Perfectibilist Caduceus

Perfectibilist Caduceus

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The Time It Takes Falling Bodies To Catch Light

Creator, Judge or Architect?

There Is a Sanity Clause!

“So tell me,” O’Grady asks with a glint in his eye, “do you believe in God?” The black snake venom is coursing through my bloodstream and organs and his eyes are glowing in the semi-darkness.

He swirls in my blurring vision as the reply rises full-blown from my heart without pause for censorship or amendment; “When most people ask that question, I get the impression they don’t mean ‘is there a creator?’ – they really mean ‘is there a Judge?’.” He meets my gaze levelly. “That’s a very penetrating insight,” he says, “very Jesuitical.” My heart doesn’t pause to bask in the glow of flattered pride but continues to pour out of my mouth; “The question has more than one answer, depending on what you really mean. I don’t believe that you mean ‘is there a Judge?’ – but let me answer that one first anyway.” We’re both sitting cross-legged and I shift around to face him more directly.

“There’s only one judge that counts, and at the moment of your death your eyes are riveted open to every act and deed you’ve ever done, stripped bare before the completely aware gaze of a conscience that’s more penetrating and aware than you could believe. You are your own worst and best judge, stripping yourself to the core.

“But at the same timeless time you’re also suffused with the very spirit of parental compassion, so your judgment of yourself is an admixture of Severity and Mercy, if you like.” I touch my left shoulder with my thumb held between my first two fingers and draw a line across to my right. “Those are the names of these two Sephiras of the Tree of Life, by the by, translated from ancient Hebrew – I prefer ‘Clarity and Compassion’ myself…” O’Grady nods slowly, trailing afterimages in the gloom while my mouth continues moving and my voicebox keeps vibrating as the venom flares in my foot and spreads into my brain.

“So you are the judge, the best you could ever hope for – who knows thee more intimately than thine own conscience? And from that immortal perspective beyond time – beyond matter and space you’re beyond time as well, beyond time’s well…” The memory of my deaths return in full-blown Technicolor and quintaphonic Dolby; “…you decide whether you’ve created a perfect pattern or not – one that satisfies your expanded esthetic and ethical senses, the heart that balances the feather of truth.” Psychedelic images begin feathering inward from the periphery of my vision and it becomes increasingly difficult to focus. I concentrate on deepening my breath and slowing my pulse as my voice goes on and on;

“But more than that – from the true perspective of immortal Justice, the obvious macrocosmic truth is revealed – the secret of all enlightenment – that everyone is everyone and everything you do to anyone is something literally done to yourself. In that moment of crystal-clear awareness karma is something obvious and ever-present, and the only important thing – the only thing relevant to your blown open mind – is the impressions you’ve made on other beings, the links you have to others.

“And you decide whether you’ve lived life as best you could, or fallen short of your own abilities. You keep coming back until you’ve done it – I don’t want to use the word ‘right’, because of all the polarised connotations, and ‘correct’ is no better – but you decide to return to the Wheel until you’ve done it right by yourself, and all your selves. Then you have a further choice to explore something else entirely, or not.

“You may even decide to come back here again anyway, to help out.

“But if you want the short version,” I ramble on, “you are the Judge, Jury, Prosecutor, Defender, Executioner and Redeemer. Don’t accept any substitutes.” I need water to dilute and process the foreign proteins spilling through my blood, but the oxygen-rich air of the rainforest does nicely at present.

O’Grady nods and strokes his emerging beard, smiling into my blur. He’s a Saracen and a Viking, a Highlander and a Persian. “All right then,” he nods, “do you believe there’s a Creator?”

My hallucinating mind reviews the massed ranks of distant primate people who will cast me into imaginary hellfire or oblivion if my answer is negative – but this translucent vision doesn’t slow my open heart. A deep breath fills my lungs.

“On the one hand I side with the Gnostics – before they were all slaughtered and burned at the stake they insisted that those who purport to be the Creator – like Jehovah, for instance, or Jupiter – are actually demons masquerading as the One True God. But it gets complex – the ancients viewed the planets as gods and goddesses, remember, and many deeds and attributes ascribed to them are referents to planetary events, changes and catastrophes. Incidentally, ‘god’ is a pretty horrendous word for what we’re talking about, don’t you think?”

“I’ve always thought it pretty odd,” he agrees.
“Ugly,” I aver. “The Gnostics pointed out that no compassionate creator would ever do the things described in the old babbling books, and that any entity that did, was an ego-driven demon who should be ignored and driven out at all costs. The Gnostics went a little too far for my taste, claiming the universe itself was an evil cage – I understand their erroneous point of view, but in the long run they were a bit too nihilistic for their own good.” The Ark of the Covenant rears before my inner eye, resplendent and glowing with a blue aura of electrical charge. Before my mouth can wander in that direction my interlocutor intervenes, sparing us both a long digression. “Ah, yes, but – do you believe there’s a Creator?” O’Grady laughs.

