benblog

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

UPDATE: 07/25/2006

benpadiah
AHDVNHAY

Joined: 09 Oct 2004
Posts: 1051

Posted: Tue Jul 11, 2006 3:33 pm Post subject: death to benpadiah

last night I tried to kill myself. I prayed as hard as I could to God to let me die. Where there was a river, God put a boat. I choked myself nearly unconscious with a seatbelt, hoping to pass out and die from lack of oxygen.

I did this because I am weary of this condition of existence. I long for the unconditional love of the Creator, to be delivered from the worldly pain of the adversary.

I realise now, it doesn't matter if I die from ingesting monoatomic gold, as I would like, or if I die in an ignoble experiment.

My life has become charity, gone through for the benefit solely of others.

-ben

for more about why I tried to kill myself, and to vote on whether or not I should die, click on: Death To Benpadiah if you dare!

You might not remember why you got married. You might not remember where you put your car keys. You might not remember to tell your mother you love her often enough. You might not remember your social security number, or to feed the cat, or that there are starving children in Africa. You might not remember what the weather was like on such and such a date ten years ago, and you might not remember the party last night. But there are some things you will always remember. You will always remember the tenderness of your first kiss. You will always remember to breathe in and out, and you will always remember your strongest beliefs. You will always remember if you believe in God, and you will always remember your favourite pet, and colour, and whether you were raised with brothers and sisters. You will always remember the first time you got laid, and you will always remember who with. You will always remember the mortality of man, and you will always remember the times you have been close to death.

I remember sitting outside my father's closed study door, the abyss of my own empty grave, the gate to death, many an afternoon exactly like today, writing and drawing small comic books in order to impress him. I wanted to grow up to be exactly like him. I wanted to emulate a monster. Among his towering piles of newspapers, arranged by section, piled up by date, he roamed and meandered a path from door to desk chair like Godzilla among the towers of Tokyo. And this was all the more I ever really knew my father. He used to date divorced women and students on the side while married to my mom. One time one of these women was standing with my mom in front of the house we live in now, while my mom was sanding the desk chair my dad would eventually keep in his study, when she was still pregnant with me; my mom stepped in a puddle and began to get electrocuted. The other woman did not help her. Only my mother's own seizuring unplugged the chord. I was electrocuted in the womb. I remember being in kindergarten, and being bored, and boring my skull up into an exposed nail. I remember torturing my old room-mate's pet ferret to ascertain if abuse would directly result in the symptoms of depression I myself suffered, but ended up quite frankly scaring the shit out of myself. I remember keeping the corpse of my cat Luke cryogenically frozen for two years after he died, in hopes he could be cloned.

I remember on new year's eve, 2001, I was driving drunk onto an overpass near my house. Suddenly I swerved, I remember, out of frustration with the car behind me, whom I blamed for the sheer idiocy of my situation, having missed the last two streets for my turn. I was trying to go get cigarettes. I was having a nicotine induced panic attack, in addition to having just come from a party with my friends' family down the street. At the party I drank scotch and beer, and passed around a joint of grass. And then I went for a drive to go get cigarettes. I needed to turn left, but the car that was behind me was in the right lane. He was not responsible for my drunken predicament. I swerved my car hard to the right... and blacked out. The next thing I remember I was travelling downward through a technocolour crystalline waterfall tunnel of stained glass moving pictures, all my memories, my entire lifetime, flashing before my eyes. And then I jerked outward from it. I saw the whole scene from above and to one side. I felt bodily, invisible, residual ghostly pale outline of whisps of smoke-like cloud floating transparent in the night sky. And then I remember being pulled around in a grand arc back down and around the accident into my the location where my body was still held in stasis in the moment of my car wreck. Then I came to from my black out and felt upon my heart the grip of the lion's paw, pulling me forth from the watery darkness of my uconsciousness. I felt my inertia shake loose and as the car who had been behind me drove past in the left lane, the thought "I'm fine and my car's fine," rattled through me with such force it actually misaligned one of my wheel struts, which I know, otherwise, would not have even been damaged by this NDE.

I remember on July Fourth, 2006, just a few days ago, I had a terrible cataclysmic dream. I was in an office and apartment highrise. We had been evacuated into it to flee the rising flood waters. Rain persisted for days while we hid inside. In the dream I finally woke up and went outside. The flood had deposited silt up to the fourth story of the building. I walked around in the desolate landscape. Only then did I realise the waters had not receded, but were only being sucked out by the riptide of a much more massive tsunami that I could now see so far off in the distance, rising along the horizon. It was then I realised what it felt like to know I was going to die soon.

