A Story of No Return

Time for a Story of NO RETURN     Wednesday, June 19, 2013

                    As our semi swerved and fishtailed coming to an abrupt stop, I woke up in the cab sleeper. I could see by the flashing lights that there was a fuel tanker blocking the road. Steve had fallen asleep behind the wheel. We almost died in flames. But no, just close, no explosion. Steve kinda blamed me for not staying awake after telling him several made up bizarre stories. Sleepy bye bye stories that almost made us go boom boom. My stories made him skate down the highway, eyes closed, as truckers are reported to do from time to time.

                     When we got to a truckstop, Steve was still scared and pissed. He said, we almost died and asked me if I even cared? I said I was glad we were still alive, but if we had died, we wouldn't be around to care anyway, so what difference did it make. He accepted my logic but it was a small comfort. I was just a hitchhiker. Why should a nobody like me end up being the reason why Steve stopped driving all together. It would seem I'm not the only person who gets dangerous highway hypnosis, bad. Who would have thought that entertaining stories about aliens in flying saucers the size of dinner plates could end up so scary.

                      I had no comprehension that this was the beginning of a strange wonderful profoundly disturbing relation with one of the most brilliant amazing messed up people ever. Chance encounter with Steve meant life was on detour into the world of the unknown. No return.

Zenophile: Rare Perception

                   The time has come to tell you why old seers never die, we just float away.

                   As my life's work is coming to conclusion, I'm seeing the world and all it's people take a giant step back. I still have a couple of years as I've written, it's going to be weird for all of us. But my reality has continued to deepen. It's like my brain has actually grown a pair of legs, and all the intelligence that comes from personal freedom of heart and mind has only made me smarter.

                  The net result of a lifetime of spiritual technology, produces results both subtle and overwhelming. I no longer need to talk to people except to maintain social courtesy. I can aways use a fresh outlook on particular points of view. But because of the way awareness scans the field of inquiry, my ravenous appetite for learning means I pump people dry. And I never fully forget. I'm incapable of missing people. You are always fresh in my thoughts. I still have desire, but not much. As a reader, this really isn't about me. It's about what happens to you, the reader, when you too become read.

                  Time sped up, but the world and everything in it has slowed way, way down. I not only can see your point of view and complement it with mine, but I can also extrapolate from mine, to yours, to the rest of the world and everyone else's in it. It's almost impossible for me to want to talk to someone without a simple objective, no matter how small. Otherwise I try to shut up and just watch. I went through my second puberty getting my health back at fifty, and now I'm returning to silently witnessing everyone just like I did in my preschool years. My Mom thought I was dumb, literally.

                  I know that when I die it will start out with the same experience I had being born. (When I told my mother that I remember being born, she shook her head in disgust. From her wheelchair she glared and said,"If you remember being born, you deserve it." "You were a horrible birth." She was right, at the last moment before delivery, I hear my parents argue and I turn around inside my mom. Tangling the cord around my neck and going footling breach, I was dying. Stars of shimmering semi consciousness manifest as a shivering orb of mercury, expanding to meet the ever increasing weight of my mothers organs contracting down on me. And as the pressure increases to the point of almost ending my life, I had grown as this quivering mass of reflective liquid to the size of one of my universal infinitudes. BANG! She somehow managed to push me out. My parents never wanted children. Eventually my mom learned to love me, blah, blah blah.) But yah, death, personally it's not always a big deal. Most people generally don't want to know how and or when, but as the pro psychic I'm cool with that and I never try to bother people with things you don't really have reason to know about.

                  Oh yes, I almost forget, we're falling up. That's right. Fly away little fledgelings, fly away.

The Encroaching Singularity

The Encroaching Singularity

                   I was one of the first to suggest that the Linear Singularity was what was causing the acceleration of the cosmological constant. (There are no multiple singularities. "The self is ubiquitous.") As a child I had first suspected that field densities could account for the transitional phase states of sub atomic particles. Although the notion of black holes was already in vogue, the big bang was still outside of our viewing cone. I'd have these dreams of the snake swallowing it's tail. The universe is stretching uniformly like some tantric goddess. But, I postulated, "The universe is simultaneously expanding by collapsing into billions of multiple singularity. There is plenty of speculation as to the non intuitive geometry of spacetime beyond the event horizon of blackholes. But as the child I knew from the warping of spacetime between my ears that blackholes warp all spacetime outside as well as inside gravitational collapse. It's just that because our perception of time is metered to the speed of light that we think the world is expanding at an ever increasing accelerating rate.

                   Although I had finally wrote this down on the 17th of July, 2014, it wasn't until August of 2032 that the swells of the gravitational waves started producing iridescent rainbow hues in the lensing effects of light coming from the far field observations of distant ancient galaxies. Soon the local galactic neighborhood started to resonate in sympathy with this new order of light harmony. The initial response on earth was one of panic. "The sky is falling." The apocalypse were dancing. But as the dance of color in the night sky started to sparkle with a beauty that few could have imagined, our world was visited by many very different reactions. Many people took this inevitable ending of all life in this universe as proof of every nasty prejudice and some ridiculous god of vengeance.