“On the other hand,” I begin, “we’re talking about something not constrained by our primate templates of authority and awareness – and if it comes down to a choice between the archetypes of Sky Father and Earth Mother, these days I have to come down on the side of the Mother…” O’Grady laughs again. “I’m with you there, bro. It’s ‘Nungeena’ around here, right?”

“Great memory,” I congratulate him. “You got it the first time.”
“It’s just that where I first became exposed to this stuff, Her name was ‘Pacha Mama’.”

“Of course,” I smile.

“Nungeena,” he repeats as I nod. “But on the third hand,” I say, miming the emergence of another arm from my shoulder, “if you want to know what I really believe…” He leans forward as my voice drops. “How much do you know about, uh dimensional theory? Have you ever seen a hypercube?” O’Grady nods emphatically. “No,” I change my mind, “let’s start at the other end – it’s easier from down there.”

“Okay.” “You know there are an infinite number of points in any line?” I mime the action and a fluorescing trail of dot patterns laces the ground in the darkness while he nods. “And there are an infinite number of lines in any given plane, right?” I inscribe long lines at various angles on a scroll of parchment that appears in the nocturnal air.

The serpent poison is coming on strong and my foot is throbbing, swollen and red, but my monolog keeps me loosely bound to the world; I’m grateful to have an audience in this remote Paradise – and haven’t been condemned to merely sitting here alone and dealing with the poison while listening to all this stuff going around inside my head. I haven’t told him about the black snake yet – don’t want to worry him unduly. She will bruise thy heel…

“Well there are also an infinite number of planes in any solid, right?” I chop paths through an imaginary sphere from various angles, as it hovers between us like a small planetoid. O’Grady agrees. “And there are an infinite number of three-dimensional solids in hyperspace,” I conclude my series, sweeping my arms outward to indicate all the other spheres hovering in an immeasurable array that spreads away from us in all directions. “Virtual worlds from this point perspective, just as our universe is an illusion when viewed from theirs.”

For a moment I glimpse the view from hyperspace, from the fugue-riding perspective of the Crown Chakra, and all the spheres interpenetrate each other at various angles and progressions of mutual absorption – and then my mouth keeps working around the cud of my words.

“So from that heightened perspective, from the view of a consciousness dwelling in hyperspace – not beyond or apart from this world but implicately involved in everything here, as intrinsic as space or time – you could be aware of every sparrow that falls, every leaf on every tree and every thought in every being simultaneously. You could be aware of the flux of all the alternative timelines from a sufficient remove…

“It’s like this,” I continue as I see him attempt to imagine that view. I draw a circle on the ground between us. “From up here you can see everything inside that flat circle simultaneously, right? It’s all visible at once.”


“I see,” he says, and he does.

“Now, on the second last and penultimate hand in this trick deck, there’s another point or two I must make if you want a near-complete answer. There are those who draw a distinction between not only Judge and Creator, but also include an Architect in their triune pantheon…”

“Like the Egyptians with that dwarf character – what was his name?” He hands me a smoke.

“Ptah. Ta, thanks. That’s the one. “Around here he’s known as ‘Puntjal’ – pretty similar, considering. Here we have Nungeena (or Mother Nature, the Holy Spirit, the Holy Breath, the Nephesh) as well as Puntjal, the Architect of the Universe – and there’s also the indwelling Creator who dwells at the crown of your head, whose arms extend down through ours from the Dreaming, the Al Chera, Hyperspace, from the Crown of Creation, to work within the world and worlds. But I won’t speak his name here and now…”

“Fair enough. The Architect – ‘Puntjal’?”

“Perfect.” “So the geometric certainty of an interpenetrating series of interdimensional realities – not just some mathematical theory, but an infinitude of multiverses and a vast range of nesting dimensions – informs us that there must be, at very least, the likelihood of a Witness – a consciousness that is aware of everything in our little circle. Infinity is a pretty big place – infinity implies that anything we can imagine must actually exist somehow, somewhere, somewhen, on every scale…”

“So we have a Judge, an Architect, Mother Nature and a Witness – but what about a Creator?” he persists as I pass the smoke back to him.

“For a start, it’s all a hologram so you are already partaking of all of those forms of Godhood – your consciousness already extrudes into all the other dimensions, but we’re usually untrained to perceive or make use of any of them but the familiar ones that are useful to terrestrial primates. They’re all accessible, if you start young enough or are very fortunate or have enough focus and will power. The truth is, thou art God.” I’m pleased to see he doesn’t rebel at the prospect as a circlet of six-pointed stars surrounds his brow and an etheric topknot extrudes from the crown of his head.


