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I really like this homilie from Valentinus:


From the very beginning have you been immortal and children of life - such life as the aeons enjoy; yet would you have death shared among you, to spend and lavish it, so that death might die in you and by your hands; for inasmuch as you dissolve the world and are not dissolved yourselves, you are lords of all creation and destruction. ​
 
Meditating on a recent DMT experience, just for fun I decided to write, even though words in relation to the experience are silly:


Words wrapped, splitting in two, locused within my focus, dreams spill forth upon my dividing eyes, a smile cracked, spewing forth this incandescent radiance, temples piling forth falling into oblivion, surrounding me at every angle, tumbling forth upon the skies of my interior, hypervividly saturated reconstructions chewing up logic while spilling forth meaning, a sacred dance of opposites consuming the birth of my own death, too beautiful for the linear-based monkey-mind.​

<3
 
“At the heart of science is an essential balance between two seemingly contradictory attitudes—an openness to new ideas, no matter how bizarre or counterintuitive they may be, and the most ruthless skeptical scrutiny of all ideas, old and new. This is how deep truths are winnowed from deep nonsense.” ― Carl Sagan
 
<3 this. :)

What can be said of DMT as an experience and in relation to our own spiritual emptiness? Does it offer us answers? Do the short-acting tryptamines offer an analogy to the ecstasy of the partnership society before Eden became a memory? And if they do, then what can we say about it?

What has impressed me repeatedly during my many glimpses into the world of the hallucinogenic indoles, and what seems generally to have escaped comment, is the transformation of narrative and language. The experience that engulfs one's entire being as one slips beneath the surface of the DMT ecstasy feels like the penetration of a membrane. The mind and the self literally unfold before one's eyes. There is a sense that one is made new, yet unchanged, as if one were made of gold and had just been recast in the furnace of one's birth. Breathing is normal, heartbeat steady, the mind clear and observing. But what of the world? What of incoming sensory data?

Under the influence of DMT, the world becomes an Arabian labyrinth, a palace, a more than possible Martian jewel, vast with motifs that flood the gaping mind with complex and wordless awe. Color and the sense of a reality-unlocking secret nearby pervade the experience. There is a sense of other times, and of one's own infancy, and of wonder, wonder and more wonder. It is an audience with the alien nuncio. In the midst of this experience, apparently at the end of human history, guarding gates that seem surely to open on the howling maelstrom of the unspeakable emptiness between the stars, is the Aeon.

The Aeon, as Heraclitus presciently observed, is a child at play with colored balls. Many diminutive beings are present there--the tykes, the self-transforming machine elves of hyperspace. Are they the children destined to be father to the man? One has the impression of entering into an ecology of souls that lies beyond the portals of what we naively call death. I do not know. Are they the synesthetic embodiment of ourselves as the Other, or of the Other as ourselves? Are they the elves lost to us since the fading of the magic light of childhood? Here is a tremendum barely to be told, an epiphany beyond our wildest dreams. Here is the realm of that which is stranger than we can suppose. here is the mystery, alive, unscathed, still as new for us as when our ancestors lived it fifteen thousand summers ago. The tryptamine entities offer the gift of new language, they sing in pearly voices that rain down as colored petals and flow through the air like hot metal to become toys and such gifts as gods would give their children. The sense of emotional connection is terrifying and intense. The Mysteries revealed are real and if ever fully told will leave no stone upon another in the small world we have gone so ill in.

This is not the mercurial world of the UFO, to be invoked from lonely hilltops; this is not the siren song of lost Atlantis wailing through the trailer courts of crack-crazed America. DMT is not one of our irrational illusions. What we experience in the presence of DMT is real news. It is a nearby dimension-- frightening, transformative, and beyond our powers to imagine, and yet to be explored in the usual way. We must send fearless experts, whatever that may come to mean, to explore and to report on what they find.

- food of the gods
 
“In the first age, knowledge was inseparable from wisdom, which is perhaps best defined as the sense of the fitness of things. Knowledge was of wholes, organic interaction, and the turning of systems within systems. But as people created increasingly artificial social systems, insulated from the natural world they had come to fear, they began to lose awareness of the workings in nature. They sought to regain this lost knowledge, but their motive for its reacquisition was to control nature’s processes arbitrarily, and the method used was analysis- the breaking down and tearing apart of wholes. Knowledge thus came to be divorced from wisdom” Richard Heinberg - Memories and Visions of Paradise
 
Reasoning draws a conclusion, but does not make the conclusion certain, unless the mind discovers it by the path of experience. - Roger Bacon
 
“People with no morals often considered themselves more free, but mostly they lacked the ability to feel or love.”
― Charles Bukowski

“You begin saving the world by saving one man at a time; all else is grandiose romanticism or politics.”
― Charles Bukowski
 
I believe that if life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade... And try to find somebody whose life has given them vodka, and have a party. `Ron White
 
Cognitive Heart said:
"Learn to die and you learn to live." - DmnStr8
Click to expand...


Have been thinking about this A LOT recently! Such a funny little coincidence.

You gotta appreciate what you've had, and surrender attachment to self.
 
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