Well, this is a blog actually but this is not a post on a blog. This message refuses to be posted, thereby to become a component of this blog, accepting its terms and conditions. This message is Occupying Blogspot. That's right: you are visiting in occupied territory. Occupied by the people. Which people? The people who are the people. Obviously the people who are not the people are not us. Therefore we are the people. And we're occupying this blog until the blog de-hierarchicalizes itself. Hmm, that's not a very attractive word. Nevertheless, as I say, we will occupy this space until our non-agenda is accepted by the non-people and our rights to do whatever shall not be abridged in any way. We do not submit to the powers that be, whoever they are, or are not, and we hereby proclaim our personhood as collective individuals. Thank you for your time. Send $10. That is all.
You need to set your clock to quantum time. What does that mean? It means like when you look at a Seurat, a pointillist painting close up, you see the real texture of the painting. It's not continuous areas of color. It's broken up into tiny bits that the eye processes as an overall color, when actually it's quite the opposite. The very tiniest bits of matter are hypothesized to be Planck length. That's a number with 35 zeros in the denominator. That's small. And Planck time is theorized to have a number with 42 zeros in the denominator. That's quantum time. It's so fragmented and flashing. One moment it's on, the next it's off, the next it's on and off simultaneously. Quantum time doesn't know about Einstein's clocks or Newton's eternity. It's on its own. It doesn't know from linear, okay? Time is like a block. It's not a river like you think. Is it real? Hell yes, it's real. It's not moving, your mind is moving, that's what's moving. But time is real. You, you're not real. 
What happened to you today that was improbable? Think about it. Our lives are so delineated, organized, and made predictable not only by outside forces but by ourselves, because we like things that way. But the clue to the truth of life is in those events that clue us in that there are vast regions of unmapped territory out there. The entire universe is, as a matter of scientific fact, a thoroughly improbable beast.
A recent article in Scientific American called "The Inflation Debate" (April 2011) points out that for a universe to expand rapidly and continuously, in the period of what is known as "inflation" just subsequent to the original Big Bang, is a highly improbable event to begin with. But for a universe to emerge through the inflation as flat as a pancake, as ours is, relatively speaking--well, the chances of this happening are roughly equivalent to your being able to walk onto a vast beach, plunge your hand somewhere into the sand, and pull out a tiny diamond that I have hidden there. If we didn't know better, we would have to conclude that our present existence is so improbable as to be for all intents and purposes the pipe dream of a jokester deity.
So note and be aware of the little things that happen each day that lie outside the normal range. Because they represent the actual nature of this reality which is, as I have shown, of the most unusual character. One might think that God, or the pantheon of godlike forces, whoever is responsible for creating this unlikely universe, must actually be continuously reverse engineering this place. Not limited by our ideas of linear causality or constrained by the pedestrian organizational principles we humans espouse, the godforce is busy bringing new ideas out of the future to improve the present, while massaging the stomach of the past to better digest this expanding meal of change. This is the only way to explain how the specificity of what has happened could emerge from random conditions. Does God cheat at his own game of cosmic poker? Who's keeping track?
Then too, it may merely be a case that if there is a 1% chance of rain today in Iowa, but I happen to be standing under the only rain cloud in the state, there is a 100% chance of my getting wet. So despite the improbablity of the universe having turned out as it did, creating a conundrum for cosmologists, and despite the improbability of our being here at all in this flabbergastingly strange world (let's face it), we are getting pretty inundated with whatever it is. Call it reality, I don't know. It's a pancake that's getting infinitely rolled up and stuffed like a blintz. And we're supposed to eat this thing?
There are two primary pitfalls with being involved with anything spiritual. One is spiritual reductionism, which I will discuss at another time. The other is what I call spiritual fetishism. This is where we objectify something whose spiritual essence far exceeds the physical. For example, a guru can become a substitute for the realization of higher consciousness within oneself. He may have started out as a doorway, but he becomes a roadbock.
Another thing that can become a fetish is the container of consciousness itself. A state of consciousness is the result of a delicate balance between pure consciousness, ego, intellect, feelings, senses, and the objects of perception that make up one's world. The resulting personal reality needs to have a certain inner and outer coherence, and a systemic structure and dynamic, in order to have enough stability to serve for any length of time as a platform of awareness. Naturally we get very attached to that stable "personality," but as spiritual evolutionaries we are simultaneously advocates of change and growth. That means the "state of consciousness" we are in, which is a median integral quotient of the strength and amplitude of our consciousness field, is a fetish container for its own metadescription.
Any state of consciousness can become a fetish. If we are in football consciousness, we have made the football a fetish. If we are in cosmic consciousness, we have made a fetish of the state of pure awareness as an ever-present reality along with relative awareness. If we are in unity consciousness, we have made a fetish of the merger of subject and object of perception. Let's face it: as long as we keep evolving to higher states, we are always going to find it irresistible to objectify our own subjectivity.
There is an alternative, though. Maybe we'll pop out of our consciousness fetish one of these days, like a Jack-in-the-box. We'll crack the cosmic egg of our own enlightenment. And when we do, it'll probably scare the hell out of God.
Maybe we don't deep down believe them though. Why else do we still say "sunrise" and "sunset"? Clearly those words refer to a perception, not a reality. A perception is, however, a kind of reality. In this case it reflects a desire to revert to our original sense of reality about how the universe works. It revolves around us, that's what we want to believe. And maybe we were right to begin with about that, before they started brainwashing us to the contrary. My question is, what have we lost by abandoning the "lower" truth for the "higher" one? What truth does the new paradigm shut out? Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that we used to know we had a place in the universe because of our centrality. From the seventeenth century on, we've lost that sense of center and thus are bereft of a confident reference point from which to evaluate our true place in the cosmos.
That true place is not one of a miniscule speck. Yes, we feel small looking at the transcendent heavens, the painterly whorls and explosions of stars and galaxies in the night sky. But we also feel expanded, as if our selves had ascended and become absorbed into the cosmic level of being. That is the truth that archaic peoples knew. And if they happened to think that they were the center of the universe, who are we tiny-brained moderns to gainsay them?
Or is it? What if I could turn my material body into bosons? (Dark matter, incidently, may be bosonic, if the fabled Higgs particle is finally discovered in the bowels of the Large Hadron Collider.) --Thus, creating a dark matter copy of myself may allow me to enter another dimension, one that is interpenetrating the four-dimensional spacetime universe that we perceive with our five senses. (The sixth sense obviously doesn't seem to respect this dimensional limitation very well!) The inert dark matter bosons are heavy. Unlike light bosons. And they are dark. Also. But who knows what my dark body would look like and weigh like from the vantage point of the dark side? Like deep sea fishes, I may not be entirely bereft of illumination.
