silent thunder

Some Neurobiologists are describing the human perceptual process as one of individualized hallucination. With our senses and the mental processes that transduce those sensory inputs into our conscious experience, we vividly hallucinate our own individual interpretation of experiential reality. Sages around the ancient world described this and understood it; now slowly, steadily, so too, do the Acolytes of the Western God of Scientific Process. Thirty spokes form a wheel, yet it's the empty space at the center which allows the cart to move. No matter which direction you move, you will encounter Source. Everything I love and Everything i despise, arise from one source... the difference between the two then, must lie within.

For me, it's an allusion to the notion that our experience of reality is what is generated within us, as we interpret our senses. It's a nod to the experience that our senses do not provide our local conscious ego awareness with a complete, or even very accurate depiction of reality, only a heavily interpreted aproximation. The interpretation being formed from the ages of 0-7-ish inherited entirely from familial, societal and environmental conditioning. Robert Anton Wilson describes the individual perceptual experience of reality as a Reality Tunnel. A tunnel of perception comprised of our biases, notions of normality and sense of the familiar. I've always resonated with that phrase for it. Once formed the tunnel will tend to reject, attack or ignore anything that conflicts with its notions of normal, good and bad and true vs false. Directly inversely, anything supporting one's notions and assumptions will tend to be 'championed', 'held up like a banner of truth'. Each of us occupies a reality unique to our perceptual process. Like facets of a gem made of liquid light. puts me in mind of the jewels of dew on Indra's Net...

Hell yea you can say it, clearly and distinctly. I'll hear it and so will some others who will appreciate it deeply. Whether it will impact the behavior of predatory, projectionist pervs... no idea. But intention is the shit with me lately. And it's no longer about altering conditions with me, but planting seeds. Sprinkle em everywhere, some will take. More and more in the current social environment push back against women in particular, I love and appreciate the intention to call this shit out and not let is pass unattended. Silence and accomodation, breeds isolation... and victimization thrives on silence and isolation. Nice and loud. Call that shit out!

curious... What about supposedly triggering orgasms in people without their awareness or consent? is that creepy too?

Neil's voice has always been discomforting to me. Never been a fan.

Ran across this in my side feed on youtube tonight... thought of you @Starjumper

whoa... timing...! *deep bow of gratitude*

Don't be too quick to draw conclusions from what happens to you; simply let it happen. Otherwise it will be too easy for you to look with blame... at your past, which naturally has a share with everything that now meets you. ~Rainer Maria Rilke

Hey there, welcome back. The whole scenario has developed in a manner so abstract to my sense of normal, the feeling when reading the news, is as if I've been in a coma for decades and have awakened in a Terry Gilliam film world, a tweaked out mix of Brasil, Dr Parnassus and Zero Theorum.

I once found the least direct, most efficient path to a beneficial spot to camp by following the lay of the land and not the line of my eye... This naturally led near water where I slaked my thirst, provided shade from wind and sun, while garnering an easy natural snack of berries while I walked... Don't recall using philosophy for that, as i was being practical. By its nature, philosophizing seems a mental process of complication, a juggling of thoughts of the mind, or a chewing of mental bones for any of a myriad of reasons, entertainment, self soothing, boredom, curiosity, ego pacification, ego magnification, competition, demonstration, perspicacity, none of which seem particularly practical for life aside from filling time once the practical needs of life have been fulfilled at present. Thinking, reading and conversing about thoughts... only practical if all the practical stuff n such is done n stuff. Course... what is practical? I'd say, procurement of food, shelter, water, safety. The world as talked about, thought about and read about, seems a mental game, not a practical life asset; an exercise in shared verbal modeling of the projections of mental interpretations of phenomenologically transduced noumenon.

