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Originally posted by ItsallCrazy
I get the exact same feeling, very strange. Its kinda like every so often (happening more and more recently) you'll look at something or feel something that just isn't 'right' it feels a little surreal or almost as if its a game. (I also get that sometimes certain people almost seem a little programmed)
It's unbelievably hard to explain without sounding mental though..
[edit on 16-2-2009 by ItsallCrazy]
Originally posted by mattifikation
I'm sorry, but that just sounds like a bunch of wishful thinking from lesser three dimensional beings who wish they were something more than that.
We aren't any part of a Type IV civilization. We're not even a Type I civilization. You can approach life one of two ways: You can accept that we have a long way to go, and help work towards that... or you can hide from the truth and immerse yourself in delusions of grandeur, accomplishing absolutely nothing in the meantime.
Your choice.
Originally posted by spellbound
reply to post by theflashor
Hi Flash,
It is a very long movie and I want to go home.
Seriously, if that is the case, why don't we have a few visits home, or even flashbacks?
Of course, Plato went on about all this when he said that there exists somewhere in the universe an 'ideal'.
For example, if you are looking at a table here on earth, the ideal table exists somewhere - and this applies to absolutely everything.
Although I studied Philosophy at University, I have always had trouble with Plato's 'ideals'.
Why can't we live in the ideal?
Originally posted by cathedral
Nice – I think you have come up with the only religion I might become part of
Anyway I get the feeling from the article we are here for entertainment, and that could be
But how about
This could be some kind of prison universe and we are here till we learn to behave
Or
This is school and we are the children of the advanced civilization, here to learn
Originally posted by mattifikation
We aren't any part of a Type IV civilization. We're not even a Type I civilization. You can approach life one of two ways: You can accept that we have a long way to go, and help work towards that... or you can hide from the truth and immerse yourself in delusions of grandeur, accomplishing absolutely nothing in the meantime.
I let my will go then and tumbled forward into elfland. Terence McKenna is apt in calling these entities 'elves'. They are elves/not-elves. They don't appear, they kind of ooze out of the woodwork seductively and before you know it they're there - the whole realm is infested with these creatures like nothing else you could ever imagine. They do sing things that are like 'self-dribbling jeweled basketballs' or whatever you want to call them. They make Faberge egg concoctions with ingredient lists like: 1) space, 2) lust, 3) politics, 4) circus sideshows, 5) time, 6) gall bladders, 7) existential notions of polyfidelity, 8) cucumbers, 9) Beethoven's 5th symphony, 10) the smell of petunias, and so on. This is somewhat of an arbitrary list, but the point is, all my categories of mind fell away because they were being ceaselessly synthesized and re-synthesized into these hyperdimensional objects, undulating, ululating along.
It makes me think of getting home from school when your mother says that she's baked you some treats, only these are like no treats Mom ever made, and when you see them you almost want to say, 'Aw, mom, you shouldn't have. I mean you really shouldn't have'. What you do with these elves is some sort of a game of catch, only the physics of the game has been replaced by the physics of synesthesia. In catching the things they threw, in playing with them, I participated in the ineffable mysteries that they were. This place is the Joycean 'Merry go raum'. Being there I came to understand the Heraclitus fragment: 'The Aeon is a child at play with colored balls'. It is this. As well I understand, 'Still the first day, All Fool's Day, here at the center.' It is this too.
So for what seemed like centuries I played with the trippy freaky elves and they kept bringing me into atrium after atrium in the antics annex, and all I could do was wonder when we would get to their front door. As far as I know, we never did. Instead they said many things, though I can't say they used what we would call a voice to accomplish this communication. I remember only parts of this. At first they said, 'Build this', indicating hyperspace. Later they amended this by saying, 'Build it. He will come.' from the movie Field of Dreams. Very funny.
Originally posted by mattifikation
I'm sorry, but that just sounds like a bunch of wishful thinking from lesser three dimensional beings who wish they were something more than that.
We aren't any part of a Type IV civilization. We're not even a Type I civilization. You can approach life one of two ways: You can accept that we have a long way to go, and help work towards that... or you can hide from the truth and immerse yourself in delusions of grandeur, accomplishing absolutely nothing in the meantime.
Your choice.
Originally posted by Raider of Truth
if death is an illusion why do bodies decompose?
Several weeks later, still processing these two '___' experiences, I had one of the most realistic, vivid dreams I have ever had in my life. Christian Ratsch once described these types of dreams as Kali Dreams, after the Hindu goddess of mayhem and destruction.
In my dream, I was a child again back in middle school, talking to a beautiful young girl, who, in retropect, looked like Parvati, who is the loving, gentle alter-ego of Kali. Her gaze and awareness were piercing, focused, all-seeing, all-knowing and her eyes looked straight into me and gave me a queasy, nervous, glowy feeling, like intense love at first sight. The class bell rang, and she started for the classroom along with all my classmates, who were taking their seats. I had to go the bathroom, though, and I knew the teacher wouldn't mind me being a little late (it was my favorite Spanish teacher, incidently).
Returning from the bathroom, I walked into an empty classroom. The back door was open, though, and sun and breeze were streaming in. It was eerily quiet. I stepped out the back door to find the bodies of my classmates strewn all over the lawn, bloody, dead. Only a couple were still alive, catatonic, carefully loading the bodies into a sport-utility. I stood there in shock, watching the scene, trying to figure out what had happened, when I realized I was being watched.
It was her, the beautiful girl, Parvati/Kali. She looked at me with the slightest of smiles, wide eyes, arms and palms turned out towards me, presenting the entire scene to me. With that gaze, I instantly realized she had done this, she did it as a lesson for me, she was trying to show me how beautiful death can be, she killed these children to teach me and to teach them the beauty and value of both life and death. She freed them, she let them go, she returned them to the eternal all-pervasive universal consciousness. It was a gift, her gift, her eternal timeless lesson to us, to not hold on so tightly to such a precious gift as life and overlook the precious gift that is death.
With this realization and her gentle loving gaze, I was overcome with an overwhelming sense of peace, beauty, joy, despite my natural instincts of terror and revolt. The scene and the lesson before me was absolutely sacred and necessary. Kali had visited me. I opened my eyes and found myself wide awake in bed remembering clearly every vivid detail.