“Now, if you really want to pin me down about a Creator – on the one octopoid tentacle, with an infinity of infinities to ponder, a Creator can’t be rendered impossible – and anything not impossible is not only probable, but likely – or even mandatory…”

“Anything not forbidden is compulsory.”

“Exactemundo, compadre.” And on the last tentacular extremity of all, interdimensional theory well understands how to create universes – we can do it in the lab, here at the dawn of the Third Millennium.”

“We can?”

“We can – I’ll explain how, if you like… do you know anything about Brane theory? M theory? Membrane theory?”

“Is this answering my question about a possible or probable Creator?”

“Okay then – you know how in current understandings of time travel, if you go back in time and kill your grandfather there’s no paradox at all?”

“You don’t snuff yourself out of existence then?”

“No – because when you leave the bubble of this hologram and enter another one, it is another one – times ain’t times and oils ain’t oils.

By entering another time stream the current belief is that you create a new time stream – although I differ on that point; I say that within infinity all virtual realities are equally real, and that the traveler is not a creator but just another vainglorious usurper of the title. These so-called ‘creator gods’ are simply stepping into a pre-existing continuum, not creating a new one at all. We don’t each simply create a new universe with each act of will, as postulated within the imagined constraints ascribed to quantum theory – we shift into a pre-existing virtual co-creation. There are an infinity of them.

“If you can imagine the sort of obsessive personality that wants to go back in time and change history – and not even their own history you understand – they know it’s a parallel history they’re tampering with but want to do it anyway – you’ll understand why a lot of the so-called ‘gods’ of the past have been such primitive control freaks.”


“Third Reichers and the like.”

“Precisely – and in some cases literally. Anyway, it’s all a variation on Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, if you like…”

“That’s where you can’t tell the velocity and trajectory of any subatomic particle at the same time?”

“That’s right – and the implications, as derived by modern physicists, are that the observer creates reality. So we’re all the Creator; manifest reality as we know it is a co-creation, combined from the various point perspectives of innumerable lifeforms in innumerable shapes, with utterly divergent environments and ways of viewing the universe. The manifest world is made by all the intersecting perspectives and wills of us all – and certainly not just those of human beings.

“The more diverse the range of lifeforms in a place, the more enduring the landform itself – and all other factors, like climate for instance. Life changes the odds in favour of itself – the evidence is all there if you take a look, all duly notarized and scientifically notated. Mind and will alter the odds, the flip of the dice, the spin of the electron, the intensity of the Sun, the trajectory of asteroids. You know what the native Americans say – the Web of Life holds it all together and each of us is a strand. “And if mind over matter is real – and it is – then all the other so-called psychic phenomena are equally real and accessible to us all.

“We’re creating it all, all the time. Everything’s an interpenetrating hologram and we’re all points of the same distributed consciousness, of the same – there has to be a better word than ‘oddgod’ – but if you’re looking for a Creator, look in the mirror,” I laugh, drawing a planar pane between us.
We grok. It groks.

“Okay,” he asks as pregnant Molki awakes from her drowsy slumber and leans against him. “What do you think gravity is?”



Step out of the chains binding your mind and life! Your parents and grandparents were happy and satisfied to be lied to by those who still get away with stealing the wealth and knowledge of the Earth (and everywhere else) for themselves – are you?
Turn on. Tune in. Opt OUT! You have nothing to lose but your blinkers. Security is only found within and true abundance comes only to those prepared to give everything away when they no longer need it.
Money is not abundance – it’s a tax on abundance! Why are you reading this? Why are you here? What is it that you need? Why do you need it? Who are you, really?

- R. Ayana

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From http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com.au/2011/04/creator-judge-or-architect-there-is.html

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The World Grid and the Whirled Mind 

...The great sphere of the planet is crisscrossed by lines of force that adhere to the geometry of three dimensions. These shapes simultaneously mirror the patterns of higher order ‘hyperspace’ geometries [see TimeSpace]. Lines of energy follow paths of least resistance – the leyline network recognised and used by antediluvian civilisations, the dragon lines of the Gael and the Orient; the Songlines of nomadic aboriginal people.
The planet flows through a vibrating sea of energy. This bathes us in frequencies and wavelengths that define the courses of energies flowing across and through the Earth. Lines of least resistance form an intricately interconnected series of grids that map hyperspatial geometries onto and into the globe of the planet. They’re the acupuncture meridians of Gaia, and nodal points are strung along them as acupuncture points on the human body. As above, so below.

These nodal points are sacred sites and places of power that can be used for great good or ill. The fortuitous locations and arrangements of most temples and shrines, churches and mosques from antiquity to the present time indicates at least one of two things – 1) that gifted dowsers have always been with us, working at the behest of secretive conspiratorial master architects, and/or 2) that the works of humankind are parts of a greater plan serving the planet and/or other agencies – again, for good or for ill, in terms of the best interests of human beings and the myriad lifeforms that dwell in the wonderfully wild garden of Gaia.

In either case, the sanctuaries of world religions are constructed on primordial bastions of concentrated energy. There are those who know how to use or misuse these sites (and all the trappings of blinded faith – magical implements like altars, chalices, incense, books, bells and candles) in ways and purposes for which they’re intended. Just as the vast majority of people will never read or comprehend these little words, or read this far, almost all those in charge of sacred sites have no idea how to use them. They’re custodians, holding the sites in trust for others – just like all the smiling politicians and stern public servants in the secular world.

Where three or more gather in focus together our wills can combine to accomplish great ends. The whologram is greater than the sum of its parts. The massed and focused energies of congregations of living, breathing, wilful beings can be harnessed to feed the leyline/songline grid with specific patterns of sound, thought, motion and emotion – songs and dances, prayers and hopes that can be used as fuel to heal the world, or to further other agendas. The most cleverly constructed places of worship channel energy into the Earth and unto the sky, and even filter and focus it toward specific ends.

Controlling humankind is the main game around town. Most religions are in charge of edifices designed to subtly influence and control the minds of people in the lands they directly influence. At certain times and in the right hands, the grid network can be induced to resonate with extraordinary power. Sometimes, when the entire system is poised for impending change at times of cosmic confluence, the grid can be used to reset the mind of humankind – and even to alter human nature en masse.

The Magnetic Moment

“No man may know the day of my coming; I come like a thief in the night.” So says a ‘lord’ in the babbling Old Testament. ‘The Day of the Lord’ is the day of destruction, when the Earth is repaved in conflagrations and stars shift to new posts in heaven. At moments like these and at other nodal points in the spiral of timespace, when the magnetic field of the planet shifts and realigns, the entire world can be remade in manifold ways.

Certain places and edifices are finely tuned instruments whose potential can only be fulfilled by master conductors of energy - musicians/magicians prepared to emerge from the wings on cue to wield their baton/wand and remake the illusion of the world, and to repattern the human worldview. Those neophytes and supplicants who randomly pray or silently meditate in ‘spiritual centres’ can only feed psychic batteries that these priests and mages tap and channel.

At times in prehistory a singular consciousness controlled the entire old network of planetary influence from several plexuses at once – an extraordinary being possessed of transdimensional perceptions, who controlled the mass of humankind and instituted the hive-like pyramidal structures that have patterned almost all ‘civilised’ and domesticated human societies unto today. Many of the monuments that channelled this network were ultimately destroyed or submerged beneath the seas in a series of catastrophes that only culminated less than 3,000 years ago, when the ‘terrestrial’ inner planets of the solar system took up their current stations.

Those who inhabit the summit of power at the capstone of the societal pyramid are the very last to countenance change, unless it directly benefits them. Most real or fundamental change brings with it unpredictable and unforseen complications that can only threaten their towers of power. Change is anathema to most control freaks - yet when the magnetic field shifts they have little choice but to go with the flow, and attempt to ensure the next age to come in the wake of that shift will faithfully follow the pattern of their plan.

Nowadays there are several competing centres of power, all poised to attempt to wrest control of the planetary web at the Magnetic Moment, when momentum stops and Mind becomes silent. When everything pauses the code of the world is freed from its tethers and can be rewritten by those in control of the instruments of power. At this point in history the vocalists ready to sing their song are more cacophony than choir, possessed of as many differing agendas as a hydra has heads.

What can emerge from this discord? Will the harp they all attempt to simultaneously strum accidentally strike the right chord – the one that frees us all from their thrall?

To prepare for the Moment, examine and (dis)still your mind. With practice you can learn what it’s like in the moment of change, when the world turns around your silent centre. If enough of us focus on one thing when that time comes, all the plans of puppet masters will be for naught. If enough of us are prepared to dare to dream of paradise for all we can remake the world into something blessed. We can remake the world with dreams we all truly cherish in our combined heart of hearts. We can fulfil human destiny and remake Paradise on Earth.

No doubt all of this is difficult to credit for many or most. Those couched in the comforting illusions of permanence fostered by antiquated and carefully channelled academic and education systems may well ignore these little words entirely. The mindfield of the current paradigm is always self-reinforcing and filters out dangerous ideas, dreams and memories that are automatically proscribed for reasons of social stability.
No confirmation or conformation is required. You are free – and you are god(dess)!

See you in the Magnetic Moment – Happy New Aeon!
by Ram Ayana @ nexusilluminati.blogspot.com.au/search/label/r.%20ayana 

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