They're Baaa-aaaaack!
The demons are back again.
But as I look at those words on this cyberpage, I cannot help but see the programs inherent even in that single sentence. To call them demons is to relegate them to some nether-realm of imagined evil, replete with gargoyles and denizens of the night. To say they are "back again" implies that they went away, but it would be far more accurate to say that I had succeeded for a short time in ignoring them, dissipating their energy, failing to heed their siren call.
What are the demons? Impossible to say in a single word. Foolhardy to try to wrap reason around the irrational. So I simply observe and record and record and observe, and somewhere in the equation the actual experience of the demons occurs. Demons. Hmmm. Shitty word, but what else does one call those things which rattle our foundation and disturb our comfort zones?
There is a pervading sadness at times - a warrior's melancholy, as DJM called it. Orlando has referred to it as a chill which falls upon the spirit from time to time, and may linger like midwinter's frost. We tell ourselves things are unfolding as they should, as they must, and all that other yada which we come to accept, but there is something inside of me that observes all of these machinations of life and death and dying and living, and deep inside - far deeper, beyond the layers of The Program - there is simply a Knowing that goes soul-deep, which says, "This is the way things are, but is that truth because it really IS truth, or is it true because that is the program to which we have agreed - the consensus matrix, six billion strong, which is like a heavy gravity pulling everything into its own mass in the same way a black hole sucks in even the light.
"The matrix is flawed," the voice of gnosis whispers as I sit with Wendy at a local restaurant, eating lunch in what would appear to be the most normal of settings, the most natural thing in all the worlds to be doing on a Tuesday afternoon of no special significance.
These words come as no surprise to me. I have known for well over 20 years now just how flawed the matrix really is. We accept the unacceptable. We tolerate the intolerable. We do the absurd because everyone else is doing it. And we go to bed at night and tell ourselves it'll all make sense in the end.
Will it?
I'm not so sure. I stand outside the box and observe sometimes, feeling rather like a spectator sitting on an iceberg watching Titanic sink. The chaos. The fear. And the sublime insanity of the band still playing while the waters are rising.
Are we any different?
Whether we work for ourselves or someone else, most of us get up in the morning, put on the trappings of our profession, and trudge off to the salt mines to procure ore which may be traded for bread and shelter. And yet, the band is still playing out there somewhere, and the waters are rising, but we find that comfort zone of distraction where the demons can't find us for awhile. Maybe it's tv or family or friends or the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels, but we find ways to convince ourselves that the sun will rise tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and in our false sense of immortality, we fail to recognize that we are generating our own mortality through the very process of ignoring it.
So I sit there over lunch, telling Wendy about these equations that sometimes run through my head like so much live feed from a ticker. Though *seen* as numbers and letters (algebra - the bain of my 8th grade life), there is an accompanying Knowing that what I am actually *seeing* is the "fix-it" code which would repair that aofrementioned flaw in the matrix. Yeah, yeah, tell me I'm full of shit, or pass it off to ego or self-aggrandizement, but I tell you this, folks: it's right there in front of us. I'm not special. Anyone who chooses to face those demons can *see* it, too - and maybe someone out there would have a better understanding of the equation than I do.
What ARE the equations? Impossible to translate, for they are often strings of formulae with hundreds of integers. What do they MEAN? In essence, if I had to translate the purpose of the equation into humanform words, I would simply say that it is an equation of consciousness, and it is attempting to show us how to turn sideways from this world of the matrix, into the higher awareness of the full power & potential of our spirit. It is the equation of don Juan's "burning with the fire from within," and yet it is a great deal more than that, too. It is the equation for the assemblage point of our individual singularity - the "how-to" manual downloaded in the universal language of math.
...but I am not a mathematician, and so I can only intuit at the quantum level what is being shown, and open myself to those taunting demons which continue to insist: "There is a flaw in the matrix which has trapped the collective unconsccious in the heavy gravity of its misperceived mortality, and by virtue of BE-ING in the trap, that is the reality which is then created, manifested, and maintained."
The equation, then, is the key to unlocking the door to freedom, and the frustrating thing is knowing that I am not the first person to *see* these equations. Wendy reminds me as we sit there sipping diet coke in a setting that is so utterly cmmonplace, that Philip K. Dick was also haunted with similar visions - a Knowing that went beyond information, and was delivered nightly to Phil in the form of dreams, visions and letters from his own personal demons.
Those demons again. Telling us that the 54" plasma tv can't save us, no matter how pleasant and comforting its flickering blue glow. Those demons again. Reminding us that time is a humanfoirm construct which is slowly but inevitably digesting our organic form, that the winkles on the mirror are hatchmarks on the belt of Time, and day by day we are losing the battle with our first and best advisor: death himself. Those demons... whispering their siren-call of possibility, shattering all those old comfort zones, wherein we could tell ourselves that we are already immortal or already enlightened or already beyond the reach of death. Yet when we are brutally honest with ourselves, when the equations have stripped away all the fluff and flutter and reduced everything to simple math, when we are standing stark face to face with the mirror of time and the clarity of a raven's eye, we see that the oldest truth still remains true: all things exist within the realm of possibility, but only some things will be forced to go through the motions of actually occurring.
If we do not open the door, we remain in stasis. If we do not face the demons, they go away, leaving us to our apple pie ala mode and our cheerful hobbies and our dutiful distractions; and though we might tell ourselves we have simply "grown up" and accepted the way things are, I cannot help but think that those are the words Death puts in our mouth from the time we are old enough to understand. The program incarnate. "It's just the way things are." Yeah - says who, and why would we believe it?
Philip K. Dick wrote his equations and his visions as short stories and novels. Jim Morrison wrote his as music. Rumi expressed his as poetry.
And they are all dead now.
The equation is not a metaphor, but a quantifiable and actionable solution. I don't even think it's necessary to fully "grok" the math itself - for the thing about universal languages is that they are most likely hard-wired into our very being in the same way fear of fire is hard-wired into our instincts.
So I look at the world and see the code in the same way Neo saw the code of the matrix. It is the programs which hold us prisoners to our belief systems. And it is the demons of spiritual discomfort which have the power to free us from those programs.
On the outskirts of farmland along the I-99 in central California, there is a shabby pink motel which looks out over a massie almond grove. This time of year, the white blossoms are heavy on the trees, and fall like snow in the cool morning breezes. Such a vision of dichotomy, that shabby old motel and that expansive grove where a man on a tractor moves up and down the rows, tending to whatever it is one tends to with petals shedding and bees buzzing and traffic racing up and down that well-worn highway, going nowhere, coming from nowhere, cycling like the seasons.
That moment was perfect somehow. Eternal. And yet... as Roy Batty said at the end of Bladerunner, "...all these things will be lost, like tears in the rain."
Perhaps not surprisingly, words written by Philip K. Dick, who also saw the demons and railed at the programs and struggled with his own equations until the day he died.
Life goes on, of course. I got up this morning, took the dogs out for a walk, dressed and showered and landed in front of the computer because that is my habit, my comfort zone. But the demons are still out there, still whispering their equations, reminders that the world is nothing like we have been taught to believe.
The Joshua trees are blooming heavily. Snow clings to the mountains in the distance.
Somewhere in the coding is the door. Somewhere in the self, the door opens.
Somewhere in the program is the Knowledge to shatter the program itself.
All material in this blog (essays, rants, images, poetry, et al) is copyright © by Della Van Hise, and may not be reprinted elsewhere without the prior written permission of the author. Quantum ShamanTM is a trademark of QuantumShaman.ComTM and reserves all rights to this material. This includes all print and electronic media, including other blogs