Harvest Moon

It's the Autumn Equinox, and a full moon. The first time in nearly 20 years they've coincided.

To mark the occasion and respect the feminine principle, I've just booked my flight to visit the water nymphs of Ipanema.
Hi...

I hear the train a comin'

For exactly 10 years now I have been meaning to travel. I came back from a year's travelling in 1999, did a course in London, and meant to go away again. I arrived at Heathrow the day after the solar eclipse, and looking at the newspapers in the newsstands, I could no longer relate to what was going on. I had felt the flow of travel, it had given me strength, and a wit, an optimism and a flexibility which removed me from the herd. At the time I did not know about the Control System, and was a long way from knowing about conspiracies and the deep historical corruptions which powerfully manipulate the minds and souls of all under its umbrella. But I knew something was not right. I also felt it - that there's something out there that is right.

I felt it first whilst deep-sea fishing in South Australia - cracking open a "stubby" whilst heading home at sunset, freshly-caught red snappers in the hold and dolphins following us, sillhouetted against the orange sun.

 Then again whilst cruising in my orange 1976 Holden Kingswood...

... I had been to see the New Year's celebrations in Adelaide. I had met a group of students that night, gone back to their place, sat in their gazebo smoking what can only be called "good shit". On my way back the next day, I was cruising down the Sturt Highway...

... with the windows down, a wide open road, warm winds blowing my hair. I suddenly felt a rush of... emotion. A big feeling, shivers running down my spine, an electricity and what I guess was freedom as an actual emotion. In motion, like an arrow, cruising forwards with the sun blessing everything around me.
Ever since I was never the same, and the experience of travel galvanised me in everything I did for the next decade.
Bear in mind I had come off the back of twenty years of indoctrination. Schooling, universities... that's all I knew. And now I was free.
So it wasn't books, it wasn't thought per se. It wasn't even the beautiful sights I saw - the scuba diving on the Great Barrier reef, the working on vineyards, the vibes of Melbourne. It was the people I met along the way, it was the motion, the constant improvisation, the knowing I could go anywhere, do anything.
In New Zealand I met an amazing, crazy Austrian girl who loved the Pogues and Irish pubs, and we bought a car together and drove around visiting just about every pub we passed in the misty wilderness.

 The Dutch girls in Surfer's Paradise, Dave in Sydney, parachuting onto a beach in Broome, surfing in Bondi,  winning 500 dollars in the Alice Springs casino, and seeing that incredible vortex at the centre of the continent.
Travelling alone, you are forced to confront the bounds of your experience, of your existence. Loneliness bites, so you got to get out there and talk to someone. You've got to have the resources, so you get resourceful. The idea of thought manifestation becomes important. And you always get what you ask for.

So I came back, and always intended to go away again. As soon as... and here's the rub... I had earned enough money.
Yes, I began to worship that false god. But I lived in London. An expensive city at any time. I was living it up and found it almost impossible to save money, espeically since I was still paying off debts.
And I got caught up. Long hours at investment banks, followed by long hours of drinking and whoring. I started to forget that elemental joy, once more.
But that's over. I've been out of work for a while now, as I can't join the slave-force, not now that my third eye has been polished.

Ever since that day of touching down in London, I knew where I really wanted to go next. A mystical land where they play football with magic, with joy.

 A land of beaches and rainforest. The land of samba and the girl from Ipanema.

 A place where "to party" actually means something...

 ... where women are feminine and free...

What's not to love? I've needed some time first to work on myself, change my outlook, do a little deprogramming, a little reprogramming. But that's where I'm headed, and I'm so excited and nervous about the prospect that I can hardly stay still. InMotion is EMotion.

It may be that the place will change in the future. The fact that both the Olympics and the next World Cup are to be hosted there, suggests that it is set to be the next place to be fed upon by the psychic vampires. Indeed it may be that it has been left alone, like a farmer leaves fields fallow in order for them to become fertile once more. Given how barren my homeland has become, how utterly desolate, surely the soul-suckers are going to have to move on. Mission accomplished, nothing left to eat here.

This is conjecture - after all, I haven't been to South America before. I haven't seen it yet. To me it still has that quality of dreams, of exotic smells and hot sun, of smiling beautiful women and dancing and music that comes from the soul. But my intuition has been pulling me there for a long time, and I was held back by... programming.

No one deserves the life that people around here have. It's not even a life - these people are, unfortuately, already dead. They're gonna be going back round the ferris wheel in the next life. Reminds me a bit of a snatched bit of programming from one of the major soap operas in this country, which I overheard as I was passing. Even when you avoid the idiot box its tentacles still reach out to you. One character wanted to go live somewhere else, and the reply was, "what, you think you're too good for us?"
What a statement. Guilt-tripping, implying callousness and delusions of grandeur, ridden with disdain for advancement, for movement, for travel. How about this, mate - we're all too good for this shit. Every one of us. And you can either stay here and wallow in it, or move on. Inside and outside - just move on. Grow. Let the light in, let the light out. Should I stay here and fight the World Order? Loyalty and attachment to a certain nation is some kind of psychic disease. If there was any semblance of community around here, there would be a reason to stay. If my family weren't the dysfunctional set of friendly strangers that the Control System modelled, I may have a heavier heart leaving them. Sure, I could work on myself, get better and better. Broadcast my message far and wide. But I can do that in a beautiful place, too, one that feeds my soul and speeds up my spiritual metabolism.

How to overcome the artificial ego, part 3

Jake is now ready to confront his nemesis. But his nemesis is not Mr D:

Interesting - use your perceived enemy to destroy your real enemy. The only time this is mentioned, so quick you could almost miss it.