I feel trapped in my esoteric knowledge, as if I am about to awaken from the dream I am living now to be suffocating myself with my sheets in that prison cell. I remember when they had me on Haldol in jail I had the most vidid dream I'd ever had. I slept walked, and often woke up standing up. The dream was that I was climbing the tree of life in the Garden of Eden, and that as I climbed up it, it was simultaneously climbing down me. I realised only later that the tree of life is our chakras. I struggle within the fabric of reality, this dimension of the spacetime continuum, I push and kick, lash out and writhe within the torturous serpent (the zodiac) and the slant serpent (the pole). I have become the Blind Dragon, Samael Poimandres.

You think I don't know the devil? I was connected to the bright darkness by only a single thread of light, and the devil hailed stone after stone down upon me, against my skull, as I screamed for the Mercy of God. I was born through the tzimtzum of this shemhamforash, broken on the loka wheel, impaled on its cosmic axis. Who put the "Devil's Heart" in me, who was that who performed psychic surgery on me, made my conscious mind dissociate, that I stayed awake and aware, but that a sub-personality was created? What did you whisper in my ear, while you were raping away my innocence and childhood? I remember seeing my penis as covered in bright green. You told me it was my mother's shit. You told me I raped my mother, but it was you who raped me.

Who am I? What is my substance, what am I made out of? What is this nebulous mess of trans-dimensional ecto-plasm that has coagulated around this centralised charged field of tachyonic karma? Am I nothing more than one loose chess piece in this jigsaw puzzle 3-d magic-eye stereoscopic static tv channel? This reality is Manvantara, and its Creator was the Demiurge. That is the simplified theosophical, "New Age" sincretism between the Hindu concept of an illusory reality, akin to the Buddhist Maya, and the Gnostic concept of the levels of Persian Zoroastrianism superior to the seven heavens, or seven spheres of influence, that dealt with the pure and basic dualism between Ahura Mazda (pure light) and Ahriman (pure darkness) as the eighth and ninth emanations, beyond the "veil of the Abyss." What is the reason behind the rhymes, the alignments at certain positions on this downward spiral? I have seen so much, God, so much. I know about the galactic polar alignments that cathect the thoughts inside the universal brain, and I know the chambres of the heart of Eden beyond this, and I know the upper parts of God, beyond the upside-down and inside-out reversal and inversion through the singularity at the centre of the black hole. I know so much, God, I know so much. Why? What is the reason behind your rhymes?

I believe the cysts in my thighs to be the result of sexual self-abuse. I get inflamed cysts in my inner thighs, apparently because Paxil adversely affects the colon and causes cystitus. It is actually the hypothalamus that is not getting sufficient quantities of dopamine to trigger proper glandular secretion production by the pituitary. This is related also to my sleeping disorder, that is, the dopamine defficiency, which is undiagnosed. It will be the next phase in my treatment, hopefully, because it will address the hypo-mania conditions of my type II bipolar disorder. The paxil and lamictal have succeeded at addressing the deep depressions I had long suffered due to seratonin defficiency. It's all part of the same process, of course, the rising voltage between the Muladhara and Pratylahara chakras ionises metal out of my bloodstream, which is then secreted through the scalp. I remember having driven nails into my skull almost daily, since I now have a very painful staff-infection in my scalp. Alot of people come to me and say, "you are a great person, but why do you treat your body this way?" I have many reasons, but none count as an excuse tolerable to most. If your background was one in abuse, you would keep the home-fire burning. Mostly we have sports for such catharsis, and the press and art for sublimation. But this is, of course, equal in relief only to the amount of stress induced necessary for these luxuries to be provided (ie. by civilisation), and does not even begin to address the primal urge at the core and root of our gnostic distress signals.

