Temple of Australia

The Temple of Australia

The Temple of Australia (or Federation Pavilion) is situated in Centennial Park, Sydney. It is a magical structure built over a number of subterranean streams. The domed temple was designed to house the nation’s foundation stone, which was consecrated on January 1st 1901 - inaugurating a nation of federated states independent of Great Britain (legal deficiencies notwithstanding). 

A hole in the centre of the dome allows rain to fall directly onto the sacred prismatic octagonal stone, which is enclosed within a marble twelve pointed star. Water collects in a high moat around the rim, reflecting rippling light into the interior.

The early Grecian-style temple is surrounded by a large stone circle. The interior of the dome is lined with glass panels depicting a rainbow on one side facing a man on the other. He walks through an landscape of concentric red ochre circles and has words ‘faith’, ‘hope’ and ‘charity’ emlazoned upon his brow and body. 

The edifice was built in 1988, on the bicentenary of colonisation. 

The nation’s first Poet Laureate read an ode on the occasion of the nation’s foundation, which included a phrase he referred to as the seminal issue facing the country; 

“Mammon or Millennial Eden” (The worship of money OR paradise for thousands of years).

This phrase is inscribed around the monument, writ in tall letters carved into monumental stone. 

Choose.

- R. Ayana

Image – author’s @ https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3899/14522420767_d2bc7240e1_o.jpg (click to enlarge)

Eve Vocation

 

Evocation

A paradise of perfect love is all we feel we need
To dwell among the elven groves outliving human greed
The love of life creating all the rapture that we see
The blessing of the joy of love that’s joining she and he

Some drive their fear through treasured Earth and scarcely give a pause
While those who sow the seeds of change blow tempests on our shores
Yet those who keep their hearts attuned and minds aligned with will
Can feel the songs of peace and love reverberating still


Evoe, guide your Adam well, he knows only what you tell, wisdom’s not to hoard or sell, o
Heal him with thy ancient spell, o
Heal her with thy sacred spell
Heal us with thy ancient spell, o
Heal them with thy sacred spell

And you dance your way while I dance mine
As life’s lush mystery is growing on the vine


Beyond the veil of loneliness that lures us to our doom
In peace and joy we roll aside the stone that seals the tomb
Release the heart of crystal from that weather beaten chest
That burns the soul like blazing coal wherever love has left

She hears the dreams of all who hope and deign to plant a seed
And blesses those who fan its flame with thought and word and deed
Her children feel the selfsame want and burn with selfsame need
To join with one another and for love to be their creed


Evoe, guide your Adam well, he knows only what you tell, only love can keep us well, o
Heal him with thy ancient spell, o
Heal her with thy sacred spell
Heal us with thy ancient spell, o
Heal them with thy sacred spell

So you dance your way while I sing mine
All life’s long mystery is mortal and divine


Beyond the handmade towers ever reaching for the sky
Beyond the treasured beauty of entrancing lover's eye
Beyond the schemes of human beings, beyond a mother's sigh
A dragon wakes from ancient dreams to dance with you and I 


Evoe, guide your Adam well, he knows only what you tell, only love can keep us well, o
Heal him with thy ancient spell, o
Heal her with thy sacred spell
Heal us with thy ancient spell, o
Heal them with thy sacred spell

So you dance your way while I sing mine
All life’s long mystery is mortal and divine

lyric by R. Ayana

For more by R. Ayana see http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/r.%20ayana
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Time Shift: The Virtual Lattice Matrix and the Music of Spheres

Time Shift

The Virtual Lattice Matrix and the Music of Spheres 

Time and space shift and warp throughout the cosmos. Their structures follow the underlying delineaments of a virtual matrix, a universal fractal fluid hologram that continuously and instantly resonates with all of its constituent parts in a perpetual flow, always in formation.

The virtual lattice matrix can be visualised as the transmission medium of light. Light does not travel as waves or particles from an emitter; rather, the lattice is vibrated by information emitted from hyperspace. This in-formation generates and carries the local ‘light’ signal through the four dimensional medium of timespace just as waves are transmitted through water molecules (or any other compressible fluid). A field of water molecules all affect each other as they are all effectively adjacent and in contact, their vibrations and movements inextricably interlinked with the entire puddle or ocean that surrounds them. Within the ‘zero point’ virtual field all potential particles are packed solid and ‘empty space’ is chock full of vibrations.

Timespace is filled with virtual vortices – nebulous ‘vorticles’ of twisting timespace, not discrete particles – in a fluid crystal ‘luminiferous aether’. This is the zero-point field. The underlying information field’s transmission frequency within 4D realms (light speed) varies from location to location according to the energy density of the surrounding timespace lattice. The ’speed of light’ is not a fixed value, but varies according to the density of ‘matter’ or energy field through which it propagates.

