Mortal Recoil

If you are an immortal being living through a succession of mortal lifetimes, why can’t you remember your past? If we’re all in control of our own destinies, how and why have we decided to forget?
            Where do you go when you’re asleep? How do you ‘go to sleep’? Are you the same person when you wake up? Can you remember who you were yesterday? How much of your own childhood do you remember? How much of last month – last year?  
Have you ever experienced anything you wanted to forget? Have you ever wished you could start your life all over – with a blank slate?
If I want to remember my previous lives, I must explore memory itself to pass through the waters of forgetfulness and reach the dawn of illumination. I must expand and refine my recollections of this life, sorting truth from accretion and memory from fantasy. I must divine for truth as a dowser divines for hidden water or minerals.
I must learn how to tell truth from falsehood, illusion and self-delusion – and continually practice this art, by being my harshest critic and taskmaster and my most compassionate mentor and friend. I must develop a very sensitive bullshit detector and an expansive sense of empathy for the blind sleepwalkers all around me.
I can’t expect the world to make much impression on me if I’m living a half-waking dream all my life – if the reality revealed by my senses is always passing me by, drowned out by the incessant commentary always running through my mind. I have to be certain I’m awake to know I’m not dreaming a vivid fantasy.
            I have to be here now if I want to actually experience my life. I have to be mindful of what’s really happening inside me and all around me. To do that, I have to stop my thoughts, or alternately separate my self from the eternal chatter of the surface veneer of my identity - the acculturated monkey mind and emotions that have grown with me since I was swimming in my mother’s womb.
I have to find a deeper wellspring within, beyond the unending entertainments that distract me from life itself. I have to silence the chatter or remove myself from its internal influence, by locating my self in the centre of the eternal cyclone of thought and emotion.
I have to know who it is who goes to sleep and wakes up every night and every day.
            I have to know the true meaning of the word ‘meditation’, which has nothing whatever to do with thinking. I have to find out who it is that’s doing all the thinking – or being distracted by it!
            I have to open my mind to all the things that the purblind natives of this dawning New Millennium deny and exclude from their blinkered tunneled visions – the realities filtered out by hidebound neo-feudal cultures that stubbornly refuse to observe anomalies, discrepancies and outright disproof of their common beliefs and quaint ‘scientific’ notions.
            If I want to have a life I have to walk away from the screen when I finish reading this and explore reality – if my memory span extends that far!
 If I am not the sum of my thoughts, beliefs, habits and culture, then what am I? What is within me that survives to carry on?
            Am I a projection into this four dimensional TimeSpace, a partial expression of an expanded being, who simultaneously dwells throughout many other dimensions as well? Am I part of something and someone that dwells in all the hyperspaces and parallel continua that we know exist (in implicate, interconnected conjunction with the reality we can see, hear, feel, smell and taste with our terrestrial time-bound senses), from the observations of physics and the realities implicit in geometry? And from the subtle magic of synchronicity and coincidence…
When you realise your mind isn’t yours and your consciousness isn’t confined to the cave of your skull, it’s easy to see how an apparently finite, mortal, death-bound being could in fact be a virtual extension of something else entirely. You can access all these realms and dimensions by expanding y/our consciousness. And paradoxically, this is facilitated by concentrating on the smallest things – or nothing at all.
Staying alive and aware is a continual weaning process. Potty training only ends in infancy in primitive societies full of throwaway people with short lives and attention spans, whose purpose is simply to maintain a dreaming gene-pool. Gaining complete control of your breathing, digestive system, heartbeat, brain activity, fertility and all other physical parameters is well within the capabilities of most children. It’s the way out of the matrix.
Almost all those who could have taught us how to escape the prisons of our cultures by exploring our own nature were burned at the stake or stoned to death by our superstitious grandparents or forebears – but the techniques are implicit in the forms and functions of our bodies; a true seeker will always find a way, and will be helped along by the indivisible invisible hands of those who’ve preceded you, if your mind and heart are in the right place. In a universe where memory is truly ineradicable, lost techniques and memories can be recovered and resurrected.
In our primitive superstition-ridden cultures of the early New Millennium - in which people are automatically taught to be suspicious and afraid of their own bodies and sexuality – most humans don’t even know where their physical organs are located after a decade of ‘education’. How can we expect to have any idea of what we are when we’re encouraged not to look at (or touch) our selves or each other? How can we find our true nature (or even nature itself) if we allow ourselves to be continually distracted by bullshit and melodrama? Will we find ourselves in a sitcom or ‘reality’ show? Do clothes make the woman? How’s the attention span going?
If you want to be cleansed of unpleasant memories or the pitiful painful results of an unexamined life and self-destructive lifestyle, an easy way is to cut off all your sensory inputs. You can do this by staying in a sensory deprivation chamber, by taking opiates, by going to sleep or by dying. If you remain in a sensory deprivation chamber for a couple of weeks your mind will be washed clean – unless you’re particularly adept at meditation - and a womb makes an excellent sensory deprivation chamber, washing you in the warm waters of forgetfulness for months.
            Some philosophers suggest that if people knew they were immortal, we’d all automatically be aware of the laws of karma and dharma and practice the Golden Rule. But immortality is no impediment to free will. We all have many of the same motivations to be creative, honourable and compassionate or cruel, uncaring and destructive, whether we have a small single life or a big multiplex one. Regardless of whether you’re immortal or not, the same ethical questions apply; and either way, you can’t leave yourself behind and wherever you go, there you are, for as long as you are you. It’s an excellent motivation for changing the things in yourself you aren’t comfortable with – and a terrible lesson for would-be suicides.
            In the folklore of forgetfulness, the amnesiac is compelled to relive aspects of the events they have forgotten; he who forgets the lessons of his story is condemned to repeat them. Until full waking memory relinks the past with the future, the amnesiac is trapped in a cycle of repetition – and hell is often defined as repetition.
            Yet immortality provides a wider and deeper perspective into the connectedness of all things and beings, and this does make a fundamental difference to our beliefs, motives and actions. In the absolute centre of the cyclone, I am you, and we are Divine.
Who are you again? Are you distracted yet? What’s that over there?

Your parents and grandparents were happy and satisfied to be lied to and cheated by those who still get away with stealing the wealth and knowledge of the Earth (and everywhere else) for themselves – are you?
Turn on. Tune in. Opt OUT! Find like-minded friends and work with them to free the world and free our Mind…

-         R.A.
-         See
New Illuminati
Her(m)etic Hermit
The Prince of Centraxis
Save the World from RamPage
TimeSpace