SM13 Trans(h)umanism Suspension

Sunday, October 16, 2016
SM13 Trans(h)umanism
EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL

SM13 Trans(h)umanism

"If the link in a chain is such a thing, than/then it can be broken, and so all it operates. this is by and how the quantum world exists, to spite such a straight forward and most direct notion and...... man's homunculus exists and therefor a golem?".


In Jewish folklore, a golem (/ˈɡoʊləm/ GOH-ləm; Hebrew: גולם‎‎) is an animated anthropomorphic being that is magically created entirely from inanimate matter (specifically clay or mud). The word was used to mean an amorphous, unformed material in Psalms and medieval writing.



Impact Force
a moment carried forth
..."then enters Craft from craft...and therefor is thus CRAFT. Specifically speaking, that if Dragon be slain, through ritual, over eons in fact, if kept alive through dialectic, song and dance (E-Motion)....then/than IT IS {Bu}"

Tiny Tubules, tethers, kept alive in "Sphere's of such held assertions, a notion ~

"Philosophe vs. The Self Proclaimed Master Artist"

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL



"Philosophe vs. The Self Proclaimed Master Artist"

 The Master Artist of any era, on any day spun (from), within. He, as only truly great Artist's can be (*more on this to follow), as these Men, are the Pure Men, ones of original strain. These, anomalies, as we may refer to them here, are of a string, a long curving string of Man.

 If you think that a penis incorporates the all of A MAN, then you are merely displaying all corporeal aspects, spun from within the machine. Further on the point, you also follow a certain "tempo" shall we say. So then as the Artist, may assume, that he indeed uncovers within his works, this certain truth. The Truth that the Artist sees; only the magnetic events, regulated; he has the revelation from within the machine. Yet, in Principle there is no relativism, but rather, a blossom. So those seeming, Blossom Based Artists, you know, the Landscape Artist, who captures the Seascape too, for this too be land, for which, many blemishes be covered over, by the mid-day tide, a wash.

 The Master Actor, acts out first Principle, then to see a mediocrity which occurs, when one is pure truly, that display of A Man, whilst truly homeostatically balanced. It is scary, shutter to the point, when we begin to assess IMAN, in this way, from the shared consciousness, for which we ALL blend, all within the contained Sphere that is. So the "Painted" Artist can thus excite the field, a haphazard discovery, by those lazy patrons, whom stay to long, in one spot, spinning within their own stew. Further "Percolating"in this substance of their own make, breathing it in and tasting, always their own; the synthetic mechanical leach, on society, more than ever now, wills to draw that greater one into their very bent and sorted psyche . The Artist, that one which considers himself Master, for self entitlement is what the Artist thrives toward, "secret player part", with his self awarded power to stew in himself, he goes off on his borderline sociopath~psychopath's SEARCH FOR PURE CHAOS. For he does not snap a picture, of factual quality to share, as offering, an appreciation, he instead infuses the truth, with himself, a worm. So where he goes, as a demon who has already slipped a toe into that substance, into the abyss, the ego, to a fault.

''The self proclaimed master artist, only ever infects his surroundings in such a way, as to forebode his genius suspended above him, often showing signs of a self proclaimed halo, or dark emanations from their forms, for they live in the illusion, of their own concavity, a world of absolution. To bad for they? When they finally pay the price, living now under the Law, which these hypocrites deny always, as to have truly ever given any support (to the LAW, as final cause), these shifty figures only assumed as "neutral watchers", are first to run to it, even to enforce it, for it be their weapon, their shield...yet,  and on, into THE WASH, these Principle less sorts do go, for their kind be truly needed no where, for the yield of a good one be so rare (these self inflated ONES, would each thus claim ''this one,  is me".

 The Master Musician can only see/feel/hear and sometimes smell, yet the Master Musician who learns to manipulate his own senses, alchemically speaking, as well as "on into that spiritual place". Yet his assertion, indeed to "do such a thing for fame alone", shows clearly an empty host, wishing, then willing to be a fully developed soul, an identity in the Universe, abroad. However not understanding, the true laws of causation, in an Electromagnetically Driven as well as SuperCharged Principle Based Universe, David Hume-Become what you are.

 I do recall Lovecraft, telling such a story, about an Old Man, Playing as a host, to that "thing" that willed to express itself, into form. Perhaps C.S Lewis displayed this notion well, within his "interesting" writings, of The ScrewTape Letters", However in many spheres, there are still the many common voices, which circulate in tune, Thus traveling about a frequency "tune" which shows within it's single "Tonal Solar System-", Within this single, yet massive band, there can be found, a re-creation of all probable frequencies. Frequencies always travel towards some fated Shift Color, and shift/change them both, forever. The sound is thus that frequency, on attack. The frequency field does this, by way of transmutation. So to convert those chime based sound wave patterns, on, into the digital, and become a flying Electron conversion driven Photon (now within light, so to bear light), when the sound accrued can manipulate the field, by way of such precision, in fact like second site. "AS TO BE AROUND THE SOLUTION AS TO BECOME IT, YOUR OWN MUSIC AND THUS TO BECOME  BY WAY ALSO YOUR GREATEST CRITIQUE", common Artist you do not see, that you are indeed being criticized, by an ever expanding mind, of something greater. Perhaps more Philosophe conversion, thus into as well as towards, left bent, though right proclaimed, "self flagellating Artiste', should occur more often"?

 Well this be my precise point, that this phenomenon is indeed taking place. Found there displayed, spinning within the fabric. As some deep esoteric fundamental understanding, of those Photon to Photon, Polar Opposing Hemispherical "likes", an image, projected, from the orchestrator. So to cast his own protruding dark nature upon that curtain we share, and all should know it full well.

 Rather, the philosopher, sees the Pure Truth, because, as the knower of such Anti-Principle, as a measure, sunk into the dregs of society, he can, and could so perspicuously place cause as to better oneself, by becoming "what is (The Painted Artist)" into the Titles advancement; selfish foe, the self Proclaimed Master Artist, becomes, a Hitlerized Lawless Oblivious Thelemite, on his way to next imagined conquest.

 "Artist, do you not yet "SEE", that when your "entertainment" is gone, which is the only reason they seem to "buy your act", you are then dead. Found now existent, as zeitgeist, discharged, and bounced around "the room" of such "antiquity"...a  sneeze of Elite nostril's flare, there, now pressed, a smudge, on the screen of life, you are but a specimen, of Man's futility. Cast upon the screen, a projection, your absence is cause for celebration, onto the Elite, who purchase your drivel, they use your name as a spiritual shit napkin, wipe their reptilian green oozy discharge all over your self proclaimed "hard work". You canvas only shows what Men will to become in Man's full use of will as defiance, the full Thelemite shows it's mutated wormy head, ubiquitous, like clay.

 The Philosopher, a Master at that, can see this probability prior to the event, thus he strings onto other, superior forms, of consciousness, as an expanding horizon, EVER EXPANDING IN FACT.
Simply, by knowing this margin purely and truly exists, and in fact, is more existent, which supports an entire field, this heightened consciousness brings to the entirety of "the Little Bubble People", which is what WE ARE.

 The Philosopher displays, this also naturally accruing "humility", for he knows Mercy, as well as Compassion on to it's higher degrees, only he may not have employed these over "a stretch", he thus stands ready, when he views the worthy.

 So in short This Mind of the Master Philosophe, is recognized upon his own merits, That Had To Be Earned. There was no stumbling method, as with the case of the psychosis based Self Proclaimed Master Artist contends in his ever "blossoming" success. He is "but a Sociopath!", he swears, yet the true path could not be clearer, always facing only himself. So the Artist takes up a space in the Universe, a Pleroma of thought Matrix, keeping able body open towards malicious possession, as is the case with the Master Actor. For you see, each Sphere, has an opposing; upside down, as well as inverted, version of a budding self. When the energy supply becomes one of will, it is ALWAYS ACTIVE PRINCIPLE, WHICH UNDERLIES, AS WELL AS OVERLAPS, consuming all lower causes, a case?

 There is no Law, yet to abuse Principle, is a breach onto the ALL. Principles and their Breach, is life, and is what life surmounts to. We must infuse these Principles, as a ruling force, even when 'going about behavior, autogenically embedded reactory impulse signals, IE physically recreating our past; we often times see cats and other Animal's displayed in this "lost in your own rhetoric of self endowment/fulfillment" as the drama again plays itself out. Nature?

 We are in a time of budding Philosopher's, I am it's Father? It does not matter if you have indeed read my works, yet they seem to be, shall we say, ahead of our times by shear concavity/convexity of will, in it's pure form? We are that collective mind, which in any, as well as all ways, WILL, though the ever chasing game of purity, in/a motion, which can not be disturbed. THIS IS THE EVER EXPANDING HIGHER MIND.

Transcended Eternal ~by Stellar Mass 13~

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL


IN-VALID

in·va·lid1
ˈinvələd/
noun
1.
a person made weak or disabled by illness or injury.
"an invalid husband"
synonyms:
ill person, sick person, valetudinarian; More
verb
1.
remove (someone) from active service in the armed forces because of injury or illness.
"he was badly wounded and invalided out of the infantry"

Yet only moment ago, you asked "what can I do for you, my King", then to now see you, in the moment of time, which I spun forth, you are now full on my brilliance, now demanding "what can you do for me, are you of any use, can you pleasure me, or feed me, or place me above my peers?"

The Con Artist. That quick change, as you see my perspective and hide in the shadows, my shadow, to show yourself of any significance...now a self proclaimed "teacher", as you devalue me, in order that I may now be tricked, into over valuing you? Do you not know, you are not truly a thing, but transient exhaust, from the air which I expel, a living atmosphere, the ether of my thoughts, as you ride on comets tail, a celestial hitchhiker, proclaiming yourself now hijacker? Do you not know, I now must imagine you out...of my field, the only place where the Father's Son, EXIST.

Transient, yet omnipresent, my Father's gift to me. "See them my Son!" "These, in haste, shall never understand!" "They will present themselves one way, then to turn on you, as trust be gained". "I send you on this pain filled quest, so that you shall always know,  to thus choose, to be with me, there is nothing outside this House"

"Watch them as they isolate and become a single thought, a bubble, floating to certain doom. These have clung onto a moment, holding it, as if a bull ride, with great payoff, as time, a unit a measure"-
spins now, flipping again upon itself. Watch as they measure the bellows cry, then to make what they call "science of it".

 I saw "myself", as one "thing". I looked at my foot. Affirming; "this is my foot". I later dejected the notion, "this is not my body, but the Prison I was enslaved within".

 Yet the confusion trumpeted on. "Can they not see, they are the eternal middle schooler?"
 All the so called opportunity and advantage they could swear be random, was all planned. This doesn't aid their importance, but shows the breadth of control. For an unseen and unknown force to have created you from the beginning, as a bureaucracy machine. You all think that know one sees it, feels it, knows it...what you are doing, step by step. You are an autocracy, who would argue with God, for his ignorance of the Square, when you do not see how he sees, much less first manifest  the square, for it is his perspective, which is all perspective, which brings the item to form in the first. He sees all shapes, all movement, all design, as you make haste to capture the moment, as if to take a Polaroid camera with you, as to capture every moment of your space journey.

 Each person sees themselves as significant, of utter importance