The local frequency of timespace – and the local propagation speed of light – is determined by the spin rate (and relative diameters) of the vorticles themselves as they are compressed or expanded via the local field density, which is ultimately derived from hyperspatial fields. Light as we perceive it manifests only at the surface of material bodies, where standing waves interrupt and transduce a perpetual flow of multidimensional forms in formation.

Information is continually travelling throughout the cosmos at superluminal speeds but can only be physically viewed or measured using a yardstick made from local material. Light manifests to this yardstick at a specific frequency relative to its own density and that of the field which contains it, whether planetary, stellar or galactic. This yardstick will vary in length depending upon whether we are within the overarching fields of planet Earth, of another planet with differing field density, within the Sun’s atmosphere (the solar bubble which extends far beyond the orbit of Neptune/Pluto) or in interstellar timespace. The relative speed of light varies constantly, as do rates of time in relation to each other across the length and breadth of the lattice fabric.

This is one reason why attempts to date the age of the universe are nonsensical; another is that the relative rate of time flow obviously continually alters as the universe evolves (during periods of rapid expansion for instance) and as timespace infolds and unfolds. Time is another yardstick that varies according to local conditions.

Information only manifests as light at the frequency range at which it can locally appear, within a vast spectrum of other possibilities. At differing frequency and amplitude ranges the same information pouring through hyperspace will unfold as different ‘particles’, such as electrons, in the material realm. The particular form of information’s appearance will be determined by standing waves which ultimately emanate from hyperspatial realms.

This will not be obvious to a viewer within any given local medium; one’s viewpoint and surrounds will always determine the local light speed as being relatively fixed and constant, as any information about an event or field strength outside the local field density will be seen through its occluding lens – and only apprehended at the ‘natural’ speed of light.

Orbital calculations within a solar system will not be substantially affected, except concerning objects passing from one planetary field into another; small differences in local time rates will then be observable as unexpected variations in trajectory and orbital velocity (as viewed from the originating planet). This makes accurate plotting of planetary missions using ballistic technology (rockets) more difficult than would otherwise be supposed – witness the huge number of plotting failures which resulted in all the earliest probes to the Moon and Mars missing the mark entirely, a tally of failures that continued until the true figures for orbital insertion were fudged through a laborious process of trial and error.

The Martian Mariner probe anomalies (whereby the orbital periods of Mars orbiters unaccountably shifted when they first entered the local field of Mars) are explained by the differing local timespace field of matter – at this harmonic band of the overarching standing wave of the Sun, whose nodes beat between our local star and the distant boundary of its heliosphere. This standing wave pattern defines the interval notes of a vibrant chord. It determines where Mars manifests from hyperspace as a discrete planetary body and determines the orbits and characteristics of all other bodies under the direct influence of the Sun.

Photons – the 1926 name for massless relativistic particles – do not exist. Massless information does exist – but not travelling at ‘light speed’. Information travelling though the matrix does so instantaneously, from its own perspective. As it reaches a standing wave (boundary condition) it slows through hyperspatial rotation to local light speed and can then be apprehended as ‘light’ or ‘energy’ by the ’substance’ it interacts with.

 
Vorticles appear to spin. Mass is manifested when vortexial structures appear from the matrix, slowed by a factor of local light speed and rotated into being by the presence of a standing wave to ‘create’ matter (in-phase rotating fields). Stroboscopic oscillations between nodes of these interlaced fields make up our material substance – ‘protons’, ‘electrons’, ‘neutrons’ – which are all really interlacing wave patterns, creating vorticles which oscillate in and out of phase with their surrounds.

In-phase fields produce apparent, regular 3D structures constructed of spinning vorticles of zero point aether. All of these transient or persistent shapes which underlie the apparent patterns of atoms can be inscribed within a sphere; a sphere is the geometrical inverse of a vortex. Those formations of vorticles which are internally symmetrical manifest as stable standing waves – matter. Others flip back into the infinite sea of potential, rotating back through other realms and dimensions.
 
Oscillating 3D structures with insufficient internal symmetry (parity) appear charged. Those which are internally symmetrical appear neutral. There are only five internally symmetrical solids but other non-Pythagorean arrangements also come into play in the manifestation of matter. The only possible arrangement that a sufficiently complex cluster of spinning vorticles or spheres can take without ‘grinding gears’ is located at the fourteen points of a virtual cube-octahedron – an arrangement that automatically arises from the underlying virtual tetrahedron field of timespace.

Rotations of potential (hyperspatial) fields through three dimensions at 45 degree angles stabilise 8-beat structures – cubes and octahedrons, which are the geometric inverse of each other. 36 degree rotations produce dodecahedrons ands icosahedrons, another pair of geometrical complements.

