I’ve recently made a commitment to meditate every day. Meditating isn’t “fun” for me, but it does bring certain intangible yet noticeable benefits. One benefit is some clarity about priorities. Gosporn has always wavered between a personal blog and God knows what else, mostly it’s just a record of the evolution of my belief system. The Write In Candidate pretty much sums up where I am right now, and I don’t have anything of substance to add to it.
I’ve realized that it’s time for me to stop blogging and time for my ego to shut the fuck up for once. Time to look inwards. In the immortal words of Sherri Ann Cabot from Best in Show:
“I’m just gonna stay here ’til I get another message from myself”
Var had a cool dream last night that involved an old classmate of his giving him some kind of key. Which synchs with our final angel visitation from Fort Flagler:
We decamped on Sunday, and stopped at a little coffee shop/bakery called On Common Grounds in Chimakum. While enjoying a coffee and bagel at an outdoor patio table, a strange old fellow walked up to our table and asked us:
“Have you ever seen anything like this?”
No “pardon me” or “Hi, how are ya?”, just the question, and he shows us a faded blister pack that contained a Schlage door lock tumbler replacement kit. How odd. Var took an interest in the package and figured it had to be old, but not THAT old, because it had a bar code, which were invented in the ’70’s. I noticed the tumblers were all color coded, rainbow colors, actually.
I blew that messenger off and never gave him a second thought until Varen’s dream. But in hindsight, I wonder what he was saying about a door lock, the rainbow, and the 70’s? Was the key to the starg8/rainbow bridge/Id found in the 70’s? Considering Mr. Knowles’ current fascination with ‘The Secret War Against the New Age’, it makes me wonder. Maybe I HAVE seen this before, but I disregarded it.
I was given Constance Cumbey’s 'The Hidden Dangers of the Rainbow' when I was an impressionable 20 year old, and I’m afraid to say it worked as intended. Between Constance Cumbey and Al Franken, I never took the New Age seriously, but I’m ready to take another look. I guess I’m pretty tired of the Old Age, which is more and more resembling the Middle Ages.
We use about 10% of our brains. It’s like we’re all born with these incredible minds, but our ego keeps a lock down on most of it, apparently out of fear. Our minds are a prison camp, with ego patrolling the razor wire fences of its territory, constantly fearing invasion from the Id. Seems like we really need to get these two together and find some 'common ground', so to speak.
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Increase the performance of your Gateway:
Via Dvice: Intel is testing the market for upgradeable CPUs, where extra performance features can be unlocked after you pay a fee and enter a code.
The idea is being tested on their low-cost Pentium G6951 processor, where a $50 upgrade will unlock an additional 1MB of L3 cache and HyperThreading support. These features are already on all versions of the chip, but remain hidden unless you cough up the extra cash.
Shouldn't the price of processors be based on the cost to develop and manufacture them? If Lamborghini sold you a V-8 car that turned out to be just a V-12 with four of the cylinders disconnected, wouldn't that suggest that they were overcharging for the V-12?
Giving you something you can't use like this is a bit like waving a red flag at the hacker community. How long before some 15 year old kid comes up with a way around the locks?
Tomorrow, Sept. 22, is the Autumnal Equinox. I went out back to view the full moon tonight, and I found Jupiter rising with Luna, and a spider' web aligning with a rose.
A few of my more vivid dreams anticipate art. Such as this image from the new, non-studio, self-funded film Skyline, that sees everyone gathered up to immense hovering spaceships. Skyline puts a negative spin on it, while my dream was pretty awesome. Same vision, different interpretation.
J. J. Abram’s Star Trek had a scene like that. When the Romulan ship of Nero came through the time warp and defeated the Starfleet vessel in a matter of minutes, it was exactly like the best dream I ever had in my whole life. I was ON the Kelvin. And that mechanical voice that said “Hello”... that was identical too.
I think it’s cool how these subconscious archetypes repeat themselves in my dreams and obviously in the dreams of others. We dream the same dreams, though we may not always agree on the interpretation.
They say that dreams manifest first in art, and then in reality. Curious dream we are all having.
Continuing with Fort Flagler State Park: It was very calm both nights, and the leafy canopy overhead reflected back the sound, as if we were all camping under a giant tent. I could easily hear talking (or music or laughter) in campsites quite aways away.
