Friday, July 07, 2006

Planet of Lost Children (Part One)

But between you and me they were really dupes of the Wicked King
Who wanted to rob the children of their dreams - T Bone Burnett

When I was a young boy, before I could have a hand in my room's decoration, there was a strange piece of art hanging on the wall opposite my bed. It was a copper-like bas relief, about a foot high, of a stereotypical Chinese labourer, grinning in mid stride. When the door was open, I couldn't see it from my bed.

I thought about it a lot. I wondered whether, behind the door and out of sight, he was still striking the same pose. I began to imagine another life for him, and other purposes. I thought, when I would leave a messy room and return to find it tidy, it must have been the man on the wall picking up after me. (When I shared the theory with my mother she was understandably annoyed that I hadn't first considered that it might be her.)

Now the thing is, on at least one afternoon, while I lay on my bed, I saw this figure as a life-sized man, step out from behind the door and stare at me. (He waved.) And I accepted this, since I'd already imagined more for him, and he seemed kindly enough. And of course, I was just a child.

I hadn't thought of this for many years, because like so many wonders it just didn't fit, and it didn't do anything for me now. But then I thought about tulpas, "imaginary friends" and the naturally altered states of children, and how they have always been regarded as totems of strong magic. And at last it did something.

Explorer and initiate Alexandra David-Neel introduced to the West the Lamaist practice of thought-form creation in her book Magic and Mystery in Tibet. She writes, regarding her own efforts at tulpa creation:

Besides having had few opportunities of seeing thought-forms, my habitual incredulity led me to make experiments for myself, and my efforts were attended with some success. In order to avoid being influenced by the forms of the lamaist deities, which I saw daily around me in paintings and images, I chose for my experiment a most insignificant character: a Monk, short and fat, of an innocent and jolly type.

I shut myself in tsams and proceeded to perform the prescribed concentration of thought and other rites. After a few months the phantom Monk was formed. His form grew gradually fixed and lifelike looking. He became a kind of guest, living in my apartment. I then broke my seclusion and started for a tour, with my servants and tents.

The Monk included himself in the party. Though I lived in the open, riding on horseback for miles each day, the illusion persisted. I saw the fat tulpa; now and then it was not necessary for me to think of him to make him appear. The phantom performed various actions of the kind that are natural to travelers and that I had not commanded. For instance, he walked, stopped, looked around him. The illusion was mostly visual, but sometimes I felt as if a robe was lightly rubbing against me, and once a hand seemed to touch my shoulder.

The features which I had imagined, when building my phantom, gradually underwent a change. The fat, chubby-cheeked fellow grew leaner, his face assumed a vaguely mocking, sly, malignant look. He became more troublesome and bold. In brief, he escaped my control. Once, a herdsman who brought me a present of butter saw the tulpa in my tent and took it for a living lama.

I ought to have let the phenomenon follow its course, but the presence of that unwanted companion began to prove trying to my nerves; it turned into a "day-nightmare". Moreover, I was beginning to plan my journey to Lhasa and needed a quiet brain devoid of other preoccupations, so I decided to dissolve the phantom. I succeeded, but only after six months of hard struggle. My mind-creature was tenacious of life.

(Also, and mentioned previously here, Philip K Dick talks about tulpas and Disneyland, and a supposed ghost in Greenwich Village resembled "the Shadow," the fictional creation of the deceased author whose house it "haunted.")

Now, with respect to imaginary friends, on "Baby Center's Ask the Experts" a mother writes:

"My four year old has an imaginery friend called Cheeney who is 16 and lives in England (apparently). Strange seeing we live in New Zealand i.e. the other side of the world. Sometimes what she comes out with scares me too, but mostly I just put it down to an active imagination, and she certainly has that! Sometimes my husband does get annoyed holding the car door open for a long time so all her "friends" can come out. He has even closed the door on a few - oops!"

Of course, so long as the imagined friend remains unexperienced by others, there is not much to concern us here. As David-Neel wrote regarding her tulpa, "There is nothing strange in the fact that I may have created my own hallucination. The interesting point is that in these cases of materialization, others see the thought-forms that have been created."

For what they may be worth, here are a couple of recent and possibly relevant posts on the "Unexplained-Mysteries" forum which similarly elevate the mystery.

From "chaoszerg":

When i was a child my mom and dad apparently heard a voice talking to me while i was asleep at the time i had a imaginary friend so this frightened my mom because of the voice so we moved and it never happened again.

And "ShadowLady":

When my little brother was between the ages of 3 and 6, he had an imaginary friend named "Bill". I actually heard my brother talking to his "friend" and then his "friend" answering back. We had all kinds of weird things happen in our house and we always blamed Bill. My brother is 24 now and he still swears that Bill was real, that he could see him and hold conversations with him. FREAKY!

Finally from I Used to Believe ("the childhood beliefs site"), this contribution from "Frances Ames":

I was a very lonely little girl when I was 5 years old and lived on Toronto Island at Hanlan's Point. I wished real hard for some new friends, my age, to play with when we all went to the beach, a few hundred yards from our house. An old man came and said here is 2 friends for you to play with. They will grow as you grow. They will stay with you as long as you don't tell anyone their names. Well, I was so happy. I would build things in the sand and they would too. I used to talk to them and my mother would pester me and asked who I was talking with. I finally told mom who they were. Dingus and Tardar. They went away and never came back. My 5 yr. old cousin saw them too. He let me know that after we became age 60. He told me the old man's name was Pookie. True story.

In The Field, Lynne McTaggart writes that EEG studies of the brains of children under five show that they "permanently function in alpha mode - the state of altered consciousness in an adult. Children are open to far more information.... In effect, a child walks around in a state of a permanent hallucination." Alpha waves appear to bridge the conscious and the subconscious. For much of our waking adult life, we don't have a decent bridge.

If childhood is a naturally liminal state, then perhaps much of what's called High Magick amounts to the attempt to recreate its conditions. (You say Tulpa, I say Imaginary friend.) Or in other words, a subset of occult science may amount to the recovery of power nascent to childhood. And what, I wonder, does this have to say about the child victims of mind control and ritual occult abuse?

It's late, and I'm afraid it's sketchy, but I'll have to finish this later.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

When I was nine or ten, my Finnish friend told me about how to have an out of body experience. He described leaving his body through essentially an act of will. I tried it but became frightened as I felt it begining to work a little and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to get back into my body. I repressed the memory but recalled it later in college after doing some meditation in a creativity workshop class.

Oh, and let's not forget the character of Danny from The Shining [or the The Shinning {we don't want to get sued.}] and his imaginary friend.

The idea of thought-forms rebelling is a bit disturbing. Although, from what I've read, the monk would have died on his own if she ignored him and forgot about him . . . maybe.

It sounds like she really put a lot of energy into him. I suppose it would be like trying to forget a lover, or a strong obsession . . . like the JFK assasination.

7/07/2006 05:36:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I wonder.

Has anyone experimented with the so-called "Brainwave Generator" floating around the Internet?

A quick Googling should turn it up.

You basically listen to it. It sounds like static and weird noises. It's supposed to induce your brainwaves into different states, but I'm not sure if I buy it, although I did try it.

7/07/2006 05:41:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Anonymous One,"it was the eating of flesh,that filled him with white light",they need the young and pure of soul for the magick to work.And yes Jeff this is a"planet of lost children",the minds of our children are being stolen.Say your prayers for the poor young ones that we have brought into this sick world.Things just seem to be ramping up,no one bothers anymore.By the time you catch up to the latest reality they already have a new one passing by.The "Mindstream" has been set,what ever they want us to think is just a button away.It's almost time to break out the"Piper sunglasses",later.

7/07/2006 06:49:00 AM  
Blogger Sounder said...

The naturally liminal state does not mix well with institutional power structures. My assumption is that Alpha Waves are subsumed by ego structures (memory), and a consciousness that has put things in their place.

Fixed categories inhibit our connection to the ineffable. Our next (set of) criteria for understanding will show its substance as we see how it can assist us in connecting more effectively to the ground of being.

Peace out.

7/07/2006 07:37:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

when i was in my early 20s, more than 20 years ago, i was aware of a process by which the naturally liminal state of my mind dissipated and was replaced by something else. this did not make me happy, and in hindsight it still doesn't.

there are many differences between the two mental states, but one that occurs to me now is that as a child and an adolescent, the passage of time was so dramatic. hearing a popular song from two years earlier would plunge me into the feelings and sensations of that time, which were so different and specific. now, the idea that recalling something from two years ago, let alone twenty, might have the same effect on me is a joke. it's all the same. it's all interchangeable. when did the u.s. bomb libya? it was like yesterday. it was during "this time" for me. time no longer passes. it has become like an area that expands slowly, even though the years pass quickly.

i often wonder how much of this is a matter of psychological development and how much has to do with world events. as a kid, i took it as a promise by the older baby-boomers that the evil world we lived in was going to be replaced with a better one. my liminal state slipped away in the early 1980s. there is a dull sameness to the world since then, though of course it's much worse than that.

one thing among many that happened, whether through the inevitable effects of technology or as the result of a conspiracy, or both, is that, let's say some time between 1970 and 1980, reality was "submerged" in large part into the financial markets. the other day i was reading something about the drama of the bond market during 1993 and 1994. i thought, wow, where was i at the time? in fact, i was pretty close to the belly of the beast, but the bond market didn't interest me. as steve lagavulin says, if you understand the financial markets, you have a chance to understand the world. if not, you don't. this is one of the big developments of the last 30 years, it seems to me. the nightly news turned into trivia, and much of the historical drama disappeared into the arcane world of numbers, where most of us can play no role.

not the liminal world i had hoped for.

- rp

7/07/2006 09:07:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think this topic segues nicely with the concepts put forth in the movie What The Bleep Do We Know.

I agree with Sounder's assertion that contemporary Institutionalized Western Culture boxes us in, and as a result, our possible field of vision and experiences are greatly compromised supposedly for a greater good.

Greater Good, my ass.

7/07/2006 09:10:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I've been thinking about Jeff's Tulpas Experience with the Chinese Laborer, and I can't help but think I have been cheated in some way, or else I'm a miserable failure when it comes to the practical application of Tulpas Conjuring.

From a very early age, I was a horny bastard. It started with the Big Breasted women in the Sears and Penny's Catalogues, but quickly advanced to the pages of Playboy. I so wanted those women to walk right off those pages and make love to me for hours, days, years on end. They never did, despite me longing for it with every fiber of my being.