All 14 vorticles in a dodecahedron or cube-octahedron (a cube interlaced though an octahedron; see Contructing Reality) are aligned around a common field centre. The dodecahedron’s 12 faces are centred on the 12 vertices of a truncated cube-octahedron. This perfect ’shot pattern’ – the optimal arrangement for spherical storage – includes an inner 13th sphere, or vorticle. A corresponding 13^th vorticle – an ‘electron’ – orbits the dodecahedral proton (basic hydrogen).

When stripped of their orbiting vorticle, dodecahedra lose parity and cohesion, and within a packed vorticle field they commonly form hydrogen plasma. Their 13th & 14th (inner & orbiting) vorticles rotate perpendicularly to the polar field alignment facets (vectors derived from the primacy of spin) and manifest in situ as two of the fourteen vorticles that turn together in a mutually reinforcing circuit to form a neutron.

The interlacing of parity (in the cube-octahedral formation) and charge (in the dodecahedral formation) manifest material structures as they oscillate around the ‘ideal’ 13-sphere shot pattern of the truncated cube-octahedron. The dodecahedral pole of this standing wave pattern is the ‘proton’ and the cube-octahedral pole is the ‘neutron’.

The vorticles are all aligned to the centre of their virtual dodecahedral and cube-octahedral structures by virtue of simple geometrical constraints. The vorticles that comprise these shapes continuously flash from one arrangement to the other, forming interlaced protons and neutrons that are the nodes of a standing wave – matter. This affects the spins of all in-phase surrounding structures; thus matter is a self-referencing standing wave locked into the holographic medium of one local in-phase universe among infinitude parallel realms, all perpetually spinning into, through, and out of each other in a multiverse of probabilities.

‘Electron flow’ – electricity – is another product of vorticle resonance; the transmission of information through a multidimensional fractal fluid hologram interfacing with resonating 4D standing waves. Magnetism is an effect of vorticle resonance on surrounding timespace flow – another artefact of symmetrical structures manifesting as alignments within an aether field.

These alignments also produce ‘gravity’ (See Magic Net). Virtual particles continually wink in and out of local existence. Within material fields – matter – it’s far easier for a virtual vorticle to manifest within a stable geometrical arrangement of other vortices and remain in the local timespace field. A vorticle is induced by simple geometrical constraints to move towards the greatest aggregation of other vorticles and find a stable place to occupy within their structure. Each potential vorticle is drawn into being and pulled through field-lines of progressively increasing interlacing as the common strongest local field centre is approached.

Virtual particles are continually manifesting and disappearing in our reality as adjacent realities twist through each other. Progressively more dense elements manifest more ‘matter’ within themselves than lighter elements or surrounding ‘space’ does. 

Gravity is a simple consequence of geometrical interactions that make it easier for energy/matter to condense from the aether in places where interlaced arrangements of atoms already exist – where ‘energy’ or ‘matter’ exists.

This explains the observation that the planet Earth is expanding at a rate of about an inch a year, and alters all premillennial conceptions of stellar formation and evolution. The interwoven harmonies of vibrating spheres at microcosmic and macrocosmic levels are the matrix of ‘reality’.

God doesn’t play dice. She plays music.

- R. Ayana 2003

Thanks to T.B. Pawlicki

For more TimeSpace Elucidations see

Infinity and Beyond - Hyperspace in Your Life
http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/2011/01/infinity-and-beyond-hyperspace-in-your.html

Holographic Multiverse

http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/2011/02/holographic-multiverse.html

Time Shift - The Virtual Lattice Matrix

http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/2010/08/time-shift-virtual-lattice-matrix-and.html

Constructing Reality

http://newilluminati.blog-city.com/constructing_reality.htm

Magic Net: How to Make Matter

http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/2010/01/magic-net-how-to-make-matter.html

Time As a Lens - Self Referencing Nonlocal Awareness

http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/2010/06/time-as-lens-speculations-on-self.html

Images – author’s

Reality is Malleable: Unpredictable Effects of High Strangeness

 - click to enlarge -

Reality is Malleable

Unpredictable Effects of High Strangeness

Every lifetime contains a multiplicity of mysteries. Every being is a universe unto themselves, unique among a multitude of others. Babies are immortal enlightened beings borne into primitive worlds that shape their destinies to particular utilitarian ends. 

Yet even while we tread routine routes through various versions of barbaric semi-civilisation, the moment of wonder is never far away. Everything is possible and anything is probable. Your worldview is an acculturated comfort zone in an unchartable sea, a shared dream demarking the boundaries of wider, wilder realms.

To witness highly strange events that conflict with the orderly fabrications of consensus reality can be an utterly transforming experience for some; others will swiftly forget anything that can’t easily be assimilated into the worldview they’ve been trained to see as fixed and controllable from birth. Mysteries and consciousness possess inbuilt filter systems.

When the unexpected arrives an instinct for self preservation kicks in. This emotionally charged reaction may take many forms, but one of the most common is denial; an attempt to mentally camouflage one’s self, and return to the accustomed fold of the human pack.