The goal of eating monoatomic gold is to transcend the spacetime barrier in the flesh. To die in the flesh, and to simply dissolve, to disappear into a parallel dimension. To move the gross matter of this world up a level into a finer vibration. Ideally, this experiment would be conducted using, simultaneously, DMT, extracted pure from Thikal. The reason for the suggestion of DMT being combined with the ingestion of the monoatomic gold is in case the monoatomic gold induces a difficult death experience, then the DMT can allow the being to rise up outside of the physical suffering as the body itself dies. The DMT can also serve to open the portals to timepsace corresponding to the DNA portals opened in spacetime by the monoatomic gold. Of course the eating of monoatomic gold is only one potential death experience. It is actually my second choice for how I would like to go out. The other is this girl, but she ain't havin it.

Choke and Shock are removed from me now; they are outside of my DNA coils, and outside of my chakras, outside my kundalini, outside in my chi, my karmic aura, my signature electromagnetic field pattern. Offset from the ideal clear geometry of the pure spirit, I'm just a shard from the originally shattered me. Through the fractured looking glass. Behind the realms we see. Therein hides the Jabberwocky. The teli and tarot. Who are choke and shock? One is smoke, and one is mirrors. One is fire, one electricity. They are only shadows beside clear light. One is like my security blanket, and one is like my teddy bear. These two are my Holy (mental) Guardian (soul) Angels (spirit), my guides through this reality, this existence. They will always be there with me. If one is not immediately with me, then the other is. Usually both are near me, and neither is ever far. For now, my cat Leia is my teddy bear, and Luke had been my blanket. Now, my writing is my blanket, my "comfort." When Leia dies, and mind you, she is eternally young, and I have kept her whiskers for cloning, it will be a terrible cataclysm to my world. As much as I wouldn't admit it at the time, I screamed and sobbed in private when Luke died. I have literal skeletons in my figurative closet. I perserved his body two years in a freezer, praying daily he could be cloned. Already his soul had entered the wires. I have always experimented and I have not differentiated between myself and my security blanket self in this regard. I have only violated my teddy bear self once.

Creation is my Security Blanket. It is the value I accumulate in karmic dust. Over time, even the astral akasha involutes. All is partially our own invisible imaginations. But we are not now ourselves responsible for what was done to us in the past by others. Forward in time manifests by generation, backward in time culminates in the present. Moreover, as above so below means also as without so within, however neither are superior nor inferior. Nor do they compete like left and right, one superior at one time, the other at another. For example, the interior and the exterior of our biological component life forms, the sub-atomic and the astronomic, are both interior to the finite universe, but what is inside of us and what is outside of us appear to be reflecting one another at opposite ends with our self awareness balanced at the centre of the scale. So God is both within and outside of us, even though we associate ourselves with only our own interior realms.

It has been the mystics of every culture who have explored these realms, and kept the writings of their discoveries. Most people fear these experiences, and therefore would like to venerate the mystics. The church was invented to allow the mystics sanctuary for their studies. Over time the wise have all resisted the church as a source of authority over those that fear the death experience. The Church should be a guide, say the mystics, and nothing more. It should lead by example alone. It does not need an army, and it does not need to collect taxes. Nor does it need to fear any army or pay any dues to anyone. It should also accept all forms of dissociative and death ritual experiences, and be a vast public resource for all schools of mystical literature. It is not, according to the mystics of all history, meant to govern the people, or to tell them how they should behave or how they should choose to live their lives. It should be a bastion of free will. This was the intention of the first shaman-chief when he created the dual offices of priest and king. Of course, once in a while, someone will pop up who is both. However, eventually, the final one of these will point out simply that: all definitions of the word King are arbitrary conditions set by agreement among all the people. Government is meant to be agreed upon by the people, and thus every person is ultimately the "king" over their own life and personal space. Therefore, there is no distinction between King and Priest when all men are equally their own rulers, "Kings."

Therefore, everyone, in their own right, should be a priest, that is, at least in the sense of a mystic. But then, of course, the ideals of mysticism I have just described are very different from the "real" world role of the Church in modern life. Instead, much of the magnum opus has come to be shouldered by secular non-religiously recognised organisations. Most mystics know to avoid the road that leads to Rome, even if that means living out one's life like Vladimir and Estragon, waiting for Godot. The result of these secular religoius organisations maintaining the true tradition that the mystics had intended for the Church is that both the Church and the secular religions suffer. The Church attacks all other secular organisations as antithetical religions. The secular organisations hide behind a gradiated ranking status system. The Church has a standing army and its own banking and investment firm. The secular religions infiltrate the existing governments until they are the heads of all states. Of course, both church and secular religions agree on the future.