Of course, now I'm married with two children and I am not a subscriber to Playboy, nor do I view porn. I see it for what it is. A Hologram Carrot.

There's a kid who had a big hallucination
Making love to girls in magazines.
He wonders if you're sleeping with your new found faith.
Could anybody love him
Or is it just a crazy dream?

I know Atem knows to whom those words are attributed, but can anyone else guess without googling it?

7/07/2006 09:38:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Alrighty, then ... picture this if you will.

Began at 2 AM, and
after eating an entire
box of Krispy Kremes,
at my need-to-know post
just outside Area 51 contemplating
the whole "chosen people" thing,
when a flaming, stealth banana split the sky, like, wide open.
I never expected to see it in a place like this.
I do believe I spilled a
diamond sundae
right on my Birkenstocks.
Then yelping

Holy fucking shit!

Then the X-Files being,
who was like some kind of blue-green jackie chan
with Isabella Rossellini lips and breath that reeked,
did a wicked jump there
also while making the sound a-banana-da-banana
that's when I opened up my bug-eyes,
my gaping jaw,
and my sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip,
and all I could think was,
"I hope Uncle Quark here doesn't notice
that I pissed my fuckin' pants."

So alive in this way
Like an apparition,
He had me crying out,
"Fuck me
It's gotta be
The bottom got on top of me
Got me seein' E-motherfuckin'-T!"

And after calming me down
with some orange slices
and some fetal spooning,
E.T. revealed to me his singular purpose.
He said, "You are the Chosen One,
the One who will deliver the message.
A message of hope to those who choose to hear it
and a warning to those who do not."
Me. The Chosen One?
They chose me, and I didn't graduate from fuckin' high school.

You'd better listen.

Then he looked right through me
With somniferous almond eyes
Don't even know what that means
Must remember to write it down
This is so real
Like the time they floated away
See, my heart is pounding
'Cause this shit never happens to me

I can't breathe right now!

It was so real,
Like I woke up in Wonderland.
Also a bit terrifying
I don't wanna be all alone
While I tell this story.
And can anyone tell me why
It was a repeat experience
Will I ever be coming down?
This is so real
Finally, it's my lucky day
See, my heart is racing
'Cause this shit never happens to me

I can't breathe right now!

You believe me, don't you?
Please believe what I just said!
See they're telling children
And this wasn't all in my head.
See, they took me by the hand
And invited me right in.
Then they showed me something
I don't even know where to begin.

Strapped down on my bed
Feet cold and eyes red
I'm out of my head
Am I alive? Am I dead?
Sunkist and Sudafed
Gyroscopes and infrared
Won't help, brain dead
Can't remember what they said
God damn, shit the bed

7/07/2006 10:03:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I read Gibbon at an early age and as a child I fashioned an "imaginary friend" to insulate me from what I thought was the constant oppression of empire. His name was Alphonso Tario and he looked like Victor Mature. In various situations Alphonso would stand up and say the outrageous things I felt, but submerged. He would do the things I feard to do, so that I could see the act played out in my mind without having to do anything. He was a childhood Mittyism, but one who did begin to take on a life of his own. He asked me questions I could not answer, gave me information of which I had no conscious knowledge and began to appear in dreams. I am reluctant to even write about him unless he be conjured anew, for I remember him as vividly as any person. What is strange is that he never died, for he never "was", and therefore maintains a constant energy.

My four year old son exhibits constant views to that which I cannot see, or perhaps I should say, can no longer see. The question is is he seeing things that are not there, or am I? I feel like toys are a means of destroying this natural ability, a way of capturing and neutralizing the energy through high pressured conformism and distraction.

Alphonso is standing behind me know in a silken brown cassock. He's saying you know it's true, we have all been stripped of our very souls.

7/07/2006 10:04:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

We haven't been stripped, we've just forgotten them!


I wonder if the formation of the ego or personality is essentially similar to formation of tulpas. It seems it would form gradually, first broad outlines, the particulars accumulating over time until it cannot be distinguished from... ordinary... people.

Many traditions teach that we are all the same underneath; psychedelics and mystic experience have the strange property of frequently impressing this idea upon the experienced in such a way that they are absolutley convinced this is true in some sense.

In this model, we would all be each other's (and our own) imaginary friends.

7/07/2006 10:29:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

To Shrubsy:

Re: the beat a dead horse with a crowbar then shove it off a cliff department:

So Mr. Geddon, has the whole tulpa gestalt forced you to re-examine your lack of belief in Ol' Saint Santa?

Or has your traumatic adolescent porn experience soured you on the whole "thought-forms made real" thing-a-ma-bob.

I used to work with this gay gent who I got to be pretty good friends with & he told me he used to work for one of the soft-core porn mags, I don't remember which one, touching up the girl's photos. Y'know, removing zits from their butts or blemishes from their skin. A guy can't be expected to wax the weasle to anything less than perfection can he?
Anyway, he told me one of their favorite little jokes they'd play on the wanker crowd involved removing one of miss perfects limbs, say a leg, and substituting a guys leg, suitably altered, in its place.

So maybe that's why your tulpa didn't materialize. You were longing for a girl with every fibre of your being, not a girl with one huge hairy man-leg attached.

Just a thought.

7/07/2006 10:33:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

For my part, I never experienced that liminal state of childhood. I have excellent memories of early childhood, going back to when I was 18 months, which I've tended to attribute to the fact that I settled into an adult form of consciousness very early. Most people, I think lose their earliest memories for the same reason we tend to forget the content of most dreams -- they become inaccessible when you shift mental gears.

I was also very skeptical as a small child, not inclined to believe in Santa Claus or the tooth fairy or any of that stuff. I remember one occasion the summer I was eight, when we were on vacation at a hotel in the mountains and all the kids but me had gone swimming. I was sitting alone at a picnic table near the edge of the woods, staring intently at the trees and wishing I could will myself to see some sort of magical creature out of the fairy-tales I'd been devouring. When that failed, I started regretting that I hadn't been more believing when I was 4 or 5 and it might have done some good.

I suppose it was that moment of frustrated longing that led me into becoming fascinated with the paranormal a year or two later. If not for that moment, I wouldn't be posting here today. But I've always felt somewhat like an outsider gazing in and wondering what I might have missed.

7/07/2006 10:55:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Anon at 10:04 said,

"He asked me questions I could not answer, gave me information of which I had no conscious knowledge and began to appear in dreams."

I have had that experience while in the Alpha state, dreaming but conscious enough to take note and recall some of it. I was being given information that I had no way of knowing before the dream. This little mini-revelation convinced me once again that dreams may be true communication from/with a being outside myself. Or one buried deep and separate from my conscious person.

Beyond that interesting factoid I have not spent the energy to pursue the question further, perhaps because I am happy enough with the visible world, trees, dogs, insects, making things and making deals. Besides that it is a bit scary to mess up the brain with stuff that is apparently not intended to be part of a humanoid's daily life.

It is interesting that no one, so far as I can tell, has offered a nice scientific explanation of dreams. Even one who can hold himself and his thinking apart from the culturally approved models has trouble with making sense of the dream phenomenon. Perhaps this concept of "making sense" doesn't apply at all, leaving us hunter-gatherers flummoxed - unable to deal with it.

The above is one of many strong clues that the world as it is presented to us in school and on TV is just one phase, three dimensions only, that we are allowed to experience, communicate within and about, and remain a comfortable part of.

7/07/2006 12:39:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I'm afraid we all suffer from a misuse of words with various associations or connotations that all too often distort their meaning and "imaginary" ought to be at the very top of the list...really! LMAO

Now all ideas are essentially "real", just as the landscape of our imagination ought to be properly considered as the quite real place or space where we creatively invent, evolve or simply stumble over them. I know that may sound paradoxical but there's no getting around the reality it produces!

But how does any idea manage to become "real" or actually materialize in our so-called real world?

Does it depend on just how real we have been inspired to imagine them? Or how very desirous we are of seeing them "for real"? Or does it possibly have something to do with the ideas themselves?

At what point might we say any particular idea's "time has come" or that it has become "infectious" or that it has started to take on "a life of its own"?

What is it that we are so very intuitively alluding to if not that at least some ideas have some quite unique power and potential all of their own?

Now the annals of literature are filled with tales of authors who've been quite literally, if you'll pardon the pun, haunted by some of their creations.

Arthur Conan Doyle grew to detest the intrusion of, and comparisons with, his remarkable Sherlock Holmes to such an exctent that he not only plotted his death, he actually had him killed off.

Of course the very "idea" of Sherlock Holmes was simply too vital and overwhelming not to mention so much more intelligent and resourceful than even Doyle himself that it simply refused to go away.

It simply wasn't the kind of idea to have such an illustrious and promising career cut short, particularly over such a mundane little item like it's discoverer's petty jealousy of it! LOL

Now regardless of how or where Conan Doyle found that "idea" or "ideal" he called Sherlock Holmes, we have to admit that the "spirit of it" is certainly alive and real enough, even today, to have some some very profound effects on virtually anyone who encounters it.

Somehow it is very much a part of us all simply waiting to come alive. The quintessential detective and determined unraveller of unsolved mysteries or crimes that is latent in us all. The spectre of our aroused curiousity backed up by all the intellectual prowess we can muster behind it...hmmm?

Now I'm having a little bit of fun here since there's certainly no shortage of deerstalker caps, magnifying glasses or even some plain old bored fiddling about in all of the posters here, including myself.

But what can we deduce about the genuinely important topic of "idea construction" both necessarily preceeding as well as visibly forming and taking place within this reality itself?

7/07/2006 12:55:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Or in other words, a subset of occult science may amount to the recovery of power nascent to childhood. And what, I wonder, does this have to say about the child victims of mind control and ritual occult abuse?"

wow, as this applies to MC "alters" maybe they can force you to make, and then become, your imaginary friend.

kinda like tyler durton, right? it was the guys longing and dread that created his own tulpa, which he could not even distinguish from himself.

7/07/2006 01:11:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


I'm not sure "soured" would be the appropriate word for it. Seeing something for what it is doesn't necessarily equate to "souring."

I still enjoy observing a beautiful woman, and I still masturbate, even though I'm married. What I don't do is pay Playboy to do so. I use my imagination and conjure up my own fantasies.....and that's perfectly healthy.

The same goes with the notion of Santa. I realize people carry on the myth out of short-sighted intentions of love and consideration, but I also realize that you can give those things to your child without paying the plump, red child molestor representing Consumerism/Corporatism.