Yet some react differently, forever transformed by the exaltation of challenging sights and bizarre happenings. An illustration:

The old Cold War of the last millennium seemed immutably eternal to the brainwashed throngs on both sides of the ‘Iron Curtain’. It was inconceivable that the whole enduring fiasco could simply fold up and finish without ending in a flaming Armageddon that would destroy all or most life on planet Earth. And yet, against all odds, the miraculous happened, leaving everyone in situ to clean up the mess we’d made of history.

It didn’t seem possible in an age of backyard nuclear bunkers on a polarised schizophrenic planet. Right up until the walls and curtains fell on the final act of absurd lunacy – after the widely forgotten Harmonic Convergence of August 1987 (planted exactly half way betwixt the February 1962 alignment that heralded the Dawn of the Age of Aquarius and its birthing on December 21^st 2102) – the world could always end tomorrow in a series of blinding flashes.

Alternative communities sprouted and flourished throughout the lands, far from the toxic sumps and likely targets of urban confabulations. Flower child hippies and redneck survivalists vied for choice spots in farflung valleys and hidden hinterlands. Multitudes marched through city streets in peaceable defiance against The Man behind the curtains and his juggernaut death machines. They protested against megamurders that enriched a small venal coterie of militant industrialists- men with megalomania complexes as drearily dire as Stalin’s, or Nixon’s, or the Marquis de Sade’s. Everything you could buy or sell, save your soul and will, was theirs, ripped from mendacious mines and industrial farms – rents in the flesh of Great Mother Nature, whose immortal soul was trussed up with barbed wire fences and sold for illusory pottage.

An imaginary Sword of Damocles was suspended over everyone’s heads, threatening extinction for all – unless the wage serfs knuckled down, put their noses to the grindstone and stopped rocking the titanic boat. The threat of nuclear Armageddon was a death-trip form of hypnotic control for modernised slaves, just as potent as the previous universal religious fantasias of heaven and hell. After a struggle between control freaks and rebellious slaves that had lasted thousands of bloodcurdling years, a climax was surely approaching.

In nineteen hundred and seventy five, at the height of the ultra-profitable threatening nuclear coldness ’twixt East and West, this mellowing her(m)etic hermit was a much younger shaman who lived near the throbbing heart of the Emerald City of Oz, and worked and played in a huge sandstone edifice known as Stanley Palmer’s Culture Palace.

The setting for this alternative institution was a deconsecrated Presbyterian church constructed from large amber hued sandstone blocks that had been excavated from a defaced nearby cliff a century before, which had long been abandoned by its congregation. The hallowed and hollowed gutted interior still featured a monstrous functional pipe organ, a rosewood choir loft that served as a coffee shop, and a matching pulpit with carven balustrades and a wooden canopy, all housed beneath lofty wood beams exposed by a dismantled ceiling. A tall row of arched windows cast ample light on the artistry and craftiness that abounded within its eclectic confines during the bygone hippy heyday.

This young shaman taught film and video production, photography, darkroom techniques and other artistic pursuits to anyone interested who passed through the old church’s colonnaded entryway, and constructed and operated a cinema in a disused chamber at the building’s rear. Other instructors taught printing, silk screening, pottery, drama, tai chi, yoga, music, meditation, painting and a plethora of other subjects to gifted and appreciated youngsters and oldsters alike. All the courses were absolutely free; in those days all tertiary education was free and open to all in the Great Southern Land by decree of its greatest Prime Monster, the White Lamb who would be sacrificed on the altar of foreign dominion before the year was out.

The main building of the Culture Palace was divided into halves by a thirty foot high Masonite wall which helped soundproof the stage that stood before the pulpit, bereft of its altar – an appropriate venue for all manner of performances. Harold Pinter and Shakespeare vied for time and space with rock bands and folk combos, lecturers and yogis. And every Sunday evening for a few brief years, this young shaman hosted the Future Shock Show – operating lights, sound and recording equipment from the pulpit while all manner of performers strutted the stage below.

The entry charge was fixed at a dollar, but anyone without that amount of money (which could still buy a substantial meal of spaghetti Bolognese at a nearby establishment called the Hole in the Wall, a round of cappuccinos in the nearby Little Italy espresso belt, or a huge, real, solid pre-Mac hamburger) could watch the show for the price of a donation, or failing that for nothing at all. Overheads came to just ten dollars a show and all remaining proceeds were split by the performers.

We cadged boxes of outdated paper from nearby printers and published posters and handbills that were stuck and distributed about the nearby inner urban suburbs. The demographic mix was different in those days; most nearby dwellings were occupied by hard-bitten dock workers and the destitute, or those who were definitely down and out. More than five hundred emptied houses in the immediate area were occupied by squatters during the recession that followed the OPEC ‘oil crisis’.