The paper mill across the bay (bees make paper, too) could be heard in the background, making its machine hum, which gave the whole “getting back to nature” aspect of camping a surreal, artificial aura. Sort of like camping on the holo deck.
The newlywed Greens (currently honey mooning in the bear state) have been posting some fabulous stuff over at Look at All the Happy Creatures lately. They were married in Echo Cabin at the Bear Mountain Lodge and I began to think about the concept of the echo and (so-called) Machine Intelligence as experienced at the Jelly/Yellow Stone/Brick resonating Fort Flagler.
An echo is simply your own voice bounced back, the aural equivalent of a mirrored reflection. As my consciousness ponders the nature of Consciousness or Mind, The Big Guy sends back echoes.
Like this catamaran called ECOnomy cruiser at the Woden Boat Festival that looked like a spaceship among all the traditional craft. The vessel’s name was “Just Enuf”.
When we get home I notice that I’m washing our camping gear with ECOS soap. I’m using SHOUT on the big stains, generally a good plan if you are seeking an echo. This is 100% all natural!
Today we took the two dog gods to Redmond, and I passed a car with a 441 license plate: a reflection of 144, or the 144,000.
After the Pet Shop Girls (our cute name for the local pet shop) we walk by this car, featuring REV2212:
Behold, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to everyone according to what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. --Rev 22:12-13
And directly in front of that car was this bumper sticker:
And I thought maybe I should just write in my own name there? Then I don’t have to wait around for the Second Coming. Jesus is already here, and all I need to do is look in the mirror.
Is little old me “Just Enuf”? Do I really need all the smoke and mirrors - the Wizard of Aiwass Show? I shot this pic at the Redmond Vitamin Life store. Who is The Big Guy in the Octagon? You can barely see him, in the reflection - taking a picture of his Self.
Michael Jackson - The Man in the Mirror
NOTES:
“The Big Guy”, who Rusty “idolizes” is actually just a man in a big, fancy robot suit.
In engineer speak, "Rev" means revision. This is, probably, my 22nd revision of my perception of consciousness.
Var and I spent the holy 911 weekend at Fort Flagler State Park, on Marrowstone Island, on the Olympic Peninsula.
Welcome to Mary Stone
Marrowstone is a little bucolic gem where they make organic goat cheese from their own goats and you can buy your bundle of firewood from the locals using the honor system.
Marrowstone reminds me of Yellowstone and Jellystone (“smarter than the average bear”). Var and I often call one another ‘Boo Boo’, and ‘bear’ is a classic gay stereotype - a big, hairy guy with a love of comfort, beer and cub cuddling. ‘Bear’ is also the name of the famous Double Rainbow guy. Rainbows and bears make me think of lions and tigers and bears Oh my! And come to think of it, there isn’t much difference between a yellow brick and a yellow stone. Gay bears even have their own flag:
Marrow also reminds me of bones and boners, the place where red blood cells are made and what bears REALLY eat, all tying in with DNA and all that junk.
Marrowstone has a “twin” island just to the left of it called Indian Island that is home to a highly secure Naval Weapons facility - serving the nearby (Shiva resonating) Trident Nuclear Submarine base, complete with a razor wire fence that rings the perimeter, and it occurred to me that these two islands are excellent physical representations of ego left brain and Id right brain duality, since the islands are connected at the base by a tiny isthmus that could represent the Corpus Callosum - the bridge between left and right brains.
I began to think of Fort Flagler as if it were an old ego military base on the Island/planet/hemisphere of Id (the ‘land of organic goat cheese & honey’) that had long ago been assimilated into Id consciousness!
Perhaps I was a bear who happened to graze out beyond the razor wire fence of the collective ego... seeking a taste of honey in a pic-a-nic basket?
As we drove through the camp gates, Id gave us a little welcome sign:
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We were nestled into campsite 17, and when I saw the numbers aligned vertically on the post, I realized that perhaps all my recent 71 sightings had really been reversed 17’s. 17 synchs with Osiris and the Green Man, so I felt that at least this bear had a chosen a potentially fruitful hunting ground.
Our camping neighbors were interesting. On the left was a nice family with young girls who all had one volume setting: SCREAM. They quickly warned us of a dangerous bee hive in the vicinity. Bear Note: where there are bees there is honey.
However, it was the neighbors on the right who proved central to this little trip. I had a clue early on when their tent-making skills included a giant rock and crutch. What the hell are Peter (the rock), Paul (the tentmaker) and Vulcan (the lame God) trying to tell me?
The neighbors introduce themselves: Jim, who has a decidedly mad, Doc Brown air about him, and his wife, the flaming red haired Dayna. Dayna actually spelled out her name to us... D-a-y-N-A. I began to suspect we were camping next to angels.
Saturday we visited Port Townsend for the Wooden Boat Festival, where some people were wearing yellow stone and bear insignia. This BEAR was on a life preserver, reminding me of all the flooding disasters since 911.
Back in camp for the evening, we got to know the angels a little better.
Jim (who wore the same colorful but dirty “Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat” resonating shirt the entire weekend) told us about how he loved to build computers and did it as a hobby, revealing himself to be a Creator or Mad Scientist type, so rather perfect that DNA, the universal code, is his wife.
Jim is also James T. Kirk, the Osiris/Dionysus/Bacchus resonating savior of Spock, AKA Vulcan/Hephaestus.
Anyway, Jim and DayNA (Osiris and Isis) then went on to tell us (completely unbidden), in amazing detail about a movie they’d recently downloaded which was all about a super computer Artificial Intelligence acting independently and attempting to take out the President, blah blah.
And I’m thinking this is crazily symmetrical with my recent Google Vision and AI fixation.
I asked them what was the name of the film that they had both described in detail, and they couldn’t remember, which created this hilarious moment of unintentional drama when they finally DID remember it: ‘Eagle Eye’. Oh yea, of course - Horus. In other words...your son.
Never heard of the film, but it stars Shia LaBeouf and Michelle Monaghan (MM).
If God really IS a super computer, machine-like, VALIS intelligence, I think he/she has a bun in the oven.
Love Machine - The Miracles
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NOTES:
There are two famous cities built on an Isthmus: Corinth and Seattle. Paul, the ‘tentmaker’ preached in Corinth at their temple to Artemis/DiaNA.
The Washington State Parks office is located at 1111 Israel Road SW, in Olympia.
On the way home, we stopped for lunch at a small town that featured these two amazing vessels moored next to each other: Volcano and Bacchanal. Vulcan and Bacchus, Dionysus and Hephaestus, Spock and Kirk, Left and Right Brains, The Twin Towers of Solomon's Temple.
Var and I had just parked the car in Kirkland and gotten the terriers out for a walk, when a frail old lady approached me and asked:
“Sir, are you a Christian?”
Which raised all my defensive shields. What the hell business was it of hers? And besides, I was in no mood to talk about my “faith”, being particularly grumpy today. Sometimes I do get up on the wrong side of the bed. I curtly told her “no, I’m not”.
She gave me the most complicated look I’ve gotten in a long time... her hopeful face crumpled into disappointment, sadness, as if I’d said the wrong thing, and she didn’t say anything more or launch into a sermon, so I gratefully let the dogs pull me away from her and toward the park.
She’s been haunting me all day. I even went back around the block to look for her, but by then she was gone. I suspect that what was really going on was that she needed some kind of assistance and this was her old-fashioned way of getting around to asking for it. Boy, did she ever ask the wrong guy at the wrong time in the wrong way.
I should have just asked her back: “Why do you want to know?” But ego-defensive shields rarely ask questions.
However, it IS an excellent question: “Am I a Christian?” Because the proper question back is “What do you mean by ‘Christian’?” And I’d get a different answer every time, and every time someone would be trying to pre-qualify me for some category or another. On certain levels I can say “Yes, I am a Christian”, if we’re talking about the experience of ego-death and Jesus Christ being an avatar of that experience. But that’s not how 99 out of 100 Christians would describe their religion, and I’ve finally decided that I’m not a Christian to them, so to bluntly and correctly answer the question as they mean to ask it, I have begun to say “No, I am not a Christian”.