Finally, you used the term "the wanker crowd" as though you were not part of that group. Come on, Richard, it's time to be truthful with yourself, and us. It's okay to say you masturbate. Santa does to, and he promises he won't skip your house next winter.

7/07/2006 01:13:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


those lyrics are from a song called "the final cut." either pink floyds last album, or roger waters' first. half empty/half full.

7/07/2006 01:16:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

dude h,

You got was Pink Floyd's last album as a group.

7/07/2006 01:31:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Funny an earlier comment mentions "constant oppression of empire," because Jeff's talking about Philip K. Dick and I just finished "VALIS," for the first time, and it is one of those rare things that left me gasping. Hell, not just "left me" but "had me" gasping and shaking my head and saying dumb things like "Holy Shit!" out loud.

There is no doubt (for most younglings) that the under-5 era is one of rich, strange mental activity. For example, there is something going on that gives many toddlers "cat vision," that ability to see and be intrigued (or scared) by things we can't see as adults.

I remember some such things, although I never got a visible buddy who hung around -- maybe I had too many neighborhood kids around, or siblings. Or maybe it was delayed; years later I read a scholarly book on poltergeist phenomena and realized, "so that's what was going on with all those flying rocks hitting me and rapping on the ceiling when I was 7-10 years old."

Whether toys help or hinder -- at the toddler level I believe they help with physical development -- there's no doubt the young brain is raring to go. My little ones never fail to astonish me: Anything I give them is immediately figured out and used for creation -- little musical instruments (those cheap battery-powered keyboards are faves), paint & crayons, sand castle stuff, every kind of book and periodical, and of course anything that's not a toy: empty boxes, my computer, etc. They hear a foreign language for a few days and immediately pick up the words. And of course they're tuned in to things we have to work very hard to even know about. I wonder a lot about William S. Burroughs' crazy (sane) theory that The Word is a virus that infected mankind and killed our mental freedom ... and left us in the Black Iron Prison, to go back to P.K. Dick ...

7/07/2006 02:24:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I followed the link on that Google-archived BabyCenter page and found more interesting stories, like this one:

My experience with an "imaginary friend" is what got me started in Paranormal Research over 15 years ago.

I had an imaginary friend when very young. Her name is Bethany. She spent a lot of time with me. I was told that I was getting to old to believe in imaginary friends. After a while I started to believe it myself. I remember making her leave me along by telling her I was to old to belive in her. Thankfully she didn't stop believing in me.

I am now 40 years old and she still come around. I now know she was a real person who died over 100 years before I first met her and I grew up about a half a mile from where she was buried. I have also worked with another family who's 4 year old son had an imaginary friend named Jacques who was causing problems. Jacques proved himself to me that he was a spirit looking out for his little friend.

7/07/2006 02:29:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


Santa Claus DOES NOT masturbate, you lying bastard! Take it back! Take it BAAAACK!!!

I'm pretty sure the Easter Bunny climbed up the open leg of my shorts one time, tho'....

7/07/2006 02:29:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

It's crazy how often the topics dealt with in this blog, wether in Jeff's posts or the comments to them, will synchronize with topics I've been rolling round in my head. It struck me a day or two ago (ouch), that our culture has a tendency to, on the one hand, crush the child-like creativity (or alpha-states) out of a person, and on the other hand, enforce a permanent state of child-like dependence on authority, and lack of personal responsibility. It's like a worst-of-both-worlds scenario.

7/07/2006 03:07:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Also, along those lines, I was thinking about this thing that someone once claimed Jesus said:

“Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are converted and become as little children, you will by no means enter the kingdom of heaven."

I suppose there's at least a few dozen interpretations one could make of that, though.

7/07/2006 03:14:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

When I read this I first thought "tulpa, isn't she a famous transsexal" She was a bond girl." Then I googled "tulpa transsexual" And got a lot of interesting results. But then I realized I had I misread it, after all I've never heard of the term "tulpa" before. Her name is Tula not tulpa.

I does fit though, because if there are any tulpas that others can see it is surely we transsexuals. And if there is one group that others wish to repress and subjugate it is us.

They fear us, even more than they fear gays. Because we literally embody the fluid nature of reality. And because the last thing many parents want is for their children to "be themselves". The last thing this culture wants to embrace is real "diversity". They want fake diversity, fake freedom, fake truth and fake love.

They are afraid that if you let children be themselves and if you truely love and nurture them, then all hell would break loose. And they are right, of course. But it wouldn't be hell, except maybe for them I suppose.

So if you want to really visit the planet of lost children. You will find it fill with all the gay, lesbian and transgendered children who were pushed down and kept down. Beaten, raped and murdered to keep the world "safe".


7/07/2006 03:31:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

jeff -

You omitted one of the more curious aspects re: tulpa creation & maintenance:
if the individual doesn't maintain absolute control over their creation the being can & will kill him/her. Curious oversight..

re: starroute

the vicarious disappointments/longings
of being born old .sigh

Algiers or Blue Parrot?


7/07/2006 04:17:00 PM  
Blogger owlindaylight said...

I underwent a year and a half of clairvoyant training at Berkeley Psychic Institute, and can confirm that the process of awakening the perception of “subtler realms” is indeed a process of re-awakening, of recovering information formerly known. And the way I was taught to approach that knowledge was “like a child.”

This is why the Institute calls its program, in all seriousness, “Psychic Kindergarten.”

It wasn’t long before I became aware of presences, began seeing entities and energies that exist in more rarefied spaces (and these are omnipresent, in my experience), quite without trying to do so. One would assume that most people, when having such experiences, would begin to worry about whether they might be having a psychotic break. This never really came up for me, and doesn’t seem to for other students, because, oddly enough, these visions come as no surprise. What I realized was that I’d always seen these things, but had filtered them from my consciousness out of adherence to the dictates of consensus reality.

Now they are an everyday part of my life, just another layer of information. And I can still filter them out if I want to, but having been given permission to see them, I find them a valuable additional source of data (and meaning) overlaid upon daily life.

This is from an interview with the current director, Susan Hull Bostwick:

“When you find out what your own information is you start to grow. Finding your own certainty as a psychic is first of all a matter of unlearning and then relearning. So when you unlearn that it's not bad to be psychic or that it's okay to not have to ask why, except that your abilities are simply there, that they can be opened up and that you are the master of doing that, then you progress at your own rate.

The ability to read somebody else is something that everybody has. We haven't found anybody who can't be trained. Opening up psychically is a matter of being able to clear away a lot of information that has invalidated that ability.”

7/07/2006 05:53:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wonderful, Jeff, and I feel your conclusion about childhood and 'high magic' is right on. Zen talks about 'losing your thoughts'; Jesus about 'become like the little children'.

7/07/2006 06:47:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ya know Shrubsy, for awhile there I thought that you actually got the joke.

Now I realize that you're about 8 miles away from the joke.


As far as the "wanker crowd" goes, that's the term my gay friend used.

As far as my own wanking goes, I'm thankfully free of the modern obsession with discussing my sex practices as if it were interesting to everyone within earshot. Although I will say this, I work with this one gent who obsessively masturbates until blood drips from his dick, & he's become, even though he has the IQ of a small cabbage, my personal hero & guru.

Now that, my friend, is a man.

7/07/2006 07:47:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


I got the joke, but I felt compelled to bring it back to semi-serious discussion again. I like to vacillate between the two, rather than continually upping the ante with oneupsmanship.

As far as my own wanking goes, I'm thankfully free of the modern obsession with discussing my sex practices as if it were interesting to everyone within earshot.

Did you consider the Puritans, or the Victorians to be free? I wouldn't label them that, yet they held the same stance you do in regards to the mention of sex.

I stated a broad, general fact. I'm a horny bastard, or was one, and I masturbate, and have done so from a very early age. I haven't gotten any more specific than that, nor will I, and I have not stated it to impress. It's a mere biological function like breathing, is all, and my mention of it was to satirically support a point, not just say it for the hell of saying it.

Masturbating chronically and obsessively is obviously a problem, just as abusing substances is, and should be addressed poste haste. My Uncle, who was a Catholic Priest, by the way, once ate 25 ears of corn on the cob at one sitting. He had bloody diarrhea for days thereafter. Another real man. Hey, I think a Budweiser Commercial is in order, don't ya think?

7/07/2006 08:35:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Yay The Final Cut... heck of a bleak album, but for some reason it's one in my collection I keep coming back to. "Two Suns in the Sunset", brrr.

I'm with Starroute - I must have been pretty naturally skeptical as a kid. I never had an imaginary friend or saw tulpas, and I wished quite hard that I could, and tried several times to visualise things... just didn't happen. And it's not like I wasn't imaginative - I used to invent imaginary devices. But I always knew I was 'making' an imaginary picture, not 'seeing' one. I couldn't make myself believe in something that I knew wasn't real.

Not that I don't believe - my mother was quite strongly psychic/sensitive/prophetic, had multiple NDEs, precognitive dreams, and talked about them a lot - and I've had a few liminal experiences myself. But not of the tulpa kind, and frankly, I *really* don't want to try, because I don't think the result would be good.

My liminality seems to have woken up *after* age 14, which I find interesting. I've become a lot more understanding of the occult themes in science fiction as an adult, when as a kid it just pissed me off no end for its scientific inaccuracy.

7/07/2006 10:06:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Anonymous 4:17 -

Was I born old, then? Perhaps. My own childhood remains a mystery to me, but I know I often felt like an alien among my supposed peers.

Dealing with grownups was, for the most part, no better. I remember one incident from when I was 3 and visiting my grandparents. I'd removed the wooden foot-rest of an old-fashioned lounge chair and was sitting on it and pretending it was a sled. A woman who I didn't know came over to me and said in an incredibly kitchy-coo voice, "Oooh, is that your sled?" I felt deeply insulted that she thought I was some sort of idiot who didn't understand the difference between reality and make-believe. I didn't try to explain it to her though. When you're 3, it can be very hard to get the grownups to "see" you as a real person and take you seriously.

What didn't occur to me at the time was that it might not always be either possible or necessary to take the grownups seriously.

7/07/2006 10:08:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

you masterbate over sick puppy

7/07/2006 10:27:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

when putin kissed the wee boy he was trensferring his parasitic the wee boy in years to come ,next russin pres!!!!

7/07/2006 10:47:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

From childhood?
Have there been any strange~ things ~happen around your *new* home as of late Jeff?
Just curious.