A gifted poet and musician known as Li Po helped set up and operate every Future Shock show, and a small band of helpers handed out invitations to all and sundry each morning and noon at populous markets and the nearby Domain. In those days this historic public park opposite the monolithic façade of the city’s main public art gallery was a popular local version of London’s famous Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. Religious proselytisers rubbed shoulders with anarchists, communists, socialists and fascists, and all competed for the public’s attention with varying degrees of oratorical skill. Every weekend the greensward was filled with speakers and listeners, bordered by stalls and stands of all kinds.

We’d distribute hand printed handbills until none were left, then make our way back afoot to Stanley Palmer’s Culture Palace to prepare the evening show. One sunny Sunday, while Webster and John Sword and a host of other locally famous orators entertained the throng from stepladders and soapboxes, Li Po chanced to hand an invite to an intense young bearded fellow who introduced himself as John Walsh and asked if he could perform that night.

“I’m a trancemedium musician,” the softly spoken, long haired man declared. “I go into trance and play music – but I don’t know how to play.”

“Sure,” I said, bemusedly curious. “There’s still a spot available.” Early that night he arrived with a plethora of instruments and proceeded to arrange them around the edges of the stage. “I don’t know which one the spirits will want to play,” he explained. Trumpet and trombone, tabla and djembe, harmonium and flute, guitar and mandolin graced the margins of the performance space along with sundry other instruments while John prepared himself, entering a trance state in his dressing room in the empty cinema.

The mesmerised hippy emerged onstage in a voluminous kaftan, lifted an electric guitar and immediately began to play heavenly arpeggios and enthralling glissandos. For the next hour he moved from instrument to instrument in a spaced state of grace. Unearthly music rang from stone walls and marble memorial stones, reverberating through the dumbfounded audience who sat stunned at this display of unconscious – or possessed – virtuosity.

Whether in trance or truly channelling the music of gifted spirits, there was no denying the extraordinary result. John Walsh returned to the stage the next Sunday, and the one after that, rapidly befriending the Stanley Palmer’s crew and the musician Li Po in particular. From close and regular observation it soon became apparent that John couldn’t play a note unless he wasn’t present in his body.

He worked with a few trance medium colleagues, some of whom also played instruments while others chanted in tongues, and a few weekends later they all assembled onstage at the Culture Palace. I decided it would be a good idea to record the occasion for posterity on a high fidelity four-track reel to reel recorder.

The audience didn’t know what to expect. Assembled before their expectant, bored or distracted eyes was a humdrum looking bunch of middle aged people dressed in normal street clothes – except for John Walsh, barefoot at centre stage in a white Indian cotton shirt and loose flared trousers. All stood with unfocused eyes staring above the heads of the audience, whose expectant faces were on a level with the floor of the raised stage.

I watched from the pulpit and started the recorder while John picked up a trumpet. Two men who stood behind him began humming a wordless mantra while another sat and stroked a drumskin with elongated fingernails. John raised the trumpet to his lips and produced a single clear note as the hummers started chanting in a language that closely resembled ancient Hebrew.

The music and chant slowly rose in volume and intensity as I adjusted the gain on the tape deck, and slipped a large pair of headphones over my ears to monitor the recording. At first the music resembled the unpredictable jazz fusion of the semifamous freeform local band ‘Free Kata’, before it shifted upscale into uncharted realms of discord and resonance.

After a few minutes of weirdly harmonious cacophony John started bellowing through the trumpet like a singing, screaming pachyderm, as if possessed by the great Hindu god Ganesh. He trumpeted a blast that ascended from mellow depths into dizzying heights, slipping back down the scale after an extending pause at the gates of heaven. A crackling sound filled the headphones and the music started cutting out in a repetitive patterns so I glanced down at the equipment to see what was wrong.

The meter was swinging into the red zone at the end of the dial each time John hit his highest note, and stayed there as long as he held it. I fiddled with knobs to no avail – the sound disappeared from the ’phones every time the frequency rose to a frenzied pitch. Then I noticed what was happening to the quarter-inch magnetic tape – it was rising out of the recording heads each time the sound cut out, and hovering there, free of the mechanism for as long as John Walsh held a high note, before dropping back inside the machine as he lowered the pitch and volume.


I frowned at the tape, certain the equipment must be faulty and ruing the fact that tonight’s performance would go unrecorded. And then I chanced to glance down at the audience. They were all sitting in their pews with identically stunned expressions; mouths agape, immobile and wide eyed, with heads nodding up and down in time with John Walsh’s stentorious pealing. The witnesses all seemed way beyond mere absorption in the performance; they looked like a school of nodding fish in a stark state of shock. So I turned to see what they were staring at and finally saw what was happening onstage.