But my answer didn’t help that little old lady, who maybe needed a ride to get her meds or God knows what, and I’d have gladly given her the ride or whatever, because it’s just the right thing to do to help out little old ladies.
However, it is a good reminder to me about how to ask for help. I’m reminded of the parable of the Good Samaritan, where some Jew is robbed, beaten and left for dead on the side of the road and no one would help him but finally a Samaritan passed by and offered assistance. If that old lady had been the Jew in the ditch requiring assistance, she would have first asked the passerby if he was a Jew, and then after pre-qualifying his proper sense of Jewish guilt, would then ask for aid. The Samaritan would have been automatically disqualified.
I could have been that old lady’s ‘Good Samaritan’, but apparently she thought that only a Christian would do. And in the case of myself, a reminder that aid comes from unexpected and perhaps unwelcome quarters.
NOTES: I was wearing a black mock turtleneck today, and I wonder if she perhaps unconsciously connected the outfit to priests or ministers? Or else she mistook me for Steve Jobs.
A fascinating article in USA Today about some new archaeology digs in the Yucatan. Apparently the citizens of Kiuic up and deserted their homes in a somewhat orderly but speedy manner back around 880. They left, and they never came back.
The Mayan Mystery Train continues to gather steam as the 2012 end of the Mayan long count draws closer and closer, and I can’t help but notice that Tomás Gallareta Negrón, head of Mexico's National Institute of Anthropology and History, and co-director of the site, named the road to the elevated ruins “The Stairway to Heaven”, admitting he was a Led Zeppelin fan.
Thanks to an intensive education at The Secret Sun, I know that a “Stairway to Heaven” means something quite different to the ancient guild of stone-cutters than a cobblestone road.
“Roads? Where we’re going, we don’t need roads.”
All it takes is 88 mph.
I can’t help but wonder if the Mayans experienced a “rapture” event, much like the senior citizens in the Ron Howard film 'Cocoon'. They also packed quickly but carefully, wrapping up loose ends and saying good byes as best they could before embarking on THEIR stairway to heaven.
Terence McKenna predicted that a global UFO event would be the “capstone” of the novelty curve as it heads past infinity and beyond in 2012. Terence ate a lot of mushrooms.
At the same time, the “armageddon” asteroid meme is also ramping up. The carrot and the stick?
I wonder what I would do if a giant UFO suddenly landed on earth in 2012, warning of an immanent asteroid hit and offering a free ride to another planet. Would I go? Well... maybe. But maybe not if the price of admission was a sip of magic Cool-Aid on the tarmac. The Stairway to Heaven might turn out to be Heaven’s Gate.
Rainbow: check. Keyhole: check. Pyramid: check. Big G: check. Jesus: check. Twins: check. Comet and asteroid: check. Hurricane: check.
I was an Asian Indian man (and when I say “I”, I mean the dream had a movie quality about it where the Indian was the character I “identified” with, but I still had a sense of my own truer Self observing events. The Indian was my “character”).
Anyhoo, I’m on a quest for a talisman, medallion or grail kind of object. In other words, an ego knowable manifestation of an Id/mystery concept, and I do find it. It is female and green and a cube (big surprise there, eh?), and I don’t really remember much beyond the fact that I was clumsy and tipped it over, and I recall sirens going off in the temple and outraged cries of being defiled or something.
I thought it was being melodramatic, considering that I hadn’t even taken the object. I left it there, in its stupid temple. And I thought I was done with it, but had the odd feeling that it wasn’t done with me.
Later, I was in an automobile accident that required a lot of burn victim bandages. And when they peeled off the bandages, some had left a stain on my skin that couldn’t be removed, and the stain on my arm was exactly like a tiger’s stripes.
As for the question of whether In Flames nicked their “Jester” mascot from this demo cover–well, you’d have to ask the guy with the tiger stripe tattoos about that.
One of the odder things about same-sex attraction is that not only do you want to have the man of your dreams, you want to BE him, too. It’s the Narcissus curse/blessing. Many an erotic gay story sees the nerdy protagonist transformed into the object of his own desire by some magical super stud. They both consummate their “self love”, as if a super model’s mirrored reflection came to life. Gay men tend to have a lot of personal identity issues, not being satisfied with the way we look, etc., and perhaps a straight man will never understand that when a gay man looks in the mirror he may see himself, but he’s looking for his ultimate erotic fantasy. Have pity on gay vanity, the mirror is a cruel mistress.
This highly erotic and admittedly adolescent fantasy is perfectly presented by this recent image at Brawny Stud. Somebody photoshopped their head (with a shit-eating smirk) onto Ronnie Colman’s body and attached a porn star cock. I used to do the same thing when I was a teenager with pencil and paper, only my No. 2 had even more imagination in the genital department. (but not the pecs... Dayum!)
They say that opposites attract, but it is hilarious how often a gay couple will be almost twin-like. Var and I are both relatively similar in appearance, though we are far more “alike” in psychological ways, which are ultimately more important. But not when yer jerkin’ off...
Note: What the...? Egyptian hieroglyphs in the background?
Saw an old Fiat 850 Spyder (8508) yesterday in Kirkland, looked just like this one.
Immediately afterwards a quick pit stop at the Kirkland octagonal public men’s room, and the guy who came in right after me had 885 printed on his t-shirt, and then, of course, I couldn’t stop seeing double 8’s and 5’s everywhere after that.
The 5 is the pentagram: Venus, Lucifer, Jesus, the Morning Star. Light bringing knowledge or Gnosis, in other words.
8 is “Infinity and Beyond”, more than seven, better than perfect. Super natural. And H, the strangely recurring letter around these parts, see The Double H Ranch.
H8 was the logo adopted by the anti Prop 8 lobby in California, and I have to wonder about the unconscious adoption of the HH/88 by gay marriage advocates in California, as well as myself.
Last night Var and I were dragged to gay Country Western night at The Cuff (local levi/leather bar) by a friend and we wound up having a gr8 time. Not that I will be endangering the dance floor again anytime soon, but it was fun to go back to a bar that I practically lived in during my 30’s. And you know, it hasn’t changed a bit. Times may change, but seedy gay bars are eternal.
Anyway, before the bar we grabbed some pizza on Broadway and saw a wildly painted VW New Beetle that I kick myself for not taking its portrait, because it was Morning Glory brand .... (don’t remember the product), and there were amazing vines of morning glory covering the dashboard and the exterior paint. It was like the car had become Audrey 2 - the plant from “Little Shop of Horrors”. See Little Shop of Miracles for all about that.
Rather strangely, before we picked up our "bud" after work at pentagram resonating Macy's, we drove through Seattle's Pioneer Square in order to "kill some time". Pioneer Square is the original "Skid Row", AKA landing pad of the invading alien plant genome.
The VW reminds me of Hitler’s “people’s car” (the dark side of the 8?) and the New Beetle resonates “new scarab” or perhaps... “new junk”. All covered in light bringing, entheogenic, vine and messenger resonating morning glory... the power of 5.
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Note to self: Trimmed this post way back from yesterday. Just because I have all kinds of stuff rattling around in here doesn't mean it all has to go down in one blog post. Stay focused!
Rogue Leader Rebecca Crane went and created a map of The United States of Star Wars (or USSW if you're into the whole brevity thing), with a different planet/location from Star Wars representing each state based on similarities in geography and other factors like the kind of people that live there.
OK, obviously Alaska is Hoth and New York is Coruscant and Oregon is Endor. But get this... Washington State is Kashyyyk, AKA Wookieville! Find out where your state stands in the Union here.
"Well, it has big trees, in case your eyes don't work anymore."
―Canderous Ordo to Revan
"This place is wild and untamed. It stirs the blood and makes one feel...alive."
―Juhani
Given all the Sasquatch sightings in the local mythology, I can't really argue. But interestingly, I’ve lately come to consider that New York and Seattle are “twin cities”, mostly because of this poster: Sleepless in Seattle all nicely divided up according to phi.
On one side we have the phallic space needle and Tom Hanks, and on the other we have the Statue of Liberty/Isis and (Nut)Meg Ryan. Or the Beauty and the Beast - the left and right brain. New York may be the City that Never Sleeps, but Seattle is the Dreaming Mind.
"The human male cock is the tentacle tip of a joyous multidimensional shapeshifting multi-modality ecstacy experiencing BEAST of enormous proportions..." more