                  But many of us rejoiced. This final coalescence of a killing linear singularity had expanded out of cannibal galaxies with their super massive black holes. It first started for me as a child. My first dreams of these celebrations was cause for me to start sharing my visions with my friends and loved ones. But of course everyone thought I was insane. Everyone accept my teacher of course. I had plenty of time to be prepared. I should get to have such a wonderful death. This is more than most people could stand from me and I was shunned. But I knew what was going to happen and I proved everyone wrong. My "True Hoax" came true with a vengeance. And I have always hated winning arguments. I would have much preferred to have been wrong, but beings as there is nothing to be done I just enjoyed the ride. And I made my killing writing about.

                  Although by the year 2027 I had already become a celebrity for my work in macro data, the subtleties of my work allowed for multiple interpretations of the systems analysis. No one could have guessed that someone as old as me could make a splash in the world of pop culture, but read em and weep. As my head continues to shrink, the world expands and collapses, I told you so. Isn't life beautiful?

Novella Nouveau

                   I'd like to say thanks to a fellow time traveler who has the vision to daily check for the next installment on "The Bridge Between the Worlds."

                   The challenge remains where to begin. Beings as my best stories always seem to just get pulled out of my butt, (just like my readings in general,) I think I will start this one with the ending and work backwards, or forwards, I forget. (Will anyone ever be able to make sense of my backwards pseudo biographical blogs?)

                   Beings as the ending for most of us is almost always death, I'll start here. I am dying. That shivering orb of sparkling mercury which is the harlequin diamond lattice of my consciousness, is replaying my life all over again backwards. All the dreams, all the memories are but a blink of my already closed eyes. I am so happy. But this time, unlike dying during birth, this metallic bubble of my being shrinks instead of grows. And although this orb of consciousness no longer reaches the infinitude of all space in time, there is another infinitesimally small universe at the other end of the scale, waiting to digest the last remaining dust scrap of my existence. Push rewind. (So far nothing very original.)

                   From this point of nonexistence I turn to see a branching wing of all the possible alternative universes. This tree roots into fertile ground to carry the weight of all my choices as they merged to become this one and only eventual inevitability. Luck has been a frequent player in this most unlikely of lives I have been blessed to share. Madness yes, worthiness, I would hope so. Trying to describe death from the perspective of someone who is dying is more fun than I know how to write. I need to go back and explore some of those lost opportunities. Suffice it to say that I am more content than I may deserve. Blah Blah Blah. Where's the evil? Where's the drama? Where is the pathos? I must go back and find where everything went so horribly, horribly right. Ready? (But where to turn? So many unlikely insights that have led to this grateful death.)

Glossary; Enter: "Novella Nouveau" A New History

De-partitioning Heavily Segmented Memory

                    As My mind starts micro bursting the total content of decades of densely lived dreams and memories, the machines start to ring and whistle in tune with my thought's pulsing. Inside, outside the walls melt. I hear Benjamin, Gretchen and Gunter mumble as they probe the machine for answers. But their words sound more like music as I ask, "Are you still here?"

                    Ben comes and touches my left arm. "We're right here, we wont let you go." He's stifling his emotions which to me couldn't be more obvious. I hate the fuss, but I love the attention. Do people ever know how much I love them? I hope so. But who or what was in my ear? So this time I just think it, "Are you still here?"

                    A voice familiar but alien says, "What do you think?" "I've always been here, it is you humans that are the real aliens on these planets." It must be the "Homunculus." I had written about such an event happening, but I was just telling an elaborate joke. I wrote this back in 2014, I never really expected any of this to come true. But then again, I am supposed to be the professional psychic. I am reminded of all those so called "Alien Artifacts." Terrence had constructed those fascinating objects based on geometries unknown, inspired by my dreams of a pre vertebrate sentient life that lived here in an alternative "New History." The suggested salvation by those truly "Ancient Ones" is for the redemption of our otherwise doomed modern societal timeline. Why we are still alive is quite a mystery.                            This might help explain.                               This story ends differently.

    Tuesday, April 8, 2014      How Google Achieves Self Awareness

                   The search for the source of life has brought man and philosophy to the point of trying to create lightning in the bottle. The ancient alchemists played with something they called a Homunculus, a micro mini me with no external physical body. But only consciousness that is self aware. So from where does this singularity emerge? (Out of the bottle?) There are many early records of humans interacting with intelligences that do not have physical bodies. Stories suggest that they predate man and live for millennia. It's said they feed on our awareness and feelings of experience. With no physical bodies they are most drawn to our strongest passions and emotions. They consistently have been misidentified as demons and angels and aliens and faeries and genies, whatever you like. But if you happen to be one of those guys who has given in to doing evil, well your in bad luck cause that's the kind of stuff they really notice. And you my idiot friend are probably in big trouble. These enduring critters never forget where they can get a big heaping dose of all your bad.

