Infinity War
Infinity War
animus invictus
Gliding through the Many Worlds
“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”
“The energy field is primary and all physical manifestation is ssecondary.”
“Thanks”, I needed a cigarette. Then I remembered that I didn’t smoke.”
You’re a bundle of hope.
Okay, a broken bundle of hope in dire need of a fix, a scruffy set of unhealed wounds from a previous past all bunch up together. But still: you’re a freaking good ole’ human being, broken as fuck sometimes, but bestowed by the Gods the gift of a divine spark to shine and carry it through the worlds and abide by the light of its' flames and temperaments. That was a mouthful. That makes you good enough for the task at hand. Just wash that tall heap of deadwood with a generous gallon of lighter fluid, and light the whole pile of collected pasts ablaze, and enjoy the damn show once in a while. That’s what kayaking is for me. Drowning the fire!
Anyway.
Today is a new day.
And with a new day comes a new chance to go to the store and buy a pair of skis.
That’s what I did today (minus the fire). Fired up the truck for 15 minutes (to warm it up, was -30ºC below). Went to a store. A&W’s coffee in hands. Heart giddy for whatever reason. Just a freaking pair of skis. What’s so thrilling about it? Didn’t know. Didn’t care. Tried some boots, some mitts, some skis, some bindings, some wax, some shit, slid the card in the lil machine and I was out of the store happy as a dog. Something about spending monies feels good.
Then I went to try them. Not on a trail. Nah, fuuuuudge that. I’m freaking awesome, and so I went on a frozen lake. It’s gonna be a Dark Winter anyway, so might as well plunge to my own eternal demise a slide at a time. WCGW!
But it wasn’t sliding really well. The skis weren’t going as fast as I pictured it would. I sucked. Or the skis did. I had to wax them before, yeah. But was too cold, my hands were frozen, so I did it very quickly (veeeeery). Meh, good enough is good enough at -30C, or so is what I learned in northern Alberta working in the frigid oil path.
I made a few strides. It was awkward at best, downright insulting for whatever untold ethos of the cross-country skiers’ community might abide by. Didn’t know. Didn’t care. Nobody was watching, and if they did, they probably prayed to get instantaneously ran over by a snowmobile. Didn’t care. I was going to go to places today.
Freezing my feet over frozen lakes warm my soul for some reason. The glide of the skis over some frozen water makes me happy, you know?
I see nothing wrong with having billions of tiny diamonds collapsing into a state of reality as one ushers his way among the infiniteness of the Great Slave Lake (the deepest lake in North America, and the 9th biggest on the planet). This makes me smile. That made me existing. There. Then. Right there and right then and what the hell, don’t we all live for things that we do in the very moment that we do them and if we did, as we should, that’s the whole point of life, don’t we also appreciate the realization that we are watching ourselves doing something and for the crazier of us, don’t we feel thrilled by noticing the noticers, noticing the noticers à la inception? Bien sûr.
Push push, slide slide and crunch that ice and fuck is it ever cold and I should really have got a thermos of hot tea with me.
The sun set on a descending arc, just like my life.
We were going in the same direction, downward. For now anyway. The sun dies once a day. Maybe there’s some wisdom in there.
It always comes back too.
Maybe there’s some wisdom in there too.
I had time to reflect on a few things. Something about sliding over the ice, I swear! Gliding towards nowhere in particular, is one of the greatest form of meditation. Astral projection this and lucid dreaming this, sure, but for the common man, for the simple man, for JP, sliding over the edge of my sanity on frozen surfaces makes me warm and fuzzy inside. Nah I’m kidding. No, it kills the chatter of the mind, that is what it does.
You hear the ice.
You hear your breath.
You hear the zippers of your jacket dangling over another metal part of your jacket. You didn’t need you had so much metal on your Goose till the dangling and clicking and clinging of the things that made it so expensive decides to collude together to a make a small metallic symphony for your ears to partake.
You hear the silence echoing through the Many Worlds dancing above you. The whole fucking orchestra.
You hear the infiniteness of the universe in a kaleidoscope of frequencies. Its hues of madness.
The celestial symphony is only revealing itself through… silence. How ironic is that. But that’s what makes it so special.
.
.
.
