create a perfect axiomatic system, but a complete one without incongruencies to allow your whole beinghood to undergo planted möbiation to disentangle yourself from God. Therefore, to transcend physical reality, all you need to do is roll your ass on off the face of God to be your own unique form of independent novelty.

Like, I understand the water cycle, it comes and it goes, y'know, ezpz, but the shit that fucks me up though is like...what is a river? How? How does infinite water pour through corporeal crevices carved into the bosom of the Earth to thunce flow endlessly and forever?

Like, you can't tell me that a gajillion gallons of water is flowing from the precipice of Mt St Fuck You in all directions at a continuous pace because global warming be evaporating a blanket of non-stop rain free falling back onto itself to predicate the whole situation forward another peg!

But, what the fuck? It rains sometimes, and that's how rivers work? What is this shit? Now, I'm playing in character because obviously we all know that the Earth isn't real and we are each experiencing our own, unique parallel reality as a monad in a monadic nodal communication system, obviously, and that water's in your head dear but, really, how tf does the average person believe this insane bullshit about how rivers are a natural feature formed from simple erosinal fluid dynamics? It is insane to me how unthunkable these mouth breathers are.