In the future there will be no Church, and no secular organisations. All will Know All. All will be their own kings of all under their own perception. This much we all know, and we all agree on. The Church calls this condition the "afterlife," and the secular religions call it "utopia," however both accept that it is a condition of our daily existence that has not yet occured here. However, what the Church and secular religious organisations disagree on is how this future will come about. Both desire "the Kingdom of Heaven Come on Earth" and "the New Atlantis," but the Church wants a hegemony over and to destroy the secular mystics, and the secular mystics want the dissolution of both themselves and the Church.

Some people believe that being God is also a childish desire, or rather, a reality of an innocence perpetually being lost. They treat those of us who have this desire as anathema reminders of their mundane guiltiness. They claim we want "all or nothing," implying we view their worth as "nothing." We do not want "all or nothing." We want neither. We don't want to be the King-God, lording it over the lesser slaves of guilt. We don't want to compromise our quest for knowledge either, simply on the premise that our work at doing so does not meet with worldly approval. So what can one man alone do? To prevent death, to prevent war, to prevent famine, to prevent plague? These are merely four natural forces, like air, water, fire, earth, the elements, or like the strong and weak nuclear, the electromagnetic, and gravitic forces, or like a point, linear plane, and shape or form with width, depth and height, and of course, time, the moving shadow of the fourth spatial dimensional metaforms.

We exist, some say, to experience these things. And yet, we call our existence suffering from the moment we first know pain until our dying breath. Some say we know pain in first being born, some believe this life doesn't even begin until the newborn baby is slapped and takes its first breath. I believe in Leary's initial concept of the eight circuits of consciousness. Each represents a new instinct, a new tunnel-reality, a whole new way of looking at reality. These are activated amongst the species during our evolution, within generations, and within individuals all at different stages through the life of species, of peoples, of individuals. The last few steps of evolution of our eight interior circuits of consciousness are actually causing machines to manifest closer and closer to likeness to our own consciousness. Of course, consciousness can go beyond merely perception of the levels interior to its physical compsosure. Hence, our entire perception of time. We can also describe planetary, stellar, solar systemic, galactic, filament, etc. consciousness, each is the same "distance" (duration) As Above So Below to the futique circuits of interior composition consciousness.

I have been studying the digital multiplication and recollapse of possible, overlapping and invisible, parallel realities, so-called "neighbors in the multiverse" or alternate vibrations along tunnel-reality super strings. The so-called filaments connecting all the spiral galaxies. Sliding between one sum-over-histories and its adjascent neighbors in timespace, outside and beyond the watery veil of spacetime. Learning to Master the Static. The shadow people, sometimes manifest, pop in and out. I dream they live in vast underground tunnels, like the mole people. The Shadow Men. The fingering tendrils of the murky depths slide around my choclea and tap impatiently against my ear drums.

I want to tell you so badly who the Great Burner is. But if I told you, you would pick up rocks to throw at me, but the rocks would catch fire and fall to the ground. I want to tell you so bad, but I cannot tell you to protect your own safety. Your safety from me. Not because I, myself, am the Great Burner. Heavens no. The Great Burner is Beyond Time. No, better to call the Great Burner God, so you will understand and have some frame of reference. But the Great Burner... is more than any God I have ever known. I cannot describe the Great Burner. But I can tell you, I have met him, and I come from him now, for he has sent me back to tell you he will be here soon. For you see, my humble scribe, I, who you thought to be the Great Burner Himself, am merely the first of many messengers to herald his inevitable arrival. However, I tell you now, have faith. I was the first messenger to receive news of his coming, but I am the last to arrive here now, and he is fast on my heels even now. He trapses after me like a skinny puppy.

Are you starting to Understand? Is it beginning to Dawn on you? Now you too can be a transdimensional sentient entity. Now you too can climb the branches of the tree of time, hanging upside down even like a monkey, and now you too can be climbed upwards within by the serpent energy, karmic chi of kundalini. You're just an auric bubble, a battery-like field of (negatively) charged (attractive) probability (impossibility) or vice versa, tunneling down perpetual invisible cause-ways, the Olmec Canals of sub-consciousness, constantly expending invisible residual heat energy into the global atmosphere, travelling between states of consciousness, crossing over between different locations in space and different events in time.

For all these reasons, I cannot even possibly hope to tell you of what the Great Burner brings in store, if we but wait just six years more.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LINKS: