I have some travel in about a week, and then Nick has some travel the week after that to see his family for Xmas (too expensive for us both to go both places), so I’m hoping the civil war or whatever doesn’t start til January lmaoooo.  Frankly I’m surprised that even I can worry that there would be enough of an established “other side” for that to even happen…I keep thinking everyone will wake up to the real enemy, or at least an inkling of it, and decide to just chill and reframe.

And maybe that’s still in the realm of possibility?  Or maybe it’s a thing like Seth describes, in I forget which of his numerous amazing books (channeled by Jane Roberts) — maybe The Nature of Personal Reality? — where I vibrationally select my journey.  So there’s a January future where everyone collectively says, “Huh — you know, this is starting to seem like a lot of funny business, all things considered.  Certainly enough for me to question the all-encompassing ‘mushroom farm’ sensation of this narrative.”

And if I keep myself in high enough spirits and hold a space for everyone to knock my socks off, I can jump my train onto those tracks and experience that outcome — the outcome where everyone everywhere demands that things make sense, if they’re going to be mandated, and if they’re mandated but don’t make sense, then everyone just ignores it.  No armed rebellion; no march on Washington; no letters to congress — just a simple, utter, collective refusal to continue doing shit which does not make sense.  Businesses simply open.  People go in and shop there, without masks.  Americans leave their homes, whenever they please, for however long, and go about their lives.  Parties, gatherings, concerts, live performances, tours resume.  Churches are packed, bars are packed, new romances, or at least flings, bloom.  Schools are filled with normal kids sitting at normal desks and their parents are off working their normal jobs.  It doesn’t need to be dramatic.  It can be like waking up from a dream.  We can actually choose sanity.  There has never been a more dramatic example of a time when we all and each have the power to choose sanity.  No one has to give us permission.  It’s hard to turn over an engine that hasn’t been run in a while, obviously, but cycle the glow plugs enough times on that ole gal and she’ll start.

There is no greater flex than to render an antagonist simply…irrelevant.

And you know, the key maneuver required to do so is a type of inner Emancipation Proclamation, the basic sentiment of which is: No more threats.  Either come over here and kill me or leave me alone.

And then certainly there are several other January futures, involving more of an Emasculation Proclamation — the darkest timeline: eye patches and mechanical right arms.  Or as Laura Eisenhower put it, not comedically, “becoming a hive mind hybrid cyborg.”

I have several major sensations around all of this.  The first is that physical reality is merging, inexorably, with spiritual reality, whether we like it or not.  Numerous channeled beings apprised us this would occur, for decades now.  It’s real.  It’s here.  The good thing is, the simultaneity of our two reality states (temporal and eternal) was never intended to be fully suppressed, so this mergence is not only necessary but long overdue.

Imagine becoming frightened of the “villain” in the school play, to the point where he says “boo” and you jump.  How ridiculous.  That’s how ridiculous this all is.  Not because the villain doesn’t have the power to hurt our character IN THE PLAY, on the gymnasium stage, but because no matter how crazy we are about community theater — it’s community theater.

So what I mean about a mergence between our temporal and eternal realities is that, good bad or ugly, we can no longer avoid our own sneaking suspicion that this is allllll one hell of a school play.  Like, if I was in the audience of this play, and the curtains closed and the lights came up, I would clap in a confused but marveling manner, assuming I’ll understand more as I ponder it on my drive home.

The mergence of spiritual aspects with our physical reality means that those who aren’t ready for it, who haven’t been cultivating themselves on that level, will lean harder into their roles, because to experience the awareness of the role you play as you play it is the consciousness maneuver required to wake you up.  So the opposite of that consciousness maneuver is simple: to diminish yourself to the increasingly cardboard cutout confines of your role.  So, in a spiritual mergence like what’s going on now, the same roles we’re accustomed to playing begin to feel like shrinking shoes.  I could swear this shoe wasn’t rubbing me the other day!  Our souls would obviously prefer to expand.  So, yes, it becomes work, actual work, to stay small enough to remain unconscious.

Luckily, a lot of people are willing to do that work lol.  I’m not.  Even if I wanted to, I can’t mistake school plays for reality, and people with felt hats for real pirates.

The other sensation I have around all this is: this must be what it’s like to have schizophrenia, but large scale, and I think intentionally created.  Here is what the internet says about the experience of schizophrenia:

Normally, when we describe our experiences to one another, we assume there’s a shared understanding of what it feels like to think and to perceive the world with our senses. We expect that we can talk about what we’re thinking—without having to describe the ways in which our brains connect different pieces of sensory information and memory to make a thought.  In someone with schizophrenia, the most basic processes of perceiving and thinking are affected by the illness.