7/07/2006 11:03:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

SciFi writer Stanislaus Lem explored the Tulpa concept magnificently in Solaris; the mysterious planet reflecting and projecting back real life projections of the dearly departed, possibly as they lived in the subconcious of those who perceived them. If you rent the movie, however, rent the original directed by Tarkovsky. I admire Clooney and Soderberg for attempting the material but it dosen't come close to the brilliance of the original.

7/07/2006 11:08:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

putin was putin his parasite into the kid when he was young enough....look out for a nu russian pres soon(he kissed him on the umbilicle)

7/07/2006 11:13:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

the post goes some distance towards explaining the socalled collective subconscious, the persistence of myth and fable, archetypes.

the tyler durton bit is just a bonus.

7/08/2006 12:29:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well Shrub, from what I can see, this is turning into a case of picking nits off a baboons asshole.
To me, this is a prime fucking example of why the internet is a piss poor substitute for eye to eye face to face's too damn easy to misconstrue what is said.
For example, my pro-Santa rant...what you missed was my wife reading it over my shoulder, laughing & smacking me in the head saying, "But you hate Christmas."

So there Shrubsy, I'm out of the closet, I haaaaaaaaaaaaate Christmas. It's nothing but a big fat sugar titty in my opinion.
Folk who are stone cold bastards 364 days of the year get all ooogly over one artificially created holiday that gives them permission to act human one day of the year.
Big fucking deal.

What I do enjoy is the light in my kid's eyes on Christmas morning.
So sue me.
I don't fucking care.

They'll have oodles & oodles of time neck deep in reality, a little magic & illusion isn't going to hurt them . Or maybe you can start a movement to ban David Copperfield & CGI etc., etc. Hell,I can't remember when i discovered the lie or if I even cared. & if you think I spoil them with mounds of filthy lucre, you're waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay unfamiliar with my finances pal.

What annoyed me most was the smug agreement on that message board. It was like staring at a placid unmoving lake that was just begging for a big rock to be thrown into it.
Again, sue me.
I don't care.

I did enjoy some of the responses though.
There are a few people here who take themselves waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too seriously.
The gent who "made his peace with death" long ago comes to mind. Man, would I loooooooooove to be a fly on the wall when the doc says, "Sorry pal, but you've got 3 months to live." I'd bet that illusion of peace is the 1st thing to fly out the damn window.

To be truthful, you weren't the fish i had initially hoped to land, but I ran with what i was given.
Again sue me.

Also, phrases like "Consumerism/Corporatism"
just make my eyes glaze over. Everytime i read them I think of Mr. Anti-Corporation Noam Chomsky, a man who has spent his entire life raging against corporate America, being asked, "So, Mr. Chomsky, do you have a stock portfolio?"
His hem & haw "You'll have to ask my wife" answer was priceless.

But by all means, let's remove the consumer orgy from Christmas, I'm all for it. Then all those businesses can go belly up & all those people who are barely making it working retail can just fucking starve.
How many single moms would be among them, do you think?
Then we can replace all those deluded kiddies with hungry ones.
Real good plan.

as far as the sex thing goes, you nailed it pal. I'm the reincarnation of Cotton Mather. Yee-ha.
While I'm a bore at parties, I do get to where all these cool black duds.

The compulsive masturbator I mentioned is retarded.
The "hero" comment was for my own amusement.
Take it however you want.
Don't care.

Now amigo, I bid you fond farewell. I think that I've hogged Mr. Wells' blog enough. I'm a newcomer to this whole message board deal. Made a few attempts at Yahoo until they kicked me off for posting a list of the war dead under the heading 'President Bush's Real Political Capitol' right after the 2004 election. Mind you, on this same message board folk were posting, unhindered, details about how they fucked a liberal in the ass & how they shot a liberal's kid in the head on the same news story message board.
Didn't use any fucking goddamn cocksucking curse words either.
Oh well.

It did teach me that while I may be looking out at the world, the world is looking in at me.
Internet as Nietzchean abyss, eh wot?

For the record, never considered myself Liberal, but when the Liberals were asking some pretty relevant questions, questions that could have been countered by, y'know, answering the damn things, & were being shouted down with 'traitor' & 'treason,' I chose the liberal side.

Frankly, this internet confab deal has become a lot like talking to my mom...I say one thing, she thinks i mean something else.
While I love my mom, i try to limit my exposure to annoying crapola that doesn't really accomplish all that much in the end.

I'm gonna play Santa now & fade back into the ethernet & let the battle against facism move on unhindered.

My evil , malevolent & sexually repressed Puritan brain is just aching for another obsessive Mien Kampf marathon.

Hell, I might even wax the weasel during ol' Adolph's more frothy moments.

The pleasure was mine pal.

7/08/2006 12:52:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I don't remember any imaginary friends when I was little. However, as I am moving toward my older years, the veil between me and the Other Side is thinning. I have seen cat spirits, a dog spirit, a demon feeding off someone's anger, and I felt my father's hand on my shoulder one day when I was thanking him for all the glasses of fresh squeezed orange juice he had made me as a child. It's odd that these things don't surprise or frighten me. I just accept that they are there, and I spend some time wrapping myself in white light.

7/08/2006 01:03:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

& because I'm compelled to mimic genital herpes & never really go away Shrub, sex is neat & spiffy & all that, but I've just worked with too many young girls who ramble on about how "naughty" they are, & there's much giggling & tittering, & then the insemination happens & the shit hits the fucking fan hard.

There's a 20 year old working with me now, nice kid, the IQ of a fencepost. Her boyfriend knocked her up because he wanted a little but no one had birth control so he told her, "It's ok honey, I smoked pot with seeds in it today, & pot seeds keep the little baby from forming."

Then the yoo-hoo gets her to fuck him 4 1/2 weeks after that kid pops out & knocks her up again. I watched my wife push out 4 huuuuuuge goddamn kids, the last being 10 lbs. 11 oz., & there's no motherfucking way that her gaping wound would have been ready for some loving in 4 1/2 weeks.

Turns out hers wasn't either.

She gave in to him because, "Well, if it wasn't me, he'd get it somewhere else."

Like I said, IQ of a fencepost. Hell, the guy doesn't even have a job.

Y'know, I have 2 daughters Shrub, & if she were mine this boy would have a serious James Caan beating the shit out of his sister's boyfriend hurting coming to him.
Alas, her daddy hopped on his bicycle & peddled out of the picture long ago.

So shrub, all these little freedom pinnacles where everyone gets to be healthy little well adjusted cosmopolitans has, like all human pinnacles, a really ugly & venal downside.

& i give you my favorite Playboy moment:

Howard Stern show....Howard giving a few playmates his playmate IQ test....he asks this drop dead gorgeous petit little pony-tailed blonde "How many dimes in a dollar?"
She sat there as slack-jawed as any could be. The only thing missing was the drool.
Nothing sexier than a woman's mind pal.

Take care.


I mean it this time.

7/08/2006 01:23:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

shit, richard, i thought the same as you about the x-mas thing, by the way, just never piped up. heck, i don't even remember when i found out that st. nick never existed, and i enjoy christmas just the same today. to the ones who say they still can't get over being lied to and won't lie to their kids, i ask, "what do you say when your kid asks you where babies come from, seeing as you'll never give your children anything but the unvarnished truth? do you REALLY tell them about your 'penis' and mommy's 'vagina' or do you come up with a santa claus story?"
in the end, however, it isn't anyone's business how they raise their own kids, i guess, but there's nothing worse than running into a jaded 5-year-old around christmas time: the ice in some kids' veins that were raised by strict, self-styled 'realists' is frankly disturbing.

oh, well--on this tulpa thing though, it reminds me of the movie "millions." loved it and wished i had had the same as a kid.

7/08/2006 03:19:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I brought in the Santa Claus meme, and you know something, it was an EXAMPLE of everyday, commonplace deception, illusion, etc. that is part of our lives. Kind of like how your wife compartmentalizes her lover as she cheats on you, or how you steal time while you work, or how Bush was a heroic air pilot while Kerry never even went to Vietnam, and your food is Organic, but what does that mean anyway? And all the crap they try to sell you is supposed to do something for you, but it doesn't really, except waste your money mostly. And what do most Americans do for a living? Where's the wealth generation? What's in those mouth-watering hamburgers? What's up with what we see on TV or read in a newspaper. It's all lies, illusions, deceptions, fluff, puff, etc. etc. etc. Myths are just another example. Is it really necessary for Santa Claus to bring presents? Jews don't have a Hanukkah fairy; in fact the miracle is relatively mild; lamp oil that lasted for 8 days instead of 1. I merely pointed out Santa Claus was a common lie parents tell their children; but it's only one of many lies.

As for where babies come from; you're damned if you do and damned if you don't on that front. If you tell them, they may experiment, if you don't tell them, they may stumble on it anyway, because children are curious. At least if you tell kids, you can explain to them rationally so they can understand why things are a certain way. Many societies view children as little adults, not things to be pampered, sheltered, and swaddled in illusions. But wait, what am I saying, this is America, where must all be cocooned in cotton candy fairy-tales that lull us into somnolescence, while our Masters send the legions out to enslave the rest of the world. God forbid we have to awaken to the reality of our own cowardice and culpability. The Santa Claus thing, while seemingly harmless, is really symbolic to American pathology. Quite simply:


Do you get it yet? The oil that runs our cars, the cheap goods, the wealth. Where does it all from? Who cares! It's ours! Get while the gettings good.

Well it comes from somewhere, and there's a price whether we like it or not. Just like there's a price for Santa's gifts. And if you come from a poor family, that price could be heavy indeed. Mommy and Daddy have to work extra hard to buy the luxury of the tree, all of the trappings, and lets not forget the feast, and the presents. But Santa gets all the credit.

I guess that's the way some people want it.

Richard and Shrub et al:

Start your own blog so you can have your fights.

7/08/2006 04:56:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

prunes said...
I wonder if the formation of the ego or personality is essentially similar to formation of tulpas. It seems it would form gradually, first broad outlines, the particulars accumulating over time until it cannot be distinguished from... ordinary... people.

It's an elegant idea. Imagine one's own personality forming as a sort of bootstrapped tulpa, the rudiments arising from the expectations of others, then gradually taking over the direction of its own development. It would handily account for the idea of a soul, or for ghosts or other remnants of consciousness that survive death.

Have any of you ever experimented with the old-fashioned mechanical dream machines?

They're much easier to cobble together than the electronic devices, and can have some dramatic effects. The main difficulty these days lies in finding a phonograph.

