Monday, February 20, 2017

Conspiracy theories in my shopping basket


People have problems. Serious problems. They begin with the best of intentions and somewhere along the way they lose the plot. 

Losing the plot is OK. I've lost it countless times myself. This blog is a testimony of having lost the plot repeatedly and thankfully having found it again. I have been delusional, I have been living in dreamland, I've been lost in fantasies because there are times reality honestly sucks. So I'm OK with losing the plot. We all do it from time to time. 

Do you know what's not, under any circumstances OK? Being so certain you know what's happening that you disregard any opinion different than your own. That's not OK. Why?

We live in a world of subjective reality. Reality can't be objective. Every person perceives reality in a different way. For example, some people can't perceive colour. Others are slightly, or completely deaf. Even those lucky female prodigies who can see a few million colours (I'm told they have a mutation of the X chromosome) can't see in infrared or beyond ultraviolet. Even those with superb hearing can't catch infrasounds, or ultrasounds. Just imagine how many colours we can't see, how many sounds we can't hear, how many energy variations we can't perceive. What we can perceive is in effect very little compared to what we can't.

Having said that, and that alone, it's self-explanatory we know fuck all about the world that surrounds us. Practically, we know shit. And that's fine as long as you're aware of it. The problem begins when someone is certain of something to the point of dogmatic bigotry. One would have thought that the fact we know shit about the world we live in would be insurance against such attitudes, but hell no. We behave as if we know everything and we can bet our lives on it. That's where the problem begins.

I steer clear of conspiracy theories because life tends to be more complex and weirder than even the wildest theories. I also despise New Age and feel disgust for those hacks who sell people a one-size-fits-all solution for 399.90 plus P&P. No, realigning your chakras will do nothing to improve your life, unless you get off your ass and DO something. Sorry to disappoint. There's no such thing as a free meal or painless self-improvement. However, being who I am and what I am, I've often had to tread the unhealthy territory of energy-related research. Well, conspiracy theorists lurk there like athlete's foot lurks in sweaty trainers, and I'm sorry to say, they stink twice as much.

I recently started a research in orgonites. Orgonites are a very real thing, because they have nothing to do with spirits, bizarre theories or one's ancestors. They transmute energy. They turn shitty energy into healthy energy and protect from electromagnetic pollution. So I started researching, reading, comparing. Found this guy who knows his orgonites. He makes and sells some amazing items. I was excited, because it seemed too good to be true. And it was. This guy (who's also vegan because meat is killing us and a smoker) is certain that the Reptilians are the ones responsible for people being gay. In addition to that, anyone who isn't Greek and white belongs to an evil conspiracy to turn the world population into a homogeneous soup of (gasp!) mixed races. (Son of a gun, this is some serious shit. I already feel my purely Greek genes and vagina shuddering in fear.) So we must stop the refugees from coming to our country (or going to any country in general) because they are, in reality, the hordes of evil incarnate and the servants of Reptilians.


Um, sorry, what?

Now, you go and buy his orgonites, keeping in mind they contain quartz crystals in them, and quartz crystals absorb information the same way a sponge absorbs water. Quartz can be programmed to keep and transmit information ad infinitum, and what's worse, the orgonite by its very nature re-enforces the transmitted information. So you have this guy who makes amazing orgonites, only to have them buzz like a beehive with his bias, hatred and paranoia. If I made the mistake of buying from him, I'd be sick within hours of receiving his creations, and you can't cleanse orgonites. The quartz crystals are deep inside the matrix of the construction, frozen inside the resin. You can't immerse them in water to cleanse them, you can't help them in any way. The only way to contain the damage is bury the orgonite, and they are fucking expensive to substitute them for carrots in your garden.

How do you say to such a person that for all their technical knowledge and ingenuity they've lost the plot? Answer: you don't. You don't because they will tell you you are a servant of Reptilians (or a person of alien DNA, or a soulless human, or whatever characterisation they give to anyone who challenges their fossilised life theory) and disregard you. Oh, and they will also tell you you aren't open-minded and your intelligence leaves a lot to be desired. Then they'll ride off into the sunset in pursuit of their 'holy' purpose. And damn, I don't even have red hair that I love so much in order to be a soulless human. ;) I have regular, boring brown hair, with shitloads of white in it. 

Do you know why it's OK I lost the plot, but it is not OK they did? Because even during my most self-involved phases, there was always a part of me that reminded me I could be wrong. And I heeded that part. I kept it in mind. It helped me not to take myself too seriously.

PS. One more thing. Most species on this planet evolved into having two sexes. It was done to ensure constant renewal of the gene pool. It's simple biology. Well, some people like people of the same sex, or both sexes, or neither. Let's not turn our sexuality into a moral issue. They're just gonads, you know? Not mystical stuff, space conquest material, a cure for cancer, or an ingenious way to re-disperse wealth. I mean, for the love of fuck. Literally. Get over it.

Saturday, February 11, 2017

The nature of daylight

 
I extend my hand in the twilight. The wind is blowing, the sky a mixture of blue and grey. The clouds travel fast, they rush out of view to other, faraway skies. The pine tree in my garden seems to shine; the lighter green ends of its branches are pale, diffused, in their own way luminescent. Further from the tender end, the foliage is darkening into cypress green and black. The tree slowly bleeds green into the approaching night while black engulfs it more and more, the nests of shadows in it growing, extending, darkening. It's a sight to behold.

The characters inside my head are chatting with each other. Each has a past, a present and a future. How can they not be real, if they have a past and decisions they regret, and mistakes, and people they've loved, and others that have persecuted them? Why are their lives any less important or real than mine and your life? What makes this overrated reality more important than countless others? I guess the answer would be, that's the reality you have at your disposal. But is it?

Can you tell reality apart from dreams? Some dreams I have are so real, so lifelike, that this reality pales in comparison. I've dreamt of the moment I came into being, not this lifetime, not this body. I was floating in a calm, shallow, warm sea, tranquil and fully conscious. Everything was black. There were no stars in the sky, no lights in the sea, because it was not now. There were no lights because there was no universe yet. No suns, nebulae, nothing. I was there and behind me was my mother. Paradoxically enough, or maybe not at all, there was no father. My mother was holding my head in her hands as she was pulling me out of the primordial sea and bringing me into being. Making me, not birthing me. Whole and conscious. Not a baby.

Shamans claim this reality is the dream, while dreams are far more real.
The first sign of shamanic talent in a person is that they start to go mad.
I'm not a shaman. 

This is not real. This reality, this state of being is not real. The pain you experience, the decisions you make, the things you consider important, none of it is real. But this does not make it any less important.

I remember watching my world die. The stars were falling from the sky like rain, moving erratically, burning, and my mother was behind me. I wanted to run, to hide, but where can you hide when the world ends?

Energy is never destroyed, only transmuted into something different. It perpetually changes forms like a little child wearing Halloween costumes, and believing, really believing in their role. Omnia mutantur, nihil interit. Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

The only thing we have is Love.
There is no time, no place but now.
Love.
What an astonishing multitude of boundless worlds you encompass in your infinite wisdom, in your devastating, magnificent totality.
May the Heart, Mother of everything, watch over them tonight.

"The angel Duma's tear, crystalline and clear, filled the vision of each of the onlookers. Reflected in it, they saw mercy, and miracles, and the knowledge that everything that is, has a purpose, and that purpose, somehow, included every one of them... on a deep and personal level."
Neil Gaiman, The Sandman