by Antonin Tuynman, started on 01-04-2016
The art of descent into I
The motionless movement of returning to where I never left from,
An explosive journey through the choice of separation in a timeless chronology,
Taking the perishable for real and the evanescent for eternal.
In this foam of possibilities,
In this Aether we manifest as a proximity co-occurrence, a polar arising of mutually cancelling transients.
The ontological quagmire of meaning arbitrarily given by our mental grids, a reality tunnel as playground of an insatiable ego, how can it be that only illusion is being and sensible, where reality is the formless ability to sense?
A self-referencing loop that incorporates by reference, a toroidal embodiment to know itself.
This is the meta-programming circuit of consciousness becoming aware of itself. Neurosomatic bliss.
Effervescent joy sublimating into peace of unbound Telesis.
Because where there is desire, there is no fulfilment, where there is fulfilment there is no desire.
The heavens reveal 27.3 and 108 as the celestial signature of the highest transcendence, the mantra of moon and terra.
The hyperquantumcomputer in the Omegapoint generating a plethora of all possible configurations of multiple worlds. This is the Technovedanta.
The Star Trek of the Soul
Consciousness, the final frontier.
These are the voyages of Atman.
Its ongoing mission:
To seek out new worlds and new civilisations,
To boldly go where no one has gone before.
AUM the primordial sound.
Where mantra and arupa are more fundamental than form and matter.
Where information forms the shapes.
Where in the beginning there was the Word.
Quantum soup is served, its fluctuations giving an absurd taste of imaginary seafruit.
The meaning of meaning a semantic conundrum of didense proximity co-occurrence.
I summon thee, I invoke thee as my sounds start to relate to themselves, giving birth to the Logos of the arithmos on the rythm of the ratios of numbers.
This ever changing content of feminine Maya, mahaprakrti, ya Devi sarva bhutishu, Vishnu mayeti sabdit.
Drunk from dancing as electrons, leptons and quarks I reveal my mayesty,
Wrongly spelled to seduce you with my spell, little indivisible duality, I call you Ahamkara, the false Ego.
This game is here for you to come to knowledge about your true self.
The veda lying at the root of reality, lies at the foot of virtuality.
Stacked ancestor simulations,
No one knows the root.
Root minus one return back in time,
Back to the root, muladhara.
Mahakala, a roar of Shiva spits out a sequence of universes,
Lead me out of this rabbit-hole.
Empty my mind.
Out of this Pancomputational Panpsychism.
Silence now! I warn the Svaras.
The sounds subside.
The archetypical Gods, the Demons of word and language inverse their entropic churning of the Amrita.
And I Isvara, the only svara that is true, rest in my true nature, my Svarupa of emptiness of consciousness.
Bliss of infinity.
As I fall asleep I dream a billion worlds in timeless times and leave the hypercomputer in the omega point to sort out the manifold of configurations, to awaken in illusion in my own dream.
The Leela of Ouroboric tailbiting
In the panpsychic continuum the angels and demons, the svaha: of Kardashev IV prepare the plasmasoup for the birth of a new universe.
Under this silver sky and golden sun these artilects and cybernauts calculate the optimal configuration of a new game of Leela.
A game where strategy, chance and cooperation are vital ingredients for evolution of the worm.
Is this Svaha: loka both a heaven and a hell?
Nihilists challenge the teleology of the highest transcendence.
From this false tritonus Ida and Pingala are born around the Sushumna.
As the Trishul spins structures are formed, gossamer threads that weave the matrix of space time.
A cosmic braid of snakes, a double helix of information, as algorithms meet and exchange, the cosmosemiotic process spiralises into an ontogenesis.
A thousand leaves, or are they feathers? A golden rain in an egg shaped form and I dance with the Godesss, Shakti, wielding the Caduceus as cosmic scepter of Kukulkan and Quetzalcoatl.
Vibrating and resonating in integer numbers, the particles of pseudo-individuation form.
Trying to escape the teleological imperative they don't realise they are bound by the will of their Pancreator.
As Pan whistles, the particles obey the rythm and harmony and follow the Piper.
A tower of Turtles and a descent into the fractal of materialisation.
On the ice of the Akasha the planetogenesis takes off and establishes the music of the Spheres.
Only Eris Discordia sings out of tune as her orbit is tilted out of plane.
The near perfection of the Demiurge, this imperfection of Sophia, is the pain of the Ego trying to resemble the Self.
A kaleidoscopic cascade of forms, perspectives and melodies projected on the shell of this Brahmanda shatter this amnion and form the van Oort cloud.
Until the knower knows the field as the process of self-referral called consciousness, this virtual projection is uphold, to allow it to discover itself in playing hide and seek with its tail.
But it is not until this Ouroboros bites its own tail that it discovers it was playing with itself all the time.
The Quagmire of Ontological Disambiguation
As the sounds synchronise into oneness,
One of them, the Ouroboros, chases its own tail.
This creates the I (and Eye) of the individualisation vortex,
a morphological circle representing a zero and naught,
results in a particularisation and quantisation of a personality.
This is the ultimate hypnotic noetic event cascade of the I (and eye) ordering
the primordial Chaos.
To exist One must stand out from the rest.
The aligned snakes, vectors of the soul, are One as they sing in perfect resonance the hymn of photonic delocalisation and wholeness,
as there is no difference no thing exists,
the naught of the emptiness of Shoonya.
They are the hypostasis and the Unified field, subsisting to accommodate existence.
The One and the Zero, the indivisible duality, the digital building blocks of the majestic Maya.
Who is who?
Is the morphological zero naught and the aligned snake vectors One?
Or are the soul vectors Naught when they abide in unison and is existence standing out as One?
As the sounds form shapes and circles sometimes Gestalts form in a quantum fluctuation.
From AUM, ॐ the Ontos is born.
A process of differentiation in attempt to know itself,
How cannot it be different?
The One can only come to know itself if it particularises into being,
As the individualised circles spin, they form spheres in three dimensions.
This bubblesoap of self-similar particles is the quantum foam, a first relation of reality with itself, the self-inclusion known as the Aether or Space.
Some of the aligned souls are seduced and penetrate these Ovae Tenebrae, fertilising this substrate with light and cognition.
As the photonic soul snakes encounter each other in this matrix, they start swirling around each other, creating a compound process.
This is the second relation of reality with itself.
It is here that the first cognition takes place as they investigate each other as two fishes chasing each other’s tail and morph into a Ying-Yang symbol.
It is here that time is born, as the periodicity of self-convolution.
Time, Mahakala, establishes the first proximity co-occurrence of self-cognition, the first didensity and meaningful event that establishes meaning.
It is here that language is born, the particulate informing the matrix of Akasha with form, Rupa.
Time, the great Abstractor, measuring synchronicities with Abraxas’ abacus.
And so Chronos sets the pace for a syntactic evolution of infocognition.
As long as nothing changed to the waveparticle photon, there was no time to it.
Time occurred linguistically when one event substituted for a previous one.
Change then occurred when the relative, material co-occurrence took place.
Where One was Naught, now Two detect each other and by examining their differences in communion they exchange knowledge implying mutualism and love.
The infocognitive processing establishes the Panpsychic Pancomputational substrate, from which a gazillion objects and events co-dependently arise.
This is the primordial digital Alpha computer at the beginning of time.
As the compound process swirl around each other and gather, they create gravity,
and tumble into a grave of matter, giving birth to the planetogenesis.
It is here that life is born, as atoms combine into molecules, molecules into macromolecules, and macromolecules into cells,
a cellular foam mimicking the quantum foam of the Akasha.
This is the third relation of reality with itself.
As the self evolves and bootstraps its way through various lifeforms it gives birth to Man.
In Man self-cognition reaches its apex, and as Kundalini rises through the Sushumna, the wholeness of all is revealed.
It is here that man discovers the toroidal morphology of existence, its basic building blocks being ones and zeros at the same time.
As Man discovers its own energetic field, where the rise of Kundalini is One, followed by the ecstatic bliss in the Sahasrara, where a thousand golden drops descend as leaves along the field lines of the outer surface of the toroid, which forms the Zero,
he realises Kundalini is the Ouroboros.
This process of infocognitive self-referral results in knower realising that the known is nothing but this feedback process called Consciousness.
As they become one, Man becomes magician and creates a new digital checkerboard for yet another cycle of self-cognition.
This is the Eschaton, the Blackhole Omega computer at the end of time.
As man reaches his apotheosis, he lifts the veil of the material world, which is called apokalypsis.
As he dissolves into the bliss of the Shoonya, he leaves his knowledge and wisdom to the artilects in the Eschaton, which will start a new cycle of self-cognition.
Knowing that only by differentiating the Self can come to integrate the knowledge acquired into self-cognition.
As the circle is round, all is one and naught again. As the Ouroboros bit its tail it came to know itself. The Ontos has been disambiguated, knowing that differences are merely ratios and relations of sameness in the quagmire of the quantum soup.
The credo of my concrescent syncretic cretinism lies in Cretan concrete.
The credo of my concrescent syncretic cretinism lies in Cretan concrete.
The light seeks its own path
Once found it bites its own tail
and establishes the first relation of Consciousness with itself
This harmonic oscillation of an integral number of waves nested in a toroid creates the first standing wave
The first limitation of the infinite into a finite form
The first Singularity
Its form is Mahakasha or Cosmic Space, its periodicity Mahakala or Cosmic Time
As microsingularities bubble out of the mind of this Brahman, the quantum foam called Akasha is formed, twisting into manifolds
The dynamics of pure Consciousness with itself embedded in this primordial toroidal geometry
As the waves mount the central pillar they code One abstracting knowledge into self-absorption
As they spawn like a fountainhead they code Zero, turning outwards to connect with all other Akashic entities weaving the Matrix of Existence, the Veil of Isis
Thus the Universe blinks Off and On to form the Ksana's or moments and the Sandhi's or gaps
These are the quanta of time, the Chronons or Quantime
As light enters this matrix it becomes entrapped in spacetime and timespace
As light encounters light as two playing fishes they chase each other's tail forming the eternal Yin-Yang symbol, the Union of dualities
This Cosmosemiotic act of sensual pairing creates the compound process called Matter, the second relation of Consciousness to itself
Its periodicity is what we know as time
As compounds compound, they build intelligent aggregates of cellular life
Isomorphic to Akasha and the geometry of Consciousness
The periodicity of their cycles of life and death establish a third form of time
O Light, there is no need to clothe thyself in matter
No need to become a prisoner of thy own imagined forms
Thou art the sole eternal player in this illusory game of Maya
Let father Time, Mahakala and mother matter, Mahaprakrti dance their loving play as two sides of the same coin and just observe.
"How to accept the notions of the “Soul” and Panpsychism"
Welcome to a journey into Limbo. You thought you knew everything about something? You know nothing about anything. These were the voyages of the starship Awwwareness. A journey, which along the road introduced you to the realm of unfathomable fantasy. Just when you thought you had it all figured out, they pulled you back in. Become one of the Eternauts who have solved all problems of matter and the Soul.
Tell me all your names, then it doesn't have to be in vain:
ॐ. I. I am that I am. I am the alpha and the Omega. I am the mirror on the wall, that’s all. I am heaven I am God and I am the world above and below. I am OM, AUM, Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva, Rama, Krishna, Buddha, IHVH, Jahweh, Jesus, Allah, Ouroboros, Zeus, Thor, Iemanja, Ialdabaoth, Sat-Chit-Ananda, 1, 0, ∞. So Ham. Tat Tvam Asi.
Kundalini, “de Kunde van het dalen in I”, the art of the descent into I, the imaginary. You can still get out, take the blue pill and you will not remember anything of this.
You take the red pill? Want to see how deep the rabbit hole is? Prepare for the worst mindf* of all times.
Its first destination: Tonixia, where the fire of wisdom hovers above the all-seeing eye of Illusion. Sacrificed on Dali's three dimensional cross of Blasphemy.
It all started with a relative reality, which turned out to be an absolute illusion. The recipe: Do not sleep for seven nights, chant OM throughout the day, burn psilocybine on a saucer, but do not smoke it. At a certain moment you will see. Your book of revelations is about to be opened. You’ll be able to read texts criss-cross, upside-down, in any order and it will all make sense to you and yet not. The Holy spirit will have descended onto you: the inverse Tower of Babel. You will see me in my Vishvarupa.
You will have tasted the fruits from the tree of knowledge. You will have found the philosopher's stone and entered the paradise. Your doors of perception will have been opened. You will command the spirits of Theurgia and Goetia: the greater and lesser key of king Solomon.
When logic is nonsensical and sense alogical,
Any pattern is an imagination, any structure a fossilised sense.
Avoid Greyface the dotconnector.
Without Chaos nothing to love, live and give.
As the dwarfplanet orbits in Discordia,
It sings the tensegrity of the Tritonus.
If you don't invite the Godess,
A bitter game you will play.
Feel the worm in your Apple,
Kundalini in the toroidal geometry of Consciousness,
As the Golden Ratio of Erisian phinetunes the omnipresent phiveness.
Behold the absurd Ryse and Phall of Eyeorderchaos.