-Sepka the Space Weasel

7/08/2006 05:33:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Richard don't go, ths blog needs someone with your attitude. And I personally like your real sense of decency.

Anyway, I might have been distracted, but has anyone read or heard of John Whyndam, who wrote the Kracken Wakes, and Day of the Triffids.

He wrote a story called Chocky

Its about a kid with an imaginery friend, all cool with the parents until the imaginary friend starts teaching him quantum physics or something.

"I thought about it a lot. I wondered whether, behind the door and out of sight, he was still striking the same pose."

For some reason this got me thinking of Shroedingers Cat... The thought experiment not the book/trilogy.

Jeff if you haven't read chocky, and have got your life sorted enough after the move. It might be worth a quick scan, I don't think its a big book.

Also, did you feel tired energised or nothing perticularly noticeable after he appeared or you thought about him?

"And what, I wonder, does this have to say about the child victims of mind control and ritual occult abuse?"

Ever seen Akira?

The idea of thought-forms rebelling is a bit disturbing. Although, from what I've read, the monk would have died on his own if she ignored him and forgot about him . . . maybe.

It is a thought form, it doesn't need to attatch to a particular mind, but reacts to thoughts in minds. This is how thought forms achieve independance, but inculcating themselves into other minds.

Either by the physical interaction, "Once, a herdsman who brought me a present of butter saw the tulpa in my tent and took it for a living lama." Its becoming real...

Or by mental interaction. Thought forms don't always appear specific. There is a thoughtform living over most cities that feeds of the general stress of living in cities. Once your thoughts have formed a recognisable shape to the thoughtform it has some kind of access to your mind.

Its probably similar to habit formation, as a physical process. (IE nerve thickening and stuff.) Habits and thought forms can feedback on each other and sometimes may seem interchangeable...

7/08/2006 07:46:00 AM  
Blogger Jeff Wells said...

"Jeff if you haven't read Chocky..."

I have, a long time ago; thanks for reminding me of it. I was a big Whyndam fan as a teen. (The Chrysalids was required reading, though I forget which grade. Probably should read that again, too.)

And no, I don't recall any change in my energy after seeing whatever I saw.

7/08/2006 10:18:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Great post, Jeff. You have made me think and reexamine my past once again. Your blog is always good for personal growth for me. I really can't thank you enough.

Thanks, also, to the commentators. Anonymous 4:56 you have given me enough to chew on about abundance and materialism for the rest of the day. Thanks also for your parting comment. I agree that Richard and Shrubageddon should duke it out somewhere else. Whose dick is bigger? Who cares. Enough of the macho crap.

About the tulpa thing, when I was growing up I remember my strict German-American mother cooking some sort of apple dish with cloves. I thought that the word "clove" was interesting, so I formed a little club with my younger brother called The Clove. I had a pretty active imagination at age 8 (my brother was 5) and I told stories to my kid brother about how the Clove was based on an ancient group of knights and it was a very old association. One of the things associated with this Clove was the Clove Elf, a mythical leprechaun figure I made up who brought presents to kids. I told my younger brother that he had to believe in the Clove Elf in order to have him get presents. Of course, the Clove Elf was confused with Santa Claus and Jesus (and the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny)and at this time my younger brother was doubting all of it. He went to an older brother to ask him if the Clove Elf was real. "Just say you believe in it," I overheard him telling my younger brother, "you'll get stuff if you do." So, my little 5-year old brother started to claim he believed in the Clove Elf (and I had to come up with the presents which were either things I made or refurbished old toys of mine).

Something strange began to happen. I started to see, out of the corner of my eye, a 3-foot-tall being (?) always turning a corner or leaving a room. I'd never heard of a Tulpa before, but thinking back, I wonder if this was some sort of manifestation of intent compounded with my younger brother's want to believe.

I still see strange things out of the corner of my eye sometimes, usually just movements, as if someone were there. I've always wondered if this was some sort of psychosis or, as my mother used to say, "it's just your mind playing tricks on you again." Who the hell knows.

7/08/2006 10:22:00 AM  
Blogger slomo said...

I wonder if the formation of the ego or personality is essentially similar to formation of tulpas. It seems it would form gradually, first broad outlines, the particulars accumulating over time until it cannot be distinguished from... ordinary... people.

I think this is very close to the truth. The ego/personality is a tulpa created (in part) by ones parents, ones teachers and schoolmates, and as time goes on, oneself.

The personality of a dog might also be a tulpa. There's the folk-saying that dogs are like their owners, but I didn't realize how true it is until I got my own dog. She's exactly the way I would be if I were a dog!

7/08/2006 10:37:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The dog as a tulpa - now there's a theory to which I subscribe. The imaginary friend of my childhood was a dragon dog named Puffo (no doubt a close relative of Puff the Magic Dragon, which was a big hit at the time). He was a yellow lab type, but with huge saucer eyes and dragon snout. He slept under my bed and ran next to the car when we drove anywhere. I took it for granted that my parents couldn't see him, but I could.
Now I have my own dogs but I feel that we all exist in another dimension - as companion energies. Did I create this reality in order to rationalise the entry of these energies/entities into my realm of existance? They are extensions of me - they live my lifestyle with me, follow me from room to room, my habits are their habits, and they generally attach their existances to mine. Cats don't do that.

7/08/2006 12:47:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No relation at all with today's post but the US Army is now actively recruiting skinheads and other extremists.

Ain't life grand?

Yet another step into the quagmire...

7/08/2006 12:50:00 PM  
Blogger sunny said...

As a very young child, I used to see the "devil" all the time, and you can believe I didn't want to see him.

He looked like a man about 5' tall with luminous (as in beautiful, not glowing like a cartoon) green eyes and completely covered with a sleek and shining coat of black fur, as if he were a cat in the throes of an incomplete metamorphosis. I usually saw him after I had done something wrong, like say a curse word, as I was disturbingly wont to do at the time.

Now here is the strange part. Although I grew up, and still live, in the Bible Belt, my family was not particularly religious. They were not even in the habit of going to church on holidays, much less threatening me with punishment from the devil. So where could this creature have come from? I don't know, but he stopped appearing to me around the age of seven, never to return, thank goodness. He scared me to death, and I was totally convinced he was actually there.

Until your post, I had not thought of that experience in years.

7/08/2006 12:57:00 PM  
Blogger sunny said...

As an addendum to my post, I just wanted to relate how the devil/cat/man would appear to me. Usually, after some infraction I would see him pop out from a closet and glare at me, or he would poke his head up from the side of the porch and shake his head, as tho disappointed. Or, less frequently, he would stand in the middle of the road and shake his finger as we drove away. After I had done something wrong, I looked around, expecting to see him.

heh. This is really starting to sound like a self-imposed guilt trip, isn't it? Thanks Jeff, for clearing that up for me.

7/08/2006 01:08:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

jules said...
Richard don't go, ths blog needs someone with your attitude. And I personally like your real sense of decency.

Yeah, Richard, don't go. I'll be the martyr and sacrifice myself for the greater good so all of you can heal and grow.

I hope I didn't hurt your feelings. You seem a bit sensitive of late and I don't want to rattle your banana tree any more than necessary.

So, not realizing it was a competition, I hand the empty victory cup to you.

To all the other assholes who have asked me to leave, up yours with a red hot poker......oh, shit, on second thought you already have several up your ass, so that won't work.

I will say this , though. Nothing any of you do or say will change a God Damned thing. What you see is what you get.



PS: Gee, yet another place that hasn't worked out for me. Talk about living on the outside looking in.....when you get knocked off a discussion board like this, you know you don't stand a chance in hell of fitting in anywhere. Oh well, life goes on, I suppose.

At least McMurphy's learned to get out before the lobotomy.

7/08/2006 01:27:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

borges wrote a story about a tulpa(can't remember the name). i believe the tulpa eventually killed his creator. is it curious?

7/08/2006 02:45:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

To the self-monikered "Shrub" and his other dick buddy "Richard",

you wrote: "What you see is what you get."

Exactly so. There is nothing more boring, distasteful, ludicrous, than watching a couple of "men" with tiny weewees trying to duke it out in a public pissing contest.

Your IQ's are as minimal as your levels of insight, and, dare I say it, your pathetic equipment.

Shrubbery: Have the decency to follow your man-mate Richard through the door, and don't let it hit you in the ass on the way out.

Nurse Ratchit was certainly a rigid, frigid, authoritarian mind killer. But McMurphy was a rude, bullying, stupid ass. Both should have had a better life. But Kesey wanted fame, and his mind was addled by state-supplied acid.

What's your excuse?

Please, don't answer. Just go away.

7/08/2006 02:53:00 PM  
Blogger sunny said...

I'm not sure why people are spending time hurting each other in blog comments? If you don't like what a person has to say, do not read them or respond to them. Otherwise, would it kill some of you all to pick out something positive about a person's comment and highlight that? What's so hard about that?

Maybe someone is having a rough time, and they come here to get a little feed-back, a little validation. Maybe they need some sort of human contact, as imperfect as the internet is at that endeavor. Perhaps think before you respond hatefully to another person's thoughts- how would I feel, what would it do to me if someone treated me as though I were not worth anything?

A little kindness goes a long way, and it don't cost a dime.

7/08/2006 03:51:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You seem to have joined in the fight yourself Anon 2:53. Stone throwing not allowed here y'hear?

I have for the most part enjoyed Shrubby and Richard's little game; both are very interesting commenters - so what if some of it is in the form of a heated argument? Much more civilised than many other blog fights we are exposed to, you know, those which run on for days and end up running out of steam eventually. Part of the whole game I reckon.

Anyway, if you don't like some or all of it you always have the privilege of scanning thru for something more interesting to yourself.

Now, to both Shrub and Richard, arguers # 1 and 2, walking away in a huff or as a means of pride retention is not called for at all. Some (many?) of us are entertained by your virtual word war. Just keep it interesting.

7/08/2006 04:20:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

All this bickering. It might be best if you use the R.A.W. idea ; after every statement, use the word 'MAYBE'. Like, "You're an asshole, MAYBE."

7/08/2006 05:21:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

George Fox website on being a disciple of Jesus Christ.

7/08/2006 05:52:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shrubageddon's Tulpas,

Greetings, all. I am Shrubageddon's Tulpas and I just wanted to say that Shrubageddon isn't going anywhere. He will be back shortly, and he was being spiteful when he said nothing you do or say will change anything.

See, Shrubageddon does indeed love all of you, including Richard. In fact, he's said as much on more than one occasion.

Well, thanks for listening, and thanks for sharing your hearts and souls. Now I'm off to dinner. I know a good Tulpas Bar down the street. :-)

PS: By the way, Shrubageddon asked his daughter about the imaginary friend she used to have several years prior. She said she still believed in Bloris and he was still her friend. Shrubageddon asked her how often they saw each other and she said every day, except maybe not today because she was going swimming.

Also, Shrubageddon's wife was awakened last night to a three foot being at her bedside who scurried away when she was startled awake. This is the second time in the last week she has had this experience. Last night she knows she did not set her alarm clock, but nonetheless, it went off this morning. She freaked, and the weird part is, she's menstruating. Shrubageddon half jokingly told her whatever it was, it was after her menses. She's thinking that one over, I'm certain.

7/08/2006 07:32:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Listen (to) Little Man. Thats a great idea, to actually try and write in something resembling that semantic "sombutnotall" language.

BTW Shrub - Don't you go either. (Unless you want to).

Jeff, about the energy level thing, sometimes trhings take energy sometimes they don't I don't understand why.

This house we live in is appears to be haunted. By lots of things, well a couple of different things. One seems to make the house colder. The other (group) doesn't.

The group seems to be a bunch of Very old blackfellas, pre invasion mab possibly. They have lived here for a long time.

The other thing is hard to tell.

Before we moved into the place a guy went on an orange fast, and died on the front doorstep just before he finished it. There have also apparantly been ODs and stuff before we got here.

I dunno if that has any relevence to your story. But its what came to mind.

7/08/2006 07:49:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

rah rah rah !!! Ebyam dna and W.A.R !!! rah rah rah !!!

(talf a ni duol tuo gnus eb ot gnos etubirt a)

eb ehs yam?
eb eh yam.
eb ew yam?
ew eb ew yam.

eb ew ebyam


yam eb ti
yam ti
ton eb

ti eb yam

eb uoy ebyam
ton ebyam
eb i ebyam
ton ebyam
eb ew ebyam
ton ebyam
eb ton ew yam
ton ebyam

.?...sey, nuf doog...?.

7/08/2006 09:43:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


Great article as usual. I'm gratified that you actually used Tibetan occultism as a launching pad for your insightful musings. I actually suggested such a while back (in addition to "Eastern" occultism/mysticism in general), but as an anonymous poster I don't flatter myself that it was my suggestion that prompted it. I've had problems logging in with a blogger identity, so now just occasionally comment anonymously, so I imagine my posts may just be ignored. I would like to think my comments are read and taken seriously, but I have to be realistic. They're (my postings) just one voice amongst the many anonymous posters; though I'm sure you've noticed some interesting and well-written stuff in other anonymous posters (not that mine are that high-calibre!).

David-Neel is a fascinating woman. Her biography, Secret Lives of Alexander David-Neel: The Life of Alexandra David-Neel is a great read. She was an amazing woman.

As a long-time practitioner of Tibetan Buddhism, I can say that it used to be thought that she was just bullshitting, but there were too many things she reported in that book that were of a nature that she had to have had intimate knowledge of her subject. In other words, she really did make her way to Tibet and though much is "sensationalized", including her improbable "tulpa" story, she really did gain a lot of information that is genuine.

Somewhat coincidentally, your post includes her mention of "tsams". I've worked on transribing and editing talks given by Tibetan teachers and the one that I did that actually made it into a book was from a retreat where "tsams" was kind of the main topic. "Tsams" (pronounced ,"tsam") just means "retreat" (or "boundary") in English, but denotes "isolation from"; usually physical isolation, but the spiritually deeper sense is isolation personally from the "conflicting emotions" of hatred, greed, envy, pride, ignorance, etc. It usually means undertaking a time where one is doing serious all-day (and night) practice of these, what can only be described in Western terms, as occult practices.

Anyway, His Holiness the Dalai Lama just recently had to cancel his European tour. The official reason is because of his health. The unofficial reason may be due to a longstanding occult problem that may interest RI readers. Tibetan Buddhists often rely on "protectors". These can sometimes be unenlightened beings of immense power. There is a "protector" that has been problematic; many Westerners have been initiated into its cult. I'm talking about Shugden (also called Dhogyal, for you google -hounds).

Just before HHDL's announcement of cancellation, there was a big problem with one of the most well-known practitioners, the Western monk Geshe Michael Roach. He recently emerged from a three year retreat and announced that he'd taken a consort. Actually, more like four or more. He wanted to teach in Dharamsala while the Dalai Lama was given teachings, but was forbidden. See for more details. Lots of disillusioned students. Some are saying he has gone insane, because of propitiation of a renegade "protectore".

It's a generally hidden (thus truly "occult") part of the whole phenomenon of Westerners participating in this religion. As a longtime practitioner, I've heard a great deal of stories. There are some nasty entities being propagated amongst some Western practitioners. The Dhogyal episode is most famous; and amongst some that entity is said to have been responsible for the outbreak of Mad Cow in Europe, for example, because of his propitiation. An outlandish claim for sure, but taken very seriously amongst some of my co-religionists and amongst many Tibetan Lamas.

I can't detail it here, but have given enough keywords for anyone,especially you Jeff, to investigate through search engines.

I have to also thank you Jeff for informing me about the Western Occult traditions. With my deep involvement in my own sect of Tibetan tradition, I had thought that Western Occultism was merely a fantasy. And it mostly is. But the parallels of practice are too important to ignore. Many Western Occultists are too eager to participate in these (Western occcult) rites that invite real entities into their lives; and the entities show real power. But they're tremendously dangerous. Even HHDL was misled and participated in rites that invoked Dhogylal. He has repudiated those practices.

You'll see the complicated state-of-affairs if you search. I used to think it was ludicrous to associate some Europeans' practice of Dhogyal/Shugden and something like a Mad Cow outbreak, but now I'm beginning to think otherwise.

Have fun researching this stuff, if you find it compelling.

But, anyway, Jeff, best wishes for you and yours; I think you are working for the Good.

7/09/2006 12:39:00 AM  
Blogger Sounder said...

Think Resonance.

The manifest expression results from the balance between liberty and order within consciousness.

Come as a little child before the Lord. That means; get over your ego games and social conditioning.

Salvationists tend to be easily manipulated and are lunchmeat for negative etheric entities. Self-abdignationists are the polar expression to the Salvationists, and is dinner to these forces. Both expressions are self-centered and obscure opportunities for authentic expression of being and fellowship.

Christ is raised when we learn to balance the Law and Spontaneity, thereby turning something that can be negative when unbalanced into something positive.

Love to all, (and from All)

7/09/2006 08:57:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

So jeff, does this apply to the boogeyman? As a child I thought for sure there was something lurking in my room at night....just waiting for me to drift off to sleep....Do you think a child could self-manifest any type of creature in this manner?

7/09/2006 09:34:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Is the Boogeyman strictly a Western Phenomenom, or does it cross many cultures? It seems to me to be highly symbolic of contemporary Western Society's fear of The Unknown, and it is the child in conditioning's last grapple with the paranormal before the visual cortex is set. It's sad that these last encounters have to be held in a negative light, and then further reinforced with religious mumbo jumbo about Satan and Demons. Don't go there lest you invite the demons in. As if.

In lieu of, children in contemporary Western Civilization are proscribed thoroughly cleanzed and esoteric explanations for The Unknown, i.e. Jesus, God and Satan, The Angels, The Demons, The Trinity, The Saints, and all the rest. Here's your kindly get in it, and stay in it, thank you.

Same goes for Santa as a Tulpas. It's not the Tulpas of the child's choosing, but instead a proscribed anechdote for what's outside the gift wrapped box, or is that inside? In the case of Santa, maybe both?

Dare to break free of and shun these proscriptions without an officially sanctioned replacement, and be prepared to be ostracized and caste out as a freak.

7/09/2006 10:22:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shrub and Richard --

PLEASE, PLEASE exchange e-mail addresses and take this bullshit banter OFFLINE. Your arguments don't add anything to the conversation that Jeff starts and the majority of us want to be part of or at least read.

Some of us may start to believe that the two of you may have been planted by the CIA to hijack productive threads...

Enough is enough. Shape up or ship out.

7/09/2006 12:23:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Give it a rest already, will you? My last post was non-satirical and completely serious, and it has as much merit and credibility as anything anyone else has posted here. Also, you obviously don't speak for everyone, so quit portending that you do.

I'm not in an argument with Richard. I can't and won't speak for him, but I hope he's not in an argument with me. However, that aside, my last post was not directed at him, or with him in mind.

So, my question to you is, are you a CIA spook trying to create a controversy and strife where there is none? Hmmmm.....could be since you're anonymous.

Okay, back to the topic, that my last post addressed, and from which your last post distracted. How about you comment on The Boogeyman and Santa as Tulpas, instead of feigning superiority and solidarity.

Richard, don't let this anonymous punk drive a wedge where none is, or needed. I like what you have to say, and respect your perspective, even though I don't always agree.

7/09/2006 02:26:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

(burhs na darchir) syug yeh

dnal-orrazzib ni
etabrutsam ew
ssem a pu naelc ot

enod lla ,ko
ffej em nab tnod esaelp
tenretni eht no golb tseb eht evah uoy
doom eht nethgil ot 'niyrt tsuj
Qi ynit ym ffo gniwohs yb
rekcep eew dna

elpmis eno si siht
gninrael-nu "nigeb" ot yaw


7/09/2006 03:33:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

O.K. kiddies, it's nap time.

Let the adults speak for awhile now, 'kay?

Otherwise Santa will bring you a lump of coal for dessert.

7/09/2006 07:16:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shrubageddon said -

Is the Boogeyman strictly a Western Phenomenom, or does it cross many cultures? It seems to me to be highly symbolic of contemporary Western Society's fear of The Unknown...

This touches on something I've wondered about for a long time.

There are cultures whose concept of spirits involves almost nothing but goodness and trust. The Pygmies, for example, whose Spirits of the Forest are said to be largely or entirely benign and protective.

There are other cultures whose concept of spirits leans heavily towards the evil and malevolent. Who load the children up with protective amulets and quake in their boots if they have to walk to a neighbor's house after dark.

The question, of course, is how such very different attitudes arise out the same same basic belief system. Is trust or fear of the unknown entirely a reflection of our relationships with nature and with other humans? (In which case, it's no surprise that us Americans lean towards the fear end.) Or is there something deeper to it than that?

7/09/2006 09:49:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

i think the santa/tulpa issue dovetails nicely at this point in the converstion b/c it begs the question: has anyone ever soooo believed in santa that he manifested himself to them as a tulpa? it seems a logical possibility, if one allows for tulpas as a possibility. if not, it would beg the question as to why he didn't--do children secretly KNOW they're being bullshitted and they subconsciously play along? hmmm...

7/09/2006 11:52:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Nope. Fear is for CONTROL only.............. maybe.

7/09/2006 11:52:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Okay, I'm one of the people who posted something about Shrubaggedon and Richard getting their own blog. Let me clarify. I don't have a problem with Shrub, since he's posted a lot before and generally hasn't been a problem. I only have an issue with him arguing with Richard throughout the posts. I have a lower opinion of Richard, although perhaps its because I dislike his POV. However, I don't think picking fights with individual members and getting personal is appropriate; especially since this blog has been relatively free of that crap. And I don't think everything Richard says is bad, it's more the tone and the getting personal, which provokes people into squabbling.

So I apologize to both Shrub and Richard, but I would ask that they not pick at each other on this blog because it's wasteful and silly.

And Richard, death's no big deal because we all face it sooner or later, even if we get our hands on the so-called immortality technology. There's no use fearing the inevitable. And besides, how do we know it's so bad? We find death disturbing because it represents the unknown, because it means saying goodbye to loved ones, and it because much of death is associated with pain and suffering. But without the unknown, there is no excitement and discover, and without pain and suffering, there is no pleasure. Saying goodbye to loved ones is more problematic, but we are lucky to be alive to be able to appreciate loved ones to begin with. They are a gift to us as we are to them. I mean, we could just as easily be incarnated as ants, or not incarnated at all. Does the mountain pine for the parts of itself that erode into the ocean? Probably not.

Anyway, I hope we can get along and have more productive discussions.

7/10/2006 04:08:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Anonymous said...
when putin kissed the wee boy he was trensferring his parasitic the wee boy in years to come ,next russin pres!!!!

10:47 PM

I thought the same thing prior to you posting. I see this event as an Annointment. Tuck this kid's name away for reference, because he very well could be Ordained, assuming we don't blow ourselves up, which is a strong possibility.

7/10/2006 09:32:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The question, of course, is how such very different attitudes arise out the same same basic belief system. Is trust or fear of the unknown entirely a reflection of our relationships with nature and with other humans? (In which case, it's no surprise that us Americans lean towards the fear end.) Or is there something deeper to it than that?

It sounds like soemthing someone could write a book about, and perhaps someone, or several people, already have.

One thing we know for certain, us Americans are very frightened, and we're armed to the hilt to protect us from ourselves. A true lack of introspection creates a disconnect and ultimately a vulnerability that can and is exploited by outside influences.

Thanks for acknowledging my post, Starroute. I empathize with you. I, like yourself, have lived a life on the outside looking in. Both my wife and I consider ourselves "Old Souls." In fact, we have used that very term in our deep discussions related to the topic. It's a Bitter/Sweet fate, though, as you well know.

7/10/2006 09:51:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

jon said...
i think the santa/tulpa issue dovetails nicely at this point in the converstion b/c it begs the question: has anyone ever soooo believed in santa that he manifested himself to them as a tulpa? it seems a logical possibility, if one allows for tulpas as a possibility. if not, it would beg the question as to why he didn't--do children secretly KNOW they're being bullshitted and they subconsciously play along? hmmm...

11:52 PM

Thanks for responding to my post, Jon.

I wonder the same thing, Jon. In fact, my wife and I suspect that our seven year old daughter knows (hell, she has to know, as inquisitive and sharp as she is) yet plays the game, all the same.

Such being the case, it makes upholding the ritual all the more bizarre. And for the record, I have no regrets about being told there was a Santa, when there wasn't one, or carrying on the tradition with my children. I'm merely reconsidering practicing the tradition with my family in light of what we now know. It's very silly to carry out what is otherwise a farce, or charade.

We know couples who are absolute fanatical freaks about the Santa issue. They don't want their children to figure it out until they are well into their teens. I kid you not. That's just screwy.

7/10/2006 10:00:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I asked my good friend the angel who looks over me to come say hello, because I was feeling lonely, and it has been six months since I had a lover. I closed my eyes and he touched my hair. Backwards and down I fell, back into a wedding of childhood memories and French pornography and architecture magazines, and plots and desires that I do not entirely recognize as my own. My guardian angel folded his wings around me, as he often does, and together we awoke, in a glass house, surrounded by a canyon of dense leaves on all sides, the bushes and flowers and vines crowding thick around, the glass house seated in the back of our yard, far far away from any highway or dirt road or the long driveway up, where we made love for hours.

And this was our house, and this was our marriage: all glass houses in the midst of a garden, like the first human parents, unashamed and loving and filled with gratitude.

And he told me a story to titillate me. About a husband and wife, both very beautiful and in love, who had many friends who came to dine and drink at their house. In the garden in back of the main house was the glass house, with curtains one could close all around it so that it was secret. And one day at dusk, when the light was low over the garden and it was hard to see across the lawn, the man invited his friends to stand in the dark of the main house, cocktails in hand, while he returned to the glass house. In the glass house, the man lit a single candle. His friends gazed out with giddy eyes to watch the silhouetted couple kissing passionately. To their great astonishment and rapture, the man knelt began to fellate his wife, eagerly, her head falling back until she was satisfied. When they had finished, the man closed the curtains around the glass house and returned to his friends. They spoke about business and the weather, as if nothing had happened.

He told me a second story. In this story the crowd had gone home, and the curtains were drawn around the glass house. The man and his wife have made love. He talks to her about the action itself, so innocently as to not threaten. The phenomenology of the action and her complicity in an infraction of the boundaries of the body. How is it, he says, that you can make yourself so vulnerable to another person? She replies, this is the nature of all love, but my body metaphorically enacts what is otherwise only evident in theory. Here, safely alone, we can secure that metaphor to our own satisfaction. You will experience vulnerability too, by having compassion for me. We need not be so vulnerable all the time, or so vulnerable with everyone, but here it is safe and good to do so. At this moment, he asks her to close her eyes, and he summons out his best friend, who has been hiding amidst the curtains. The friend takes the wife, and the wife gasps when she opens her eyes. “I am vulnerable too,” says the husband. “He desired you, and I wanted to feel the vulnerability of having you separated from me, if only for a moment. I wanted also to have you understand that your vulnerability is not to me alone, but to all the world; the hurts you suffer are not only my fault, but the fault of whatever touches you in the entire universe.”

As my good friend the angel told me this story, I thought that he was the man and I was the woman. As the story closed, my feelings of delight shifted. I began to feel awkward and annoyed. I closed my mind and went back to my day of work.

The next day after the dream I blushed to remember. How prurient my fantasies are, I protested. Perhaps I need to be cured. Perhaps I need a psychologist to bleed this hedonism out of me.

Oh, shut up, said my good friend the angel. You think you should be ashamed because this information is rich and new, and you can’t figure out what to do with it yet. But even you can’t tell me a single thing that’s wrong with the story I told you.

But the patriarchy! I said. You cribbed the power dynamic from the Story of O, where the woman is a slave to her lover’s abuses. I such pornography, and I’ve worked hard to avoid reacting to it in the range of roles prescribed for my gender.

I only cribbed the vulnerability, not the exploitation, from that silly and clichéd story, he replied. You don’t like exploitation, and it doesn’t titillate you.

What did I like about it? I asked. What was there to like? Why do I like vulnerability, if not to be exploited? Am I suppressing some dark kind of masochism? Angel, this is terrible! What awful places it will take me unless I get rid of it!

Nonsense, he said. You know me well, and I would not tell you things to exploit you. Remember how the Gnostics said that writing was first discovered when a human woman gave herself to an angel? In return he gave her that gift of fixing words for all of time. Only then was it possible to begin law, or history.

I will give you such a gift. Imagine two interpretations. In one, the wife is the human soul, the husband is divine. Vulnerability is the nature of the human soul: vulnerable to death, to experience, to change. The husband can’t follow to every experience; he can’t comfort, he can’t direct or protect. But he can signify in a single action that he understands the nature of the vulnerability, the extent to which he is responsible for inflicting it and exploiting it, and the proper alignment of vulnerability for the sake of learning, connection, and pleasure, that he ultimately intends. They signify this to each other. They are happy. But the husband is not there always: they lead separate lives. The human despairs of connecting and berates the divine for its absence. The husband invites in his friend. He is sure that if the wife can experience such vulnerability safely with another, under the controlled experiment of his own watch, she will learn to be vulnerable to the universe, to accept whatever it gives her, even while holding onto the tragic sadness of the husband’s absence. Whatever she enjoys in this world will vanish. That is the nature of the gift she has accepted. All of the universe: the house, the garden, the world, is a gift to her. But in order to enjoy them she must first accept that she has been betrayed by the very vulnerability that allows her to enjoy them.

Accept another interpretation, he continued. In this story, the woman is divine and the man is a human soul. He wants his friends to see all his joy, to revel in his experience. Like all humans, he longs for their praise and envy. So he commits the unthinkable. He fellates his wife for his friends’ titillation without her knowledge. Were she to know, how betrayed would she feel. She must never know. They must never be allowed to indicate to her their knowledge. Their experiences must be their own, and her experience must be her own. And yet, he has the power to communicate their experiences to each other, without ever actually betraying her or endangering her in their hands. The distance of the lawn, the glass house, the regulations of society: no unkind stranger will ever lay a hand on her, so long as she does not know. So long as he is intent and focused on his task, she will not look up and glare across the lawn at the unlit room in the house where the friends are watching. She will not, effectively, be on stage; she will not perform, and so any of her reactions will be free of the expectations that chain performance to future expectation of reaction. She will remain innocent. Her innocence will protect her from the wanton desires of his friends. They will stay married. They will be happy.

The human soul, I reflected, is both female and male in your stories. It is both the exploited and the exploiter. The universe escapes it and betrays it and causes it to be vulnerable, and it lays bare and exploits the universe. I identify with both the man and the woman in both stories now. If I identify with both, how shall I be exploited in real life, except with my full complicity and consent, except with the possibility of my own advantage?

That is very good, replied the angel. Now you have begun to understand.

7/10/2006 03:33:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

not only do you have parents like that, shrub, but we've all met "adults" who looooove disney/looney tune characters as though they were real and effectively end up deluding themselves into believing some useless fantasy bullshit. (at least, it looks useless from the outside--it probably functions as a very real security blanket of sorts, i.e., when the nightly news gets ugly, they need reassurance that there is still 'innocence' and 'goodness' out there, so they pop in "the little mermaid" or whatever.)

a few years ago i dated a girl whose mother was absolutely nuts about the cinderella story, the disney version. she had--it seemed like--hundreds of the porcelain fingurines; the cinderella watch; she made herself a full-length dress patterned after the one cinderella wore to the ball; once a month, she'd ritualize watching the movie by unplugging the phone and refusing to see anyone... my soon-to-be ex told me her mother had been abused as a girl by her grandmother and that her grandfather had run off early on and so forth. weird thing was, over time the lady had begun telling people that the "truth" of the matter was that her abusive mother was not her real mother but her step-mother and her father had died when she was a little girl and yadda yadda. my ex would later try and correct her mother and she'd always fly off the handle, accusing people of attacking her. she was a nutcase, and her workaholic husband couldn't see that her fantasy-world was a condemnation of his behavior as her husband: he was never there (and he was a pussy, besides) and and she was looking for a "prince charming," something she said on a number of occasions. her fantasy almost ended up destroying the family, i found out later: she'd had a "non-sexual" affair with a man who'd eventually gotten frustrated at her unwillingness to consummate the deal and told her husband. when confronted by her family, she reverted back to the "you're all attacking me!" routine, and probably wound up seeking even more refuge in la-la land.

7/10/2006 03:41:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

In reading the post, and many of the comments, I was reminded of the work of Charles Tart on "consensus trance". Very interesting stuff, particularly as it resonated strongly with my experiences with entheogens.

To paraphrase something he wrote, "Consider the ability of an a hypnotist to alter your thinking; someone you hardly know and only listen to for a short time. Compare that with your parents, how much time they have to form your reality, and the fact that you are absolutely dependent on them." (I've probably misquoted him terribly but the idea is powerful.) This is where the consensus trance gets formed in each of us.

7/10/2006 06:47:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Shrub indigenous Australian people's had the concept of boogeyman well integrated into their culture.

The idea was to keep the kids from travelling too far out of their parents or nursery groups care, but the stories told contained information about the world, and its dangers. Fear was used as a form of control, in that the parents didn't want kids running off to dangerous situations beyond their control.

But there is a lot more to this. For example one particular gulley may be the home of a "clan" of strong breeding group of poisonous snakes. That place gets a reputation quite quickly, and in a practical sense there is a real danger to kids of being taken away. Ie being bitten by a poisonous snake and dying.

There is a lot more to this too, based on an understanding of the land from living in it for a v long time. IE some places may have a certain energy about them. No kids allowed in there without learning how to protect themselves psychicly first.

So the fear and control is there in other cultures too. Just seems to be better integrated into a worldview that the entire culture gets (whats the potential for "tulpa production"/thought form formation with a society that does that?)

There are also real boogeymen, who steal the kidney fat from people while they sleep and stuff. Its a combination of "bad magic" (ie the thing that drives the military occult complex IMO) and vampirism.

When I was young the similar boogeyman we were always warned about was other people, and their propensity for kidnapping children...

Haven't really thought about that for a while, but it adds another interseting layer of speculation...

Chas and Dave sang about a boogie man once too. That might have been different. His name was Mr Boogie...

7/10/2006 07:03:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


Panapyracea – the Antidote to which:

Conspiracy includes within it piracy for sure,
Spell it out in case you doubt it, so begins the cure.
How to get your head above the swirling waters cold?
Take a look and listen to the stories we’ve been told:
Werner von Braun was a fleeing Nazi with a rocket,
Coming down the rat line, paperclip inside his pocket.
Man has landed on the moon and soon will tackle Saturn,
Project Lucifer, and Lucis Trust, would see it burn,
So create a star igniting atmospheric churn,
Then declare the Mahdi, and the antiChrist in turn.
This is what “they” have in store for you, their dreams, their hopes.
Wake up, smell the coffee, now ignore the chattering dopes.
Alex Jones he talks a good game while he lifts your wallet,
Preaching down in Texas like another Rush. Let’s stall it.
How exactly is it that he thinks his words redeem us,
Babbling, swilling beer and smoking – one fat, racist Jesus?
Henry Makow told the truth at first and then dissembled,
Now his theories criticize the very thing resembled.
Looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and wears it’s feathers proudly,
It ain’t what it seems to be, he says, while quacking loudly.
David Icke will fly you to Cloud Cuckoo Lizard Land,
Even though he still doles out some bits of truth in hand.
What about Jeff Wells, the Canuck so obsessed with sex?
Pederast occultists are stacked up upon his decks.
Darkness prowls his website like a thunderhead at dusk,
A Kansas cyclone spinning into nothingness, a husk.
Greg Syzmanski’s Jesuit rap makes me want to puke
The oldest dodge and cover in the book. It is no fluke
All these bozos are as phony as a three cent coin.
Some seem real at first but then the truth they do purloin.
Tell the truth then mix it up with lies – disinformation –
That’s the ticket to the path that misleads every nation.
Global warming is as big a threat as a world war.
It is here, right now, just like old Babylon’s great whore.
Burn that oil, fight that war and kill your neighbor quick,
Else you won’t get what you want for Christmas – it’s so sick.
Give us all your money and your blood, we want it now.
We, the Glory of the Olive, people of the cow.
Heifers red and temples rent asunder in the dust,
Chaos is that which we crave, we’re bent on going bust.
You can stop it, yes you can, and stop it all you must.
Start by knowing where and when, in what to place your trust.
Don’t let anger, rage and folly lead you fast astray,
Knowledge is not wisdom, give up “magic”, better pray.
Seek and ye shall find the truth without which none do live:
God is One but we are many, therefore as we give
Thanks to God we realize to God we must surrender,
To the One Creator, the Sustainer. Never render
Ahriman, the shayatin, the whisperer, the beast,
Dajjal, nor his partners any sustenance, the least.
Starve them of their stock in trade, that’s anger, lust, and greed,
Envy, gluttony, old sloth, and pride, on which they feed.
Just deny them all of it, the air they breathe is sin.
The way the New World Order will be stopped is from within.
Resistance is not futile, but it all depends on how
One decides to manifest it. Better start, like now.
Faith can move a mountain, so can dynamite, D9’s,
All are different aspects of the cosmic egg’s designs.
Choose your path of action wisely, follow it with faith.
Use your mind and heart incisively. There is no wraith,
Nor tulpa, succubi, no ghost nor elf in which to trust –
Demons are just that, it’s all a shit swamp, festering fust.
Somewhere soon or later one will have to face the Real –
Each of us will have to answer for all that we deal.
Wakan Tanka, Yahweh, God, aLlah are a few names
For something that’s infinite and way beyond all games,
And at the same moment present, closer to us than
That through which our life passes, our very jugular vein.
Free will is our blessing and, as well, potential curse,
Using it to make a moral choice yields good from worse.
Leave the words behind, look to your conscience, to your heart –
Listen well to what you ought to know by now, then start
Living it and breathing it, each day and every night.
Lesson one, from way back: No two wrongs will make a right.
Lesson two: The ends can never justify the means.
These are the beginnings of becoming Human beings.
To become a fully human being is a goal
Worthy of each one of us, our true appointed role.
Should enough of us embark upon this mighty task,
No tyrant could ever rule us, no one in a mask
Ever could deceive us long enough to stomp us down.
We would see the lie and undertake to melt the crown
Thrust upon its head by the deceivers of the nations.
Ho. Mitakuye Oyasin. ALL of our relations.


7/10/2006 07:33:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"Fuggin' long, innit?"- Joe Strummer

7/10/2006 09:26:00 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

youth is a dream and the world looms larger in nearly
every way relative to the tiny crown whorl which is
our developing consciousness. We make assumptions and
analyze what we think hear and see, and know only that
level until we are assured of the next, then we dont
go back to the former misconceptions having "learned"
better. Hot water isnt really just water that is so
cold it "feels" hot. That's the kind of thing your
older brother tells you trying to pull your leg and
blow smoke at you. lol Personally many times I wake up
from visions of an old house or building and a
furative search for .. something. Cautious descents
down aging steps, through cobwebs dutifully spun by
thousands of baby spiders of time, no longer present,
their work complete. There's an odor of mycelium and
earth and humidity. That which has been erected, human
intervention's evidences, the house, the floor and
mechanical function slowly returning to what is
natural and unretouched. I see a lad asleep in a
rummaged chair, he's dreaming and there's sweat and
discomfort, the musty fabric of the old chair and the apocral
desperation of his fear comingling, seeping onto each
other, his uneven slumber fraught with mild terror
lending to the unbelievablly impossible apnea. Extended
forgetting then gasping to near consciousness and an
urgency to complete a kind of riddle, the clues to
which are all jumbled. There's a door ajar in the
darkness. An el shaped line of light and color frames
the top and one side and spills onto the back of the
chair, perhaps from a modern room's resplendence or
the outdoors, where the clear bright sky can be viewed
without apprehension, but his head is turned, eyes are
closed. He's frozen and dares not wake, stand and walk
to the light, (though this vignette plays and
replays in his mind over and over), until he knows
what the riddle means, afraid to look from the other
room at what may be the youthful face of something
misguidedly sinister, repulsively weak, and willfully
wrong. Unwilling to be a hand in his own condemnation,
or "learn" it should now be viewed as all for naught
and oh so over. His spirit is innocent he is not. For
his guilt he will die, for his virtue he will live.

7/11/2006 01:24:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Pearls before swine...

Swine after pearls.

7/11/2006 02:06:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I just heard on Conan that Kevin Federline (husband of former mouskateer Britney) is teaming up with Michael Jackson's sketchy, possibly child peddling, father to form a dance company or somesuch. Whatever it is, its pedigree indicates it may go far, or alternatively be used as a front for something unthinkably vile, likely involving young teens....

7/11/2006 03:55:00 AM  
Blogger Sounder said...

All pigs are equal, however some are more equal than others.

The game of synthetic oppositions is over to the extent that the common man recognizes the contrived nature of our psychical conditioning systems.

This is why work done to define and shape the next set of criteria for understanding is both important and inevitable.

7/11/2006 06:44:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

where did i put my keys? i've looked everywhere. oh, here there are in my hand. they must have been there all along.

7/11/2006 10:21:00 PM  
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