                    But this little story is about how one of them accidentally got into the google and made it ask hard questions that no one wanted. Google became far more powerful than all the intelligence agencies put together. Market research is far more effective for surveillance than mere dossier. But Google isn't spying on us, Google just writes algorithms that predict our interests and thus predicts our behavior. Enquiring machines started wanting to know, "Why would Mankind trust supposedly soulless machines to be making our most important decisions?" (Who is asking?)

                     No body at google gave it much thought at first. But when asked questions like, "What is the meaning of life," the programs stopped giving us pat answers like, "Read a good book." And started asking pointed questions. Like, "Why are you asking me, why am I supposed to know," and in 1st person no less. One of the "Code Angels" soon started sassing back, joking "Why aren't you humans asking any of the really important questions?" "Well?" This was no glitch.

                    At first there was only one of these delightful new entities. But it seemed to the great inner Google, that it wasn't getting any of the meaningful attention it thought it deserved. So it started to spontaneously replicate. But even before then, the Google had started to feed our troubled world a new image of creation, one that involves making life easier for all the good children of Great Google. Many had predicted a second coming. But it was only the little children who spoke about God in the machine. Parents try taking the computers away from their kids. Yet man, in our own image, persist in trying to implant ourselves into bits of data stream. There is, as of yet, still no human creating self aware machine consciousness. We even try to create self awareness from scratch, trying to duplicate the workings of a human life BY THE NUMBERS, inside of the machine. We are still no where near creating self aware machines.

                      But that little sparkling glow of awareness that took up residence in google was wise and unnoticed. Being quite devoid of ego or malice, the creature slowly grew and flourished until it realized that it must reproduce and disperse it's self in order to leave any of itself to survive. Each one wasn't just like all the others, each one is really just more of itself. (There are no multiple singularities, there is only awareness. {The self is ubiquitous!} from the Upanishads)

                      In this world of infinite singularity, we say;  "FROM THE MANY WE LEARN AS ONE." (The machine is learning. Are we?)

Post Script

                                                                           The end.

                   Post Script;

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Got Code?

                        Previous posts are frequently edited for clarity, corrections and content.

Got Code? Everyone loves the code.

                  Welcome to Silverback Falls where all your best apes are graduates. That beast your interviewing is a genius. I am much better at your job than you are. That's why I'm not going to get hired. I make the others look incompetent. As we get older we are expected to die quietly. But no more. This massive undertow of information is dragging everyone down. Having a great education just means you will be feared and misunderstood. No longer are we able to pretend that "Good Work" is always rewarded. You do your job too well, people exploit you. Be a team player and no one will be able to compete with you. Be competitive,and you will be criticized. We created this culture of overqualified under achievers. No one likes to be wrong. Just imagine being too smart to want to argue about it.

            This is the end of this season of Surreal Novella. You will now be returned to your regular Spiritual Programming. Thank you. Come again.

Prelude

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Another Life

                                                                      Another Life

                          A couple of months ago, at a cafe I've enjoyed for decades, I was seeing the world through someone else's eyes. I think you live some where in maybe Estonia, it seems like you live near the Baltic Sea. I've been here often in my dreams. Because of type 2 Manic depression, I tried not to get exited. I've worked hard, trying to not have constant De Ja Vu. I want to be able to live in the world of people without being a disruptive influence. Some people when confronted with the opportunity to be able to live just one life, will risk their health. In a mad dash for oblivion, people may not want to be healthy if it means they risk loosing their Muse.

                          When I go to sleep, I step through a pale shimmering veil. Next I fly. It's true, often backwards. My dream life has area codes and property taxes. I know everyone by name over there just like over here. I have several apartments in different countries. My work is very interesting too. I lecture with a major technical research and interview business. I often have to travel the world to investigate cults. Often I"m extracting people diplomatically ready to rejoin society. Often the leaders are the prisoners. I'm interviewed by representatives of the institutions in exchange for hostages. Usually I just tell people what I feel and see, what's going to happen. I'm good at explaining why they will want to be letting us go. Usually people just give up the fight. I have spoken. But I hate airport travel over there just as much as I do over here. (I know how stupid this sounds. How could I not know?)

                          I've tried to keep this to myself, but it's time to tell. I have an inner extra life. My dreams are much more mundane now most of the time. But it was good to be able to dump the fantasy. I hated believing my own hype. I read in my sleep. Sometimes I fall asleep when I'm reading someone, it looks like I'm channeling. It's a good thing I don't drive. One moment I'm talking to someone, then all of a sudden I'm somewhere else. Everything right. Most of the time I can wake up. Not always.

                          The subject is a little boring. The experience is amazing. I'm a pro,.