Each time the tape rose from the recording heads and the sound cut out in the headphones John was raising the trumpet and bellowing his highest, clearest note to the heavens while the chanting swelled to a climax – and as long as he held that single note his feet hovered a few inches above the wooden planks of the sturdy stage floor.

As long as he held that note he levitated in plain view of dozens of people whose eyes were on the same level as his feet. No trick. No hypnosis. No wires or magnets held him aloft – except for the magnetic charge of John’s channelled music while his whitened eyeballs rolled back in their sockets.

We all watched the miracle unfold before our rapt gazes – as dumfounded as any who saw a man walk on water or a woman give birth to an elephant. He kept it up, and up, for several minutes and all of that time none of the spellbound witnesses moved, nor uttered a word.

Part of my mind was berating me for not having bothered to pull one of the Culture Palace’s video cameras out of the storeroom while I watched in awestruck delight, while another fraction assured me that the tape would have acted just like the sound gear’s and failed to record the extraordinary event.

John’s trumpeting notes slowly fell in volume and he settled back onto the boards for the last time. No-one applauded as he and his friends all shuffled from the stage, still lost to this world in their trance states. I watched the audience shake themselves from frozen concentration and followed them out as they silently filed through the partition toward the reassuring mundane world of coffee, tea and biscuits. Li Po’s eyes were flaming coals when I passed him onstage. He left for the dressing room without a word while I followed the audience into the other half of the deconsecrated kirk.

I hovered about, watching and listening to their varied reactions. A quarter left the building immediately, rapidly making for the safety of the sane dingy streets outside. A thirtyish woman sat at a potter’s wheel and echoed my own reaction to a handful of friends, “This changes everything! After this my whole life’s different – nothing can ever be the same again!” Others stood about with gleaming eyes shining amidst enraptured expressions, while others grumbled and shook their heads.

“It’s just a trick!” one man loudly proclaimed as he strode from the hall. “My god!” another cried, and cried into his teacup. “See what?” a young Christian said to his enraptured girlfriend. “I didn’t see anything.”

Many who saw it soon forgot as they re-entered the treadmill of getting and losing, buying and selling, grasping and loosing. Within a few months only a handful of people could actually recall the event they had witnessed one bygone Sunday night. And John Walsh? He never knew what he’d achieved until Li Po informed him backstage in the dressing room after the performance. The miracle worker had been lost to the world, off in a trance state all the while and didn’t remember a thing.
‘Seeing is believing’ to many or most – for some the revelation lasts but a while and for others forever, perchance.

The sturdy ramparts of a handful of materialistic worldviews collapsed like houses of cards overnight. Nothing we’d been taught was true, and everything was suddenly permissible. If just one person can fly, then everyone can – and if one can fly, then all the other ‘psychic powers’ are doubtless equally available to everyone, if we can only find the route within…

Whole populations find it surprisingly easy to ignore the bleeding obvious fact that the emperor wears no clothes. Unimaginable madnesses of the domesticated primate li(f)e are simply ignored, or mistaken for some kind of natural order by those who’ve known nothing else throughout short meagre lives spent in workaday chasms and blinding chiasms.

The world is truly a magical place, a gorgeous wet jewel miraculously preserved amid the frozen fires of eternity; an unfolding phantasmagoria of wonder and miracles – priceless pearls strewn before competing tribes of domesticated primate boors, who trash living paradise all around in a relentless quest for mere fictitious pie in the sky.

Myriad miracles of daily life are particularly evident way out here in the wild growing forest, where the muddy hands and fixated minds of enumerating people have still barely tainted some special places. When the endlessly chattering monkey mind is finally stilled and all eyes are opened, fabulous strangeness begins to appear and multiply with every new day.
Look up, look in, around and about. Even – especially – in the darkest hour, the moment of wonder is never far away…

A True Story

By R. Ayana

Images – author’s

For more by R. Ayana see http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/r.%20ayana

and hermetic.blog.com

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Manifestation Manifesto: Creating the World With Sublime Intent

Manifestation Manifesto

Creating the World With Sublime Intent

If we create reality with our wilful perceptions, how can we make a better Creation?

Keeping up with the mind expanding ideas, inventions and new millennial paradigms of physics and philosophy is a challenging pastime. We’re blessed and cursed to dwell in this amazingly interesting time, approaching a singular moment in humankind’s destiny. Some fresh discoveries and revelations directly involve us all. Perhaps you’re familiar with the idea that mind shapes the substrate of matter – that the manifest world is ultimately formed by mindstuff and thought.

It’s not a new concept. Despite constant dickering over the relevance of the quantum realm to the familiar world of our senses, this notion is now a generally accepted truism of the postmodern age, backed by innumerable studies. Plenty of evidence exists for the reality of psychic abilities in humans, but this far more personally challenging truth has yet to gain quite as much mainstream familiarity and acceptance.

