þ L¤¤ °TÐÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿü¬€ Ššššš    à=Ð/Ð8šClotso Number 48943 Shelf 7699219 Room 2398FD Hall 882099R5 Wing 983 Secto 3, by authority censorum tisa myco Bramorton, High Censor Brainelf of Tigo Tara IV. I am a hypnotherapist. I do past lives. Sometimes the past life narratives conflict. There are a number of possible explanations. One is that the past life is made up, is a creation of the Unconscious, of the Non-Verbal Hemisphere working in cooperation with the Paleocortex and Limbic areas of the brain. Another is that it is some sort of paranormal telepathic thing. Another is that a brain can have more than one soul, and thus these are past lives of various soul entities currently feeding off of my brain. Another is that just as our body has ancestors, so does our soul, and that these were various sources of my current soul substance. While I was writing this a great snail being in holy Vapa was farting sweet scented farts. In one of these farts was a great bubble of gas like substance, inside this gas like substance floated a great swirling Darta, a sacred snare creature and from the blue snot that poured from its nostrils came a great burning. At the center of this burning was a tiny isolated sphere of snare being snot. At the center of this was a vortex generating a stream of hyper super mega super hyper hyper space time. With in this stream was a secondary generation of hyper meta superplexes. Within this was a seething stream of billions and billions and billions and billions to the billionth power of hyper hyper meta space time hyper complexes and within each of these billions and billions to the trillionth power of hyper super space time hyper hypercosms and within each of these a trillion trillion to the trillion trillionth power generating trillions of hypercosms constraining trillions of dimensions of space and time generating trillions and trillions of universes of which ours is just one. And within that universe I was writing the following: Now what is my soul substance. It is not a finite substance, it is a set of infinitesimal differentiations of the infinite one hyperspace time breaking it into something new and thus changing all time and space. This is not a finite substance but an transcendent one, and infinite/infinitesimal substance that is not matter but a breaking of matter/energy beyond the quantum realm into something new and transcendental. Somewhere within golden Dura, a great Buddha Turtle belched and in one tiny second created jagillions and murdillions of megaturtle years of super hepa cosm time space on glorious hypercosmic burp. Ignorant of these events, I continued to write: Because it is new and transcendental, it is a new kind of sense that transcends any of the social and physical senses. That is why Buddha advised us not to try to explain it or put it into some category, it is not so much self as the breaking of self, it is self gone totally beyond. The Buddhist say of it only: gone, gone, gone, gone, utterly beyond. This is the only true freedom. The other freedoms are false. They are random effect of brain and environment. It is the breaking at the primal base of things that generates the primal aspect of being, feeling, and doing. This is where the creativity that at once creates us and is again where me make ourselves, this is where it begins. Thus our ordinary notions of things are not to be trusted. They are illusions the brain throws out because they helped our ancestors survive and reproduce to form the brain that generates these self perpetuating illusions. These illusions include the notion of ego, self, free will, person, personal survival, death as something worth fearing, immortality as something worth seeking, status as something worth having, low status as something worth avoiding, wealth as something worth having, etc.. But if true freedom exists at the infinitesimal edge of the infinite and my consciousness, my personal subjectivity, my passion, my being from within, if these are creations of this, then they are also a product of a process in which my subjectivity is one of an infinite number of breaking points in the fabric of the infinite in which it is endlessly drawn out into something totally new. This means that the real meaning of existence is that my core is the Maker of the Maker. I am part of the process that generates God. God cannot tell me who he is because his nature is dependent upon how I chose to make him. He waits on me to tell him. What I believe in and am faithful to is what I create and what God becomes. God is the instrument I use to make myself. My only limitation is the logos, the principles of reason and order. Beyond that any possibility is open to me. But order for the transcendent is not the same as order for the finite. When I turn from the objective aspect of my being to the subjective, what was practical becomes magical, natural becomes supernatural, tangible becomes occult. There is nothing scientific about this. This is about the infinite and infinitesimal aspect of being that science is incapable of measuring, but which penetrate our existence at its core. This will necessarily manifest in the finite as something finite as something natural rather than as something supernatural. The passions and fantasies of rocks are not objects of scientific investigation. The energy and the metamorphosis of form they participate in are the objective result of the passion and the fantasy within them and its these that science knows and measures. Thus any subjective being we possess, any creativity we possess, any passion we possess, any freedom we possess, any immortal soul we possess, must also be possessed to some degree and in some way by rocks and trees and camels and beetles. But what are the boundaries to the soul of a rock, does the whole mountain have a soul. Our notion of soul is prejudiced by our desire to have some kind of ghost of the body survive the body. But that is just the body trying to get us to perpetuate the genes of the body. It tells us what has worked for natural selection. It does not tell us about primal being. But, if our primal being is creating primal being, do we have to wait to find out the meaning of reality by watching ourselves create it? That is the existential prejudice. It is as valid a prejudice as the empirical one or the pragmatic one. It is one way of viewing the manifold aspects of primal being. As I read this there are Buddha Bacteria swimming in the fluid that covers the corneas of my eyes, and holy prophets are incarnating in the organisms of my mouth and gut. Everything lurches toward a divine crescendo in which Holy Bagma, the Divine Rabbit swallows the Carrot of Doom. According to legend, we are in a universe that is generated out of energy streaming through one atom of that carrot. infiü{F¢¤13Áñ³Z \ T V º ¼ - / $&68+-GGIÊÌ~€df„†ü ü8Gü9:Times New Roman