In the history of phenomenological reality... has any raindrop ever fallen in the wrong spot... that i, or any other influence could have set it right through action or avoidance? Better for whom? Better than what? Co arising conditions are as they are, ever shifting and balancing, yet never balanced. The universe of phenomenon is as it is... This is it. What else?

i write this, staring at a box, while sitting in a box. typing letters onto a keyboard made of small inverted boxes. that when pressed, store letters in the box of a computer. the words are made available to other boxes. your attention may stray upon them, while staring at your own box of lights. box life. we form in a womb we are born in a box we grow up in a box we live in a box often with locks where we voluntarily lock ourselves in at night... to be safe born in a box. we go to school in a box. to learn about life... in a box. then we go to work in a box. earning money to pay for a box. in which to voluntarily lock ourselves in, to sleep at night we wake up in a box. eating food from a box. that was stored in a box. within a room that is a box. in the home that is a box, with locks. make babies in a box go on vacation and travel from box to box, in a box... perhaps the occasional tube... take pictures with a box. watch movies on a box. transition to death and get viewed... in a box. we put lots of stuff in boxes. made in factories that are boxes. stored in boxes of rooms stacked in giant warehouse buildings... that are boxes. deliver the boxes to other boxes, in moving boxes. store our food in cold boxes. or boxes hung on the wall. keep our utensils in boxes. our tools in boxes. our clothes in boxes. then we shit in a wet porcelain hole and send that... to a box. my son goes to a box for 6-10 hours a day for 13-20 years and at the end of that, he's expected to go out into the world and be prepared for and excel at life... and is expected to know what box he wants to voluntarily sit in for the next 40 years, so he can earn money in order to 'pay' for another box that he can voluntarily lock himself inside at night to eat, sleep and be 'safe' in... box life.

After growing up in the woods of Minnesota and playing outside all summer long, I endured tens of thousands of bites. At some point, there was a shift in my body it seems and I went from being bitten relentlessly to now being ignored utterly by most mosquitoes, or biting insects in general and when rarely bitten, there is no reaction. No bump, no itching and no pain. So, I suppose I may still be getting bitten, without awareness. Seems the body adjusted at some point and reaction, dissipated. This became unignorably apparent while camping at Gooseberry Falls with a buddy one summer. Around the fire, he was covered in two long sleeve shirts, saturated in deet and eventually ended up retreating to hang out in the tent, unable to deal with the swarm that relentlessly sought his skin... while I, in swim trunks sat a few feet from him, utterly ignored. He left two days early grumbling and shaking his head... kept saying he must be the 'luscious foreign food' as he packed up. My wife is a magnet to mosquitoes with no adjustment for the 30 years I have known her. She often sleeps, even in the heat of summer, in a full blanket pulled up to her nose and a pillow covering her head. If mosquitoes are present, she wakes looking like a prize fighter with swollen eyes and cheeks, while I, lying next to her nude and uncovered am ignored.

G'mornin Gal! Great thought... bone broth. Thought prompts action, action rearranges life bits into broth; broth revitalizes body and mind thinks more thought. reality: fluid and mingled... like broth.

the world reality as thought about... is the world reality as it is?

wow. just wow. some people emit dumbass and naive realism in equal measure, effortlessly...

if all out release of an emotional response is unrealistic, or due to inertia and circumstances seems unattainable, or untenable... i find i am often able to 'stop feeding it' instead, which seems to work as a functionally practical option. in time dropping it becomes more feasible and approachable, in my experience. i also have found that closing my eyes and trying to locate the specific location of the experience in my body, to work as a very effective 'carrier interrupt signal', so to speak. in the interlying search for where the experience is physically, a sort of distance is created from it in mind, whereby what was an immersion, becomes a pursuit and seeking by an 'observer'. good hunting and in the end, it's all in us already, source, what we love, what we despise... it's all one process.

I adore this tea! Drinking Gynostemma is like drinking pure liquid light.

these two, concurrently, looped...

I regularly remind folks that Orwell's prophetic vision of 1984 was meant as a warning... not a how to manual.