11-30-2017, 12:01 AM
So behold, the starry night sky. But every star is a helicopter, and the void itself is the Mother of all helicopters, and every ray of light is a helicopter, every photon of every ray of light is a helicopter. And that is how we get from place to place -- we get there in a helicopter.
But sometimes you launch a helicopter somewhere, and there is no there there. Like the jarring you get in your entire body when you think there's another step on a flight of stairs and there just isn't. The surprise, when there is nowhere for your foot to go. These are black helicopters. Unbalanced forces. One way trips that just keep going, until someone shoots them down. Jutting out forever, pointlessly. Acorns that have failed to become oak trees. The hard rinds left over when the seeds have rotten from within.
This is a waste of perfectly good helicopters. Helicopters are infinite, but they are not free.
I take you to mean that SOCIAL CONDITIONING has tricked us into sending helicopters where helicopters should not go -- at least not anymore.
But personally, I can't blame social conditioning per se. Children are not just born knowing where to fly helicopters. We give them a map, ordinarily. A map of where to land helicopters. The problem is not that we give them a map, the problem is we give them a bad map. The map doesn't work. The map is so bad in fact that it looks to us moderns like 99% of the Great Work is just burning our stupid maps over and over again. But they come back, like cockroaches. There is no sufficient poison. All our poisons only nourish them, sooner or later.
I can prove this, because as soon as you rise up to the void, burn your maps against the Sun, and crash back down, mapless, the first you thing you do, every time, is start making another map. This is alchemy. It is also sacrifice. Everything you dissolve just comes back differently.
We will not be free until inside and outside are one, and void is emptied into void.
We are all mapmakers, by profession. But the map is a horse. The map is a bull that throws every rider. The map is a dragon -- a serpent that surrounds the world, swallowing its tail, slowly, crushing us. Like time.
And other people are real. As real as you are. There is no other way to explain all these helicopters. You could not possibly have made them all yourself.
But sometimes you launch a helicopter somewhere, and there is no there there. Like the jarring you get in your entire body when you think there's another step on a flight of stairs and there just isn't. The surprise, when there is nowhere for your foot to go. These are black helicopters. Unbalanced forces. One way trips that just keep going, until someone shoots them down. Jutting out forever, pointlessly. Acorns that have failed to become oak trees. The hard rinds left over when the seeds have rotten from within.
This is a waste of perfectly good helicopters. Helicopters are infinite, but they are not free.
I take you to mean that SOCIAL CONDITIONING has tricked us into sending helicopters where helicopters should not go -- at least not anymore.
But personally, I can't blame social conditioning per se. Children are not just born knowing where to fly helicopters. We give them a map, ordinarily. A map of where to land helicopters. The problem is not that we give them a map, the problem is we give them a bad map. The map doesn't work. The map is so bad in fact that it looks to us moderns like 99% of the Great Work is just burning our stupid maps over and over again. But they come back, like cockroaches. There is no sufficient poison. All our poisons only nourish them, sooner or later.
I can prove this, because as soon as you rise up to the void, burn your maps against the Sun, and crash back down, mapless, the first you thing you do, every time, is start making another map. This is alchemy. It is also sacrifice. Everything you dissolve just comes back differently.
We will not be free until inside and outside are one, and void is emptied into void.
We are all mapmakers, by profession. But the map is a horse. The map is a bull that throws every rider. The map is a dragon -- a serpent that surrounds the world, swallowing its tail, slowly, crushing us. Like time.
And other people are real. As real as you are. There is no other way to explain all these helicopters. You could not possibly have made them all yourself.