Decades of experimentation delving into the effects of mind over matter have proven the case for psychic abilities in humans (and animals) beyond a shadow of doubt, regardless of the nature of damn lying statistics. Telekinesis has been satisfactorily demonstrated and scrutinised on numerous occasions, as have telepathy and precognition. (See Rupert Sheldrake, Reality is Malleable and the articles @ http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/psi ).

Many new proto-Illuminists take the low road, believing The Secret is that you can simply get whatever material object or person you want for your personal pleasure whenever you can harness your powers of manifestation. But the real secret is that if you wish for money or material things you’re doomed to ultimate mediocrity and dumbed-down cocooning. The best things in life are free; the Golden Touch was not a blessing for King Midas, but a curse.

In bygone and future eras – when psychic abilities are fully recognised – certain facts are well known. If one exploits any psychic abilities that arise as byproducts of achieving specific levels of focus and awareness, progression to deeper and higher levels is automatically blocked. Paths to higher consciousness are filtered by built-in safeguards. Clear motives and compassionate intent yield more fruit than indomitable will.

The implications associated with the reality of ‘mind over matter’ have long been known and exploited by various religious or other occult groups through the ages. The easiest matter to influence from a distance is living matter, and less focused minds have always been regarded as prey by control freaks of all stripes.

We are all connected; the same consciousness peering through several billion sets of eyes. The manifest world is shaped and maintained by collective consciousness. As Cliff High of the website Half Past Human has asserted, if individual human beings are latently (or actually) gifted with psychic abilities then the collective mass of humankind is likely to prove far more accurate in such fields as precognition and remote viewing.

The Global EGG Network operating out of Princeton has repeatedly demonstrated not only that humans affect random number generators, but that a great tide of similar alterations in the nature of chaos occurs around globally charged events – notably including 9/11 and the assassination of Princess Diana. But the reality and implicate power of the noosphere (nouse sphere or collective consciousness) is a concept that’s still taking root in the global mind, evolving as a microcosm of and template for our progressing evolution.

Groups including Transcendental Meditation have claimed that collective meditation directly and noticeably alters the collective and the manifest world. It’s further claimed that harnessing just the square root of one percent of any population will suffice to create a more harmonious society, as shown by sizeably lowered crime rates during periods of massed focused concentration – see http://www.alltm.org/pages/crime-arrested.html . Experiments begun in the 1980s with group meditation linking the heart chakra to the Sun have shown marked correlations with reduced sunspot activity.

There can be no doubt of the incontrovertible fact that mind – your mind – can and does effect changes in the manifest universe, at the very least. Are you aware of the programs running through your mind? Are your thoughts truly your own? Superstition can be defined as believing in things you don’t understand. What is truth, and how can you truly know the truth, rather than merely have faith in something you’ve been trained to believe? That’s what it takes to be a free being; relentlessly honest self examination and keen observation of everything inside and around you.

If you want to do the right thing it helps to know what the right thing actually is – otherwise you might mistakenly contribute your energy to toxic moneymaking scams like religious institutions or supposedly positive ‘good causes’ like poisonous universal vaccination, illusory cancer and AIDS ‘research’ or other ultra-profitable dead ends, instead of doing something worthwhile. After all, if consciousness creates reality, then the easiest reality to directly affect and alter is one’s own physical body and well being. Your health is in your hands (as is the healing touch, or the nourishing light of Reiki) – and it’s all in the mind. Make it so.

The most worthwhile task of all is the Great Work – enlightenment – and as bodhisattvas all aver, no one being can be fully enlightened unless every one can be enlightened.

 
Whenever great changes for good or ill have occurred in the human condition they’ve usually been spearheaded by a surprisingly small number of people. Humankind exists at a wide range of ages and abilities, with a vast variety of beliefs, habits, attitudes and differing cultural norms. Any small group pulling and pushing or simply guiding in a single direction will often nudge the rest into action, or at least acquiescence, and propel them onto the desired path.

Changing the world (for better of worse) doesn’t require a conscious effort by everyone; perhaps only as little as the square root of one percent of the world’s population will suffice – say the square root of seventy million, or ‘only’ 8,367 people (rounded up).

Until recently anyone who attempted to link up with likeminded beings faced manifold obstacles – twinned tyrannies of distance and time zones, culture and religion, and class/caste and race – which all served as filters and brakes on communication and cooperation. The forerunners of new paradigms have always comprised a tiny minority. Long before the internet and rapid means of communication, each community boasted farsighted individuals who were viewed by their peers as eccentric, at best.

Spreading ideas and joining with likeminded people was a relatively laborious (and more censored and potentially dangerous) task compared to using the freed instantaneous media we experience now. Networking has never been easier, socially or otherwise. We’re all individuals pursuing various dreams and aspirations. Some light workers illuminate the web with images, while others use music, stories, articles or videos to spread their messages across the unmediated true mass medium of our new conscious collective.

