This is what posts sound like when written on very, very little sleep. Seeking to transcend my own body’s somnial needs right now. Been pretty busy on the homefront lately. So much is happening in the big wide world right now, Uncle Ben just spoke to Congress, causing quite an uproar apparently, Kent Hovind is set to begin his new trial in a couple of days, the DHS is the latest government uber-structure being used to goad the public into deeper debt, and I’m too out of it to even remember what day of the week it is, let alone provide anything read-worthy of current events.
To the left is a little piece I made many years ago, one of several which I created long before I had any ever heard of things like Nephilim or transhumanism or fallen angels overseeing a technological attempt at usurping God’s throne, yet it’s strange how much I was seemingly drawn to certain concepts before ever having much of an idea as to why. Funny enough, the critics might say that this would suggest that perhaps my beliefs in them now is merely the extrapolation of early, inner desires to believe in the scientastic (I think I just made up that word, writing when you’re beyond exhausted is kind of cool…), but, this is not true.
There are still, many, many days where I simply want to wake up, fry the eggs, scrub the dishes, go through my checklist, and just make it to the end of the day when I get to have a beer and watch some mind-numbing, alpha-wave-inducing tele-picture-box. But even the glowy-box doesn’t lend itself to comatosis the way it used to. The other day I was watching this funny little cartoon with my son called “Clarence”, and right towards the end, Clarence finds himself the only kid in his school not being mind-controlled by the corporate-funded cafeteria food, and he saves his classmates by bursting in on a Eyes-Wide-Shut-type of Illuminati ritual (well, minus the orgy). Alas. Cartoons used to basically be comprised of one animated animal trying to catch another one, over and over again, and failing every time in slapstick glory.
Some people meditate in order to try and transcend the “illusory” world around them, and by this, they don’t mean the matrix of lies and propaganda being thrown at us everywhere we turn, they simply mean the world. All of it. Even their own self, their own conscious awareness of even existing as anything distinct from everything else. I suppose this sounds nice, in a way, sort of like being a baby in the womb I suppose. But then again, no. No it does not. That sounds like being a vegetable to me…
Other people want to transcend the grind of humanity by technological upgrades, Johnny-Depp style. Become a cyborg. Become an uploaded algorithm of all your memories in a computer. Better yet, become a mix of both, like the villain in the upcoming transhumanist propaganda piece, Avengers 2. Again, this does not seem terribly transcendent to me either, simply a more metallic form of vegetable…
No… I know that we are called do a very different kind of transcending. In the midst of the drudgery of paying bills, folding laundry, making your kids eat the vegetables (not the tranced-out meditators, the green plant variety), and watching the world fall apart just a tiny bit more every time we get a glance at it, we are called, to Rejoice. Always.
“Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”