http://materialintangible.blogspot.com/2010/01/tao-of-ultraterrestrials.html
Be Well.
David
The Tao of The Ultraterrestrials
"Heaven will endure
earth will endure
How can they last so long?
They dont exist for themselves
and so can go on and on"
-Lao Tzu Tao Te Ching 'Dim Brightness'
Conceptual Modeling
Information, such as what you are transcribing at this moment is transposed as a conceptual model of reality, which is also an energetic field in of itself. Your thoughts, as the arrangement of a rubric, the entrapment of images in the mind is a self regulating membrane that stores, transforms and irradiates externally in a spectrum of motion, speech, as well as being compelled to behaviors as well as the tonal range of emotional and bodily sensations that accompany this sort of individuated musical score. Call it the fluid dynamics of human energy. The Tao of the untranslatable reality behind the props, the crutches and the impassioned entanglements of our own making, appear as our own reflecting mimics, our tricksters and agents of deception that lie deeply rooted at the base of our own Tower of Babble, a nest gathered of found objects. We own nothing of this material but our valuation of it.
However these effects is not a causation in of themselves.. as what we experiential reality dictates, oddly enough, arises from an interface, not as a self reliant agent of independence held in a stasis of objectified constants. This is the field of intermediary agencies, where the whole constitutes the faceted web of constituent members. The transformation of energy does not necessarily requires opposing thumbs. However it does set them into motion, whether it is the desire of ghosts or the hunger of the Paranormalist who both seemingly speak past one another.
In other words, everything that is coherently held as a conceptual model of our personal reality, is, in effect, a meme set across the transit of our sphere made of mud bricks set atop one another, and yet as a thief in the night, the wolf calls upon us when or where we know not... as surely as the purpose of this station, or the landscape we forge in our hope to become self aware by the creation of totems,self regulating cliches and our hopelessly inaccurate "programming" language. The natural state of our own bewilderment become living myths we animate by proxy, whether it is the President of The United States or unnerving aliens. Make no mistake, they exist, but the nature of why and in what manner they exist is what interests us.
Your cartographic map is in of itself, intermediary translation of what we experience that at it's root, can neither be touched, tasted or felt. The state of the dream, the state of the dreamer and the dreamed are all mutually interdependent. In this field for example, there is no United States of America, no traffic signs, no individuals connected to the images in a dusty stack of collected yearbooks. Consequently, there are no realities that are not imbued with our own seal of approval. That is, with the exception of the paranormal. But consider how we weigh the relationships we ourselves have invented, that is to say how much of this self programmed baggage we utilize to ourselves in adapting to our own intermediary state, can we artificially separate from that which we experience? Are we the stumbling drunkards who have lost their capability to recall their own nature in by denying the nature that lies behind our own variety of transcribing languages? Is this a case of mistaking coiled ropes for snakes?
The Janitorial Staff of The Realities
These are simply examples of our translation of relationships to phenomenon that have in effect become an intermediary reality of a state of energy as contained, stored, transformed and irradiated among ourselves as well as our environment ( as surely the seemingly self evidential example of the two sides of the same coin)as a intermediary coherency. In other words, we are deeply self enclosed in a membrane of information as an energetic state. The information such as it is, at face value, is neutral, disengaged and as fluid as a system which we regulate by the values we assign to the behavior which the adaptive processes of identifications, associations, compulsions and emotional instincts recorded in the memory of either waking or somnambulist dreams. Our conceptual model of reality at it's most utilitarian and empirical demonstrations are no more than the collective hive of memes of a waking dream. We may indeed be casting the shadows of the Ultraterrestrials, asleep upon some forgotten curb of the universe, drunk, deceptively armed with an impenetrable shell of self fulfilling terms, an orientation yet to be discerned, who spent what precious time we possess in this state being the janitorial equivalent of rubbish collectors, incapable of an original thought, animated by trip wires, puppet strings and mistaken sense of self preservation.
And so, what goes bump in the night may be an alarm clock ( that out of the instinct of self preservation), we relegate as a autonomic process, to what we have ourselves have created, a parody of the synthetic coherency we have invented as a straw dog. A reorientation, a reordering of the energetic state in this field of information that we have so carefully dug as a moat about the slings and arrows of uncertainty, draws us neigh into the night, the ruins and tombs of corrupted data, the viral nature of self hypnosis, and the dead as living and the living as dead to the world beyond the protective shell we inhabit as surely as a seed planted in the firmament.
The Vision of The Dead
I saw them being transported, with their pale, dull faces transfixed in their own thoughts, pressed against the dirty panes of glass, some of which were cracking, some of which were falling out of their frames. The vehicles were faded in color, nearly a colorless gray, like ash, or dust. The vehicles were full of rusting away with scabrous voids, loose appliances and rattling vestiges of their identification, worn away like sandblasted huts, returning back into shapeless dunes veiled ehind their passengers shoulders and backs.Literally loosing their bones along the way,only animated by a force of will to avoid either flight or a conflict, they were frozen in amber as they spoke...and so this world surrounds us, shedding it's skin like a snake which slithers forward only by it's sideways motions, unable by it's nature to apprehend the heavens, we, ever the mutinous observers, plot the trajectory of a world yet to be wrested from it's own shackles.
The Wisdom of Inaction.
Is there a species who reside beside us, unknown and yet possessing indeterminate but observable extraordinary capabilities to shape our perceptions and as a consequence, have laid a trajectory whose organizing principles have guided us from Plato's cave, now bequeathed to Darwin? Yes. It is the mirror of a world that we inhabit yet have become dulled toward as to ascertain it's sublime subtlety and playful nature. That is the stuff of which children grasp as a recreation in order to reveal their relationship to a larger sphere of forms and phenomenon that exists within and without them. Mimicry and role playing.The irony in this we may have as our superiors, are those that are unencumbered by the tools we need to grasp to create a representation of that we cannot directly grasp.
In other words, these Ultraterrestrials may be what I suspect them to be, what we would consider, in our sobering vanity as hopelessly naive children, full of the mischief and the guile of what we view as the foolish, the non utilitarian sentience that prods and pokes our purposeful ignorance, our pride in assembling sand castles on the shore of a endless isthmus. One can only admire their lack of direct ambition in the truest Tao of all, the lack of any discernible earthly desire to lead us anywhere but back toward ourselves where we stand perplexed and certain of our own orientations.
"Who knows
doesn't talk
Who talks doesn't know
Closing the openings
shutting doors
blunting edge
loosing bond
dimming light.
Then you can't be controlled by love
or by rejection,
You can't be controlled by profit
or by loss.
You can't be controlled by praise
or by humiliation,
Then you have honor under heaven"
-Lao Tzu, 'Mysteries of Power'
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