Some still bypass the net and directly affect the web of consciousness with guided visualisation, mass meditation or prayer.

The planet has always been a shared global mind comprised of the dreams and perceptions of an amazing variety of life forms. The web of life has many strands; no-one can be certain which are absolutely essential to the continuation of life. All our ecosystems as well as the very landform itself are maintained by the wilful wishes of an exceptionally diverse range of entities, including the obvious animal denizens of our shared world. We can only save ourselves by maintaining a flourishing diversity of lifeforms.  

 
Humankind is but one of the strands in the web of life yet we currently leverage all others, inhabiting the spotlight-blinded centre stage in this collective theatrical display. We have essential parts to play in collective destiny.

Now that we’ve become a global village the internet is evolving into a prefrontal lobe of Gaia. We’re all neurons in the new world chaos of interlinked minds, creating more than just ideas with the connexions and links and citations we create. Focused consciousness alters the world itself, and the easiest parts of the world to shift are those which are already moving; animate and alive beings, including humans.

If your aid to the planetary ecosystem and your fellow beings is limited (by responsibilities or current capabilities) to the work you enact by caring and sharing world-healing ideas online, your precious time and concentration has not been used in vain.

Yet if you’re serious about bringing positive changes into the world, enacting your beliefs to build something truly beneficial or to save something precious may be mandatory if you’re to look your self in the eye. Some imperative changes on Planet Earth require bods on the ground, or under the canopy, or in bright orange inflatable boats, to act in front-line delaying actions while the collective gets its act together.

Enlightenment is the Great Work. It requires no material input. On a material level the most honourable work available to humankind today is the continual protection and ongoing restoration of the habitats we and our ancestors have so thoughtlessly destroyed. This is the best way to ensure a healthy, happy future for ourselves, the other species with which we share the planet and all who come after us. This is the noblest calling of all for those whose work isn’t limited to virtual acts of virtue, or lighting a torch in the cave of the skull.

Environmental action holds paramount place amid the plethora of causes clamouring for our attention. No charitable cause intended to solely benefit humans can ever be more deserving. It takes far more than a thousand years to regrow a healthy thousand year old tree; you need a healthy forest around it first. Legislation to protect the Earth moves much more slowly than a chainsaw or harpoon, and real protection requires sensitive souls on the ground (or in a vessel). Helping the world is helping yourself to a better future.

It’s impossible to really know reality unless one experiences the natural world firsthand. Living in entirely artificial constructs like cities and towns is a fantasy existence where nothing a person can see or hear or touch or smell is natural, or even real. Almost every apparently natural rock or tree has been set in place by human hands, and everything is a construct of the human mind – thoughts literally made concrete. Urban dwellers experience an existence that occurs entirely inside the human mind.

The real world awaits, and it’s far more forgiving and accepting than most human societies. If you’re in a position free enough to strike out and experience the planet beyond ‘civilisation’ you’re part of the small minority the planet is crying out to for direct aid. Saving something real and good is a great way to save your self. Every action brings many reactions that occur on a multitude of levels. The natural world is the best place to learn to listen to the inner voice and follow the inner light.

Moving out of the constant whirl of society is a weaning process that can’t be taken lightly. Leaving constant distraction behind can be difficult – almost as difficult as facing all the inner turmoil we avoid by continual distraction. There is nothing more challenging for modern urban dwellers than learning to quiet the chattering mind and experiencing real peace.

Most are taught to put off living the lives they truly want to lead until ‘later’, but tomorrow never comes for those who wait to pursue their dreams until they’re tired and worn out. By the time humans have matured – by around thirty, when endless urban entertainment begins to pall – it’s high time to strike out and leave waiting behind. It’s also a great time to begin planting food trees and forests, while you can still eventually experience savouring the fruits of your labour. It’s never too early to leave the hive behind, or to examine your mind, or to experience the things that make living worthwhile. 

Meanwhile, there’s always time to dream, to know, to hope and help.

Dreaming the world into paradise is fun – and a far more fun ride than any of the alternatives. Dare to dream of paradise for all and we can still all end up there together – here, living the lives we’ve chosen on a blessed, beautiful jewel of a planet in a gloriously wondrous universe.

- by R. Ayana

P.S. – plenty of room out here in the bush – and plenty of restoration and regeneration of damaged paradisiacal ecosystems that need your help. And please share this!

From http://hermetic.blog.com/2011/05/31/manifestation-manifesto-creating-the-world-with-sublime-intent/

See 'Transcendental Meditation Experiment Arrests Crime' @ http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/2011/06/transcendental-meditation-experiment.html

Images – author’s

For more by R. Ayana see http://nexusilluminati.blogspot.com/search/label/r.%20ayana

and hermetic.blog.com

You can help this invalid artist continue by giving enough for a meal or drink if you're able -    

Donate any amount and receive at least one New Illuminati eBook!