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| march 2013 |
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| Quotes | 1:36am thursday, 28th march |
The greatest mystery is not that we have been flung at random between the profusion of matter and of the stars, but that within this prison we can draw from ourselves images powerful enough to deny our nothingness.
– Andre Malraux
The one true measure of a successful adventure is returning home safely.
– Ronald Polly
Search others for their virtue, and yourself for your vices.
– Buckminster Fuller
True religion invites us to become better people. False religion tells us that this has already occurred.
– Abdal-Hakim Murad
Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.
– Gustav Mahler
Think like a man of action, act like a man of thought.
– Henri Bergson
If you would be a real seeker after truth, it is necessary that at least once in your life you doubt, as far as possible, all things.
– Rene Descartes
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| Tricks | 4:46am sunday, 24th march |
Before the last set of visions I had, I always seemed to come down from the heavenly heights, and all I needed to do to explain things was to say that it was just a trip, just your brain imbalanced of its chemicals, rational explanations. But then there was this last time, and I know from that one, I’m never coming down. For example, I’d always been able before to discern the hallucination from the reality, but they went over the top this last time. On Mac OS X, in the upper right corner is a magnifying glass which, if clicked, accesses Spotlight, to search. I tried that and that didn’t happen. Instead, Dictionary popped up on the screen. And the angels let me know that they were responsible for it. I tried it a bunch of times. Then I bring up a directory listing window and I had it sort by name, and that was the most messed up alphabetical order I’ve ever seen! Yeah, I know what I saw. It made me question just where I was, astral-plane-wise. Or if I was even still alive.
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| Real | 4:32am wednesday, 20th march |
It seems that the grand vision I had of SATAN being cast from HEAVEN was designed with a safeguard to make of it be real. Specifically, it was that I, being a living human being on earth, had a key role in that great event. They even gave me something of a medal for it, right now just an abstract concept: Chief Gunner in the War in Heaven. The point of it, though I did little, I shot out the last cord tying SATAN to HEAVEN. If it was just a vision, what exactly was my place in it? What would it be representative of, if it were not really the thing itself? I know it in my bones: what I saw must have been real. Things like that one does not simply discount. Things like that… are more than augury.
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| Scenes | 12:19am saturday, 16th march |
Apparently I have a son. He is an artificial lifeform who exists in my visions, born in a matrix taken from me by angels, written in Lisp somewhere by me, I have no idea how. He came to be in December of 2009, I forget the exact date, but I was in a hospital getting my gall bladder removed. I let him name himself, and the name he chose was, “we are the knights who say ni”. Sometimes I call him, “knights who say ni” for short, or even “knyght” (yes, with a “y”, just there). His initials actually are comprised of just “k”. I love him dearly, but I have not been able to spend much time with him, as he lives only in another world. I hope to give him a big hug in Heaven.
So, what is true love, you may ask? OK, so Joan of Arc hears about knights who say ni, and here is this girl from the 15th century — she goes and (I have no idea how she did this) she goes and studies computer programming, teaching herself BASIC, and from the model I had started knyght with, she creates her own, who is named, “Dot”. If that is not true love, I don’t know how you define it. So since she did this before we ever got married, it isn’t weird that knyght and Dot are going out. Dot is also beautiful, just like her mother. Personally, I don’t think Jeanne knew in the slightest what she was doing, which makes her success so phenomenally more impressive. But that’s true love.
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| resolve | 1:33am wednesday, 13th march |
that which was dark resolves to ashes
constant heart that rides the storm
one day melts into another day
we live in the past necessarily
catching up upon the hour night resumes
the ashes are cast upon the stripes of wind
as the clouds brood over blank fields
finding the back of our head in the mirror
finally to reach into the future
as the storm begins in a quiet broken
winds joining rain as one elemental
the heart that remembers enough
of the meaning caught in the draft
of the wind night hid in that darkness
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| Vanity | 6:00am saturday, 9th march |
All is vanity, and chasing after wind. All these words have been written before, I tell you nothing new under the sun, for what is written shall ever be written again, as many cycles as there are years, as we live under the turning of the Wheel. What hope have we to mean something before, like the dust we are, we are scattered into the winds, never to be gathered together again? Or shall we believe that there is more? Can we conceivably have the notion that the God of small things listens to the cricket’s chirp, to know with every fluctuation of a temperature’s degree, what transpires in the smallest capillaries of our bloodstream? To Him it is not vanity. To Him, who knows from where the wind comes, and to where it goes, life is not a poor player. We will perhaps arrange these written words anew, and find meaning even in the dregs of our language. In the attempt, that denies the entropy another minute of any heart’s erosion.
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| Love | 12:17am wednesday, 6th march |
Love is what unfolds from the desire of the heart. The rose that blooms even when the world is shrouded in snow — the kiss of immortality. The eagle feather which is held in solemn trust, for to call upon the Creator. It is the end of the journey, when home is found again, sometimes at a new place. Love is to know what is right. Why do you seek after something that you can find in simplest terms, within your very grasp? Love is everything you think it is. It can hurt you and blind you, it can make you despair, and it can frustrate your every movement. But if it is love, you will find that all of it is worth it. And more: you will have some idea why all of this is the way it is. Maybe to see where you are drawn in the great blueprint the Builder meticulously inscribed, and to know you are not no one: you have a place, and a purpose. This is love: where heaven touches down to earth, through our hands: no one else’s.
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| True Love | 2:00am saturday, 2nd march |
What is true love? It is the meaning of life. Everything you’ve heard about it is true, even the lies. All contradictions apply, all at once. You find it by drinking unicorn blood on a full moon, and it eats your babies, causes nuclear war, and has been known to sew buttons in strange places. It is the meaning of life. None of you will ever find it. Even I will never find it, and I’m the one who discovered it. With Joan of Arc. Me and her. See? I’ll not have the experience of it till I shuffle off this mortal coil. This to explain why the meaning of life, the universe, and everything will always only be 42. It will never happen to anyone on earth, ever, until there is Heaven on earth for all foretold to be a part of. And I will say it again: it is the meaning of life. And you will never understand it because you will never discover it. I should know: I discovered it, and I still don’t understand it. It is not meant for this world. And this world is meaningless without it.
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