And I don’t think I’m saying anything that unusual here, when you think about it for even a second.  Marketing started off as a mechanism that competed for our money, but now it competes for our attention, period.  And simultaneously, everything that wasn’t originally marketing — became marketing.  Not to go off on a tangent, but no one understands this better than an ethical vegan.  Every single verbal/rhetorical reflex, coming out of everyone’s mouth, got there in the first place through: marketing.  Not science, but marketing masquerading as science.  Not common sense, but marketing masquerading as common sense.  Not traditional or paleontological wisdom, but marketing masquerading as traditional or paleontological wisdom.

So science became marketing.  Politics became marketing.  Race became marketing.  Justice became marketing.  Diet became marketing, and certainly fitness became marketing, to the detriment of the shape of everyone’s ass.

So we seem to be having some national argument or misunderstanding, right now, about the obvious fact that the news media + big tech combined climate has become…marketing.  The most confusing part about it, to me, is why that’s confusing to anyone.  I mean: look at it.  For fuck’s sake.  Have you ever seen anyone market harder for anything in your life?  Well, the skeptic would say (and how funny that now, in Backwards Land, self-described skeptics are the most gullible people around): come on, you conspiracy theorist!  No one could get all these different journalists and media news outlets and tech platforms to tell the exact same lie, that’s ridiculous.

OH IS IT.  Again — I don’t think I have to spell it out here — any ethical vegan knows good and well: getting everyone to tell the same lie is not only possible but probable, when it comes to certain things.  Things like making sure the individual, natural conscience gets buried, and stays buried, in an avalanche of marketing.  It’s one thing to convince you to buy a product; it’s another thing entirely to convince you there is no product! There is no choice — this is just reality!  That’s some psy-op shit right there.

But, here’s where the schizophrenic-feeling element comes in.  Our instincts for truth are actually really good, for the most part.  We can all tell when we’re dealing with someone who is dishonest.  I’m not even talking about one specific lie, I mean the whole ass person is dishonest.  You just don’t find yourself believing, like, anything they say.  Your primary response to their stories and anecdotes is, “Huh.  Wow.”

We naturally gravitate to people we trust, because hanging out with them feels cohesive, logical, organic, solid; whereas hanging out with dishonest people feels squishy, confusing, like watching a poorly thought out movie.  We know to distance ourselves from dishonest people, whether their dishonesty stands to injure us or not.  It’s just a disorienting feeling.

But what if we couldn’t distance ourselves from them, because everyone else was dishonest too?  How many times would we have that disoriented reaction before we decided — maybe something’s just wrong with me?  We are die-hard socially oriented animals.  It doesn’t take much to convince us we need to surrender whatever weird reaction we’re having so we can rejoin the pack.  And in this case, rejoining the pack would feel, large scale, exactly as that single dishonest person feels on the small scale: squishy, confusing, like a poorly thought out movie.

My point is, no matter how effectively we are manipulated or gaslit, it can’t ever feel the way integrity feels, the way truth feels.  The faux choice right now, is: either believe this crazy shit OR ELSE you’re the crazy one. And you’ll suffer those consequences.  Most of us aren’t up for that so we stay subscribed.  And the narrative just kind of rolls along, like an acid trip, and we try to ignore the parts that don’t make sense because we don’t feel we can afford to break off from the herd, right now.  The (false) stakes have been made to feel too high.

Jeez, there are so many fantasy and sci-fi shows about this.  Some little barbarian enclave, where everyone is stupid and brutal and mean-spirited, and the main character would break off on their own but they’ve been threatened, all their lives, with what lies beyond the horizon.  ‘That’s the end of the world, over there,’ right?  Or, ‘There are monsters over there that will eat you!’  Or, whatever, some big threat.  And invariably the main character does venture over there after all, or is exiled there, or gets lost in a blizzard and ends up over there, whatever, and turns out it’s totally great, and full of people that aren’t crazy, shitty, and stupid.

It will always feel schizophrenic to fight reality.  In fact, I think it’s the fight with reality that results in the sensation of schizophrenia.  So what does it mean that our entire country — fuck, for all I know the whole world — feels that way right now?

It means marketing.  Obviously.

Okay, homies, I gotta peace out and haul my dad to the precious metals exchange in Hilo!!  Fiats gonna fiat, as they say lmao.