The artificial voice is able to call upon false notions of freedom. A bit like, for example, the American constitution, or bill of rights - as if a document that the elites ignore every day is going to give you freedom!

Asking for forgiveness. That's deep.

Where's your pride. Exactly. It's going, going, gone.

Meanwhile Jake has a long sideways look at the serpentine figure.

Now he ventures into the ELevator, where before he feared to tread. He gets to the 13th floor, and begins his trial, the ultimate showdown with his adversary - with the adversary of all of us.
What does 13 resonate?
Number that cleans and purifies.
The number 13 brings the test, the suffering and the death. It symbolizes the death to the matter or to oneself and the birth to the spirit: the passage on a higher level of existence.
For the cabalist, the number 13 is the meaning of the Snake, the dragon, Satan and the murderer. But it is also for Christians the representative number of the Virgin Mary, she whose mission is to crush the head of Satan.

The thirteenth mystery of the Tarot does not have a name. It marks the uncertainty, the hesitation, the fickleness or again a transformation, the end of something (the death) and a renewal, a rupture, that is to say a very important change.
The light goes blue again:

That's right - one of their most horrible tricks - teaching us to fear strangers. New people.

I like the way it takes that old quote from The Usual Suspects, and restates it more accurately.

Is that 3 representations of Isis? Certainly the artificial ego is the one that kicks walls, that goes nuts. That's not us, not the true us.

With that profound realisation, the lights come back on - the white lights, and the golden goddess trinity.

And suddenly, he breathes in and his face changes, his eyes change. The smile of the Buddha, a smile of compassion, the inner smile.

Meanwhile the Devil comes down in his undies...

No longer even humorous, just pathetic. That's just it - Jake has moved to a different game. Changed the rules on what controls him. The Devil is confused, and has no power to hurt Jake. Because Jake does not fear him anymore.

Mr Green then walks through him, almost as if he is not there at all.

So here we've got a crucifixion, while the voiceover talks about killing the Lord.

We discover where Macha's "donation" went. Home for children - that is what we want this world to be. A true home. Not this nightmarish vision implanted into our collective mind.

His heart probably died some time ago, but what he has is a shitload of Pride, which is enjoying the accolades.
Paul says a strange thing, about drums talking.

The drums of the approaching army. Gold's drums. The rythmns, of the natural order. The keepers of time. The drums are saying that Mr D's demise at the hands of Gold is now not far off.

Heh - notice that Will and his daughter are watching TV - that great programmer, that sucker of souls. And what's on the screen? A reptilian eye. Nice touch. To further drive home this notion, when it transpires that he has been betrayed, the only word out of his mouth is:

Gold doesn't give second chances. You've got to get it right, in this life, or you're going to have to start the game again, from scratch.

Mr D goes out to grovel:

Hmm, a cavernous room with a shitload of pyramids, overlooking the city, with an enormous Egyptian figure looming over the Devil.

So the Conscience of the piece has had enough.

The abuse of children by the upper strata of the pyramid is well-known to those who have taken the time to study such matters. It makes sense that the central, crucial target here is a little girl. Reflecting the paedophilia, the degradation of the femine principle, the trauma. "Messing with the little girl's hair" may be an implication of physical or even sexual abuse.

In tthe final pice of the film, Jake goes with Avi and Zach to the casino. The fate of Will is unknown. Macha is surprised that Jake knows about the abduction so soon. But Jake is operating on another level now.

That's the thing about the "sheeple." Consider it a warning. Not everyone is ready to be woken up. If you try to do it too soon, too suddenly, they will destroy you. Thinking they are protecting themselves. Perhaps that's the primary message of the story of Jesus.

Actually, yes. When you wake up more fully, you can start to admire the elegance of the trap, the box, the false game. An awful, strange beauty to it.

Aha - so what are these books. Quantum mechanics. A good gateway for those of a scientific bent to start understanding major spiritual concepts, such as the unity of all things, the holographic idea, magnetism and so on. David Bohm, Michael Talbot et al. And who are the authors of these three books shown here? Banks, Monk, Abbott.
Yes, we get it, guys. The banking gang and the Vatican gang are the opponents, the "smart" ones who put us in their game. The higher representatives of Gold.

And indeed, anyone's journey to gnosis is not going to be easy. You need to be "ready", inside.

Even now, Gold is not dead inside Jake. He's ready to take any tidbits that come his way, he will come again and grow if allowed. Back to the blue Sirian god, reduced to grovelling, in tears, at war with himself.

This, to me, is the sounding of the death knell for the World Order. It's over, finito, jog on. We're not going to be your food anymore, there's a new age coming.

Yes - all 3 eyes. And Jake renounces the second of his sins - greed. he brings Macha the powder and cash. To which Macha notes:

Yes, he is. Just looking, observing, mindful. Like a Zen master. And yet his best friend's daughter has a gun to her head. This is the moment of the film, for me. Just look at his face:

Compassion. Serenity. Which is followed by a quick-as-a-flash sublimal image:

Yup, as Bill Hicks might say: kill yourself. If you're so infected with pride, that's your only way out. Gold is in Macha's head, alive, powerful and kicking. And he has displeased Gold, so he will not live anyway. Time to get back on the merry-go-round in another life, get back on the Revolver.

Bear in mind, Gold still lives by the end of the film. The devil's dead, but the real malevolent force lives on, though we know now we can starve him, we can reduce him to insignificance.

They're really driving the message home. They're saying, we're not messing. Even the ending, devoid of credits, all black, with a piano piece in the background, is saying: take this in. Think about it. Reflect on it. Because you better believe it. Yes, you are in a game. You have a voice in your head that is not you. You have those who would feed on you, especially on your fear, pride, greed and other sins. You must change the rules that control you, move to a more sophisticated game. On your own terms.