Whatever I do, wherever I explore, it seems that I come up against the walls of the Jar. Wherever I go, as far as I push my explorations of terrae incognitae,Latin: unknown lands I can not be lost: I am always on a branch of the Tree that takes the place of universe.
This tree is an algorithm that underlies the sensible world, which is virtual, unreal. It makes you go round in circles, endlessly you come back on your steps, you cut your own tracks like the Thom(p)sons in the desert, and the remains that you discover, you’ve lost them in the previous turn. Whatever topic you explore, the only ultimate reality, the Great Software is hidden behind. Whatever you are looking for, your quest is the one of the software tree of the matrix that gives birth to all, directs all and summarizes all. A gigantic multidimensional game where you are a pawn on the chessboard of Entities, our masters. You can deny them, you can call them Nothingness, you will not make disappear the traces of their action on Earth.
Eons Springtime
It shows on you as on me, it shows on us as on all. Sensitives have understood this for a long time, solar flares are more and more frequent, myriads of photons are bombarding the Earth, the vibratory rate of the planet continues to increase. You must have noticed. The light is no longer the same, the colors of the flowers are more vivid, their perfume more heady, the air is fresher and brighter, the birds sing together, the sun dazzles more, its brightness on the sea makes a stream of millions of glitter which are the flesh of the fairies, the animals are smarter and communicate better with humans, there are among us more and more awakened ones who illuminate the landscape and make still increase the vibratory rate of the Earth, so much so that change will become noticeable even for notaries and lawyers. Bankers and treasurers will then realize, then the Parisian journalists and TV chroniclers. And finally the politicians, always good last to pick the music. Forgive them, those who criticize them do not see the extent of their merit: armless and blind for the most part, these heroes persist in holding the helm despite their handicaps that remove any chance of achieving it. Don’t worry, this too is in the program.
The brain produces light, the brain of the awakened produces it as long as their face shines – they were once called Sons of the Sun. In religious art, this luminous effusion is represented by a halo, it is a coded form whose original meaning was not known to painters and sculptors. The veil of oblivion fell on these realities of the previous humanity. While waiting for him to tear himself apart, let Isis give us his lights. O Isis, by the saving radiance of your thunderbolt, tear the veil that darkens our eyes, O holy Isis, make our eyes appear. The light falling from the sky is brighter and stronger, thanks to the influx of photons. The light that shines in our eyes becomes stronger and brighter, too. This light is pure love. That’s why political staff do not have access, not yet.
Humbly, I am a storyteller, a juggler of ideas, a tamer of phrases, a donor of coloring pictures. It is you, reader, contemplator, who can put your colors on it. I do not defend any truth, no mistake. I do not support any thesis that I can not so well refute to some other place in the saga. Theories are like fashions, they change with the winds. When they happen, we joke them, we laugh. Then we get used to it, we claim it, everyone takes it for granted. So we move on and everyone forgets them. I have no particular affection for the ideas that I throw in the air. I do not shop, I’m not sectarian, I’m not a guru. The very idea of religion offends me, without prejudice to the respect in which I hold all the ritual practices, even the most absurd. Question nonsense, I do not fear anyone. Everyone is free to be idiotic in his own way in this idiotic world anyway. Let’s say it’s even part of the game.
My goal is not to reveal anything. Who would give me the authority? The secrets that I give you are dreams, initiatory tales, celestial or human music, all too human. They contradict each other, of course, because my thought is not organized in any system. Søren Kierkegaard wrote: existence breaks all systems. By this trait he signed the end of the philosophers. At Kant the holidays? I’m not there for Bergson. Althusser for nothing. Nietzsche hinauslehnen. Descartes played. Do not confuse: Busty Bomb and Plato. Aristotle and his Aristocats. Hegel like a pig that is slaughtered. The ovophile dares egg, the philosopher’s calf. A hay of ugly word games for stupid people, I close the apparent ease and pick up the thread at the zoo.
“Nothingness is nothingness of what it results” Hegel wrote in a thrilling block-buster called The Phenomenology Of The Mind, which presents a simple vision of life. Simple as long as you like mental games and puzzles … For Hegel, there is no absolute nothingness, nothing is relative. It depends on the previous state. There is no mountain without a valley, they say. Hegel implies that nothingness has a cause. Nothingness itself can be the cause of anything, it is unmöglich. “Nothingness is nothingness of what it results.” This sibylline sentence made me want to reread Hegel. Philosophy gives a push like drug does. Both are amazing at the first sight. You have splendid, panoramic visions, the world unfolds, everything becomes clear, the harmony is installed and then the eraser passes on the board, it is the descent, you do not understand anything, hard rain is coming back .
“The stories I tell are true, since I invented them myself,” wrote Boris Vian. On the contrary, the historian believes that history is true because he did not invent it himself. Others did it long before him. Let me tell you this: whatever you want to demonstrate, the logic lends itself to it, the evidence flows, the demonstration stands. We can demonstrate everything and its opposite. I have been able to demonstrate that the historicity of Jesus Christ is doubtful, but I can just as easily demonstrate that his passage on earth is beyond doubt. He married his favorite disciple, Mary Magdalene. After his departure, the three Maries left Palestine to land at Saintes-Maries de la Mer, Mary Magdalene was pregnant, she gave birth to a son raised in Arles, and her descendants formed the Merovingian dynasty which have reigned over medieval France. Clovis and his like were Jesus descent.
Jesus did not die on the cross, another took his place, who gave his life for Jesus to live. He left Palestine by the Red Sea, he landed in southern India where he preached for twenty years under the name of Isha, he who was called Ieschoua in Jerusalem. Many theories have been embroidered on his life, all are verifiable, all are worthy of faith, it is everyone’s business to believe or doubt.
That’s what made me touch the walls of the jar. All is true, nothing is false, but contradictory truths can co-exist only if they are managed by a general plan. A plan that is based on logic, and nothing on it. Such a thing exists, it’s called a computer program. Content in a software. Underpinned by a tree. The name, you know it: Matrix 2018.4. In fact, no matter the version, the algorithm is always the same.
And it turns, turns, turns, it takes you where you want.
And you roll, roll, roll on earth and in heaven.
Time flows, flows, flows, you were young and old.
Your turn passes, passes, passes and makes your eyes cry.
One day, the movie stops. Life falls like night. Nothing. Whatever ? Other puppets will come, who will also pass. One day, the adventure stops. Or not … It is said that life continues on another level. But then, all that we have learned will no longer serve us? Doubtful waste …
At 70, I can not stop working on my English pronunciation. To erase the French accent to the maximum. I learn phrases, words, expressions, with the correct way to pronounce them. But what’s the use for the age I have? My knowledge of oral and written English is not perfect, far from it – but it is more than enough for my use. Why do I still worry about getting better? And it happens identically in all branches of knowledge. I study, I cultivate, without respite the knowledge devours me and I succumb with delight. There is not a day going on without learning a lot of new things. Why ? But why, great gods of the galactic center ?? I’m asking you ???
It is as if I were preparing for a new life where I would keep all the knowledge I gained in it.
But there is no new life. There is only this one, with all its parallel lives. We have no second chance. There is no planet B. As much to accept it. And live, name of the gods! Live as never, Shiva Shakti, all nights, all life !!