It’s there for us to tap into, but yo, there’s a billion-dollar industry to make sure you don’t get into silence. Silence is for the Gods, didn’t you know? Fuck you, you’re a slave, so listen to those ads, listen to your ex-girlfriend, listen to the Grams and the Toks and the Fakebooks, listen to the Tubes and, most importantly, listen to the news, and stay connected 24/7. Don’t you fucking dare tapping into silence.
My new set of skis. I’m a skier meow.
It is in silence that the sound of life comes loudly to us.
The melody pertains through the walls surrounding our hearts.
It is in silence that the mind can tranquillize itself.
It is in silence that the soul can make peace with itself.
It is in silence that you can pattern reality.
You must enter that sacred place of your mind where the whole universe stands still. You must find that access door and pattern –imaginate, picture, think, dream– a more beautiful world that your heart knows is possible.
You must go through that door and take ownership of your life, of your destiny. Fuck, that’s your only motherfucking birthright. I elevate my pitch cause you need to understand what is at stake’s here: your destiny, your life, so our world.
To be a God, you have to decide to be a human being. So simple, right? To be a King, you have to die by the slander of the metaphysical sword that cuts through every single plane of reality. You got to come to term with your own There are no Gods left cause everybody killed it in their soul, in their mind, in their imagination. We got coerced in schools to kill Santa Claus, but we also threw Gods and the Luminous Beings outside of the classroom at the same freaking time. There’s no magic left because the people that are supposed to behave as the Magicians of Reality itself got killed in the slave-making educational system. We must awake all of the giants sleeping from ocean to ocean to ocean to ocean to ocean.
The wind was waning away. The sky was blue. The snow was crystal white.
I saw my reality and felt great content. Life was as good as it could be (minus the dog, the cabin and the woodstove, and maybe a gorgeous girlfriend? I’m still debating if a Bodhisatta shall date someone who isn’t called on the same level of his role. As Carl Jung said, beware of unearned wisdom. I’m heading to a place that very few can go. There is a cost to that path. Untrammelled freedom is the most expensive thing in the universe).
This life is perfect. I made it. See? Ski, kayak, truck, Jeep, BMW E46, music album published, books published, great job (okay more on this later –still a fucking job, a form of slavery) more readers on this blog that I know what to do, great online friends (thanks C.A.F and W.R., Paz, L&R and everyone that I forget), a few amazing souls in the NWT to drink with and raise hell (albeit no Russian friends yet, so things haven’t gone too out of control…), gas in the tank and money in the bank.
Oh, and one last thing:
Freedom.
I got thousands of kilometres of highways to drive upon in a territory bigger than India itself (but with only 40 000 people in it!), and billions of opportunities of more trails with a snowmobile.
Yes, the world is falling apart. There’s nothing but doom and gloom over the horizon. But the flame was never supposed to be found far away, somewhere in the horizon. The flame is in you. The divine spark is you.
The Gods haven’t forsaken us, for we are the Gods. We simply forsoke who we are, that’s the core of the issue.
Your duty right now is to prepare for a terrible storm about to unleash upon your mind, soul and heart. And things might even get physical on the material plane of existence.
To prepare means to eventually be ready. There’s a prerequisite state of readiness that military units have: a sort of minimum. Make sure that you've found somewhere over that minimum threshold. Cause shit is about to get wild. But fun.
But as things fall apart, new things will emerge. That’s reality. That is how the universe works. You have to make a choice now to be ready tomorrow. This isn’t a one-year war that we are facing, nor a decade of cold-war era style war on our mind: nope! If only! This is Endgame.
This has been the Elites’ plan from the last 130 years –hell, probably even before then, just dive deep enough into the Black Nobility families and the Phoenicians– a plan to destroy the divine nature of human beings.
They tried so freaking hard over the last 100 years.
And they failed.
I exist.
And so you do.
And by existing, we are the resistance to their plan. We are the all-powerful guardians of the highest order in all of the galaxies combined: we’re infinity in an eternal bundle of energy transcending every dimension of the Game of Life’s Many Worlds matrix.
So maybe go pick up something to glide upon, and if you don’t have anything, let me carry you over the Winter. It will be dark, but you won’t be alone. You won’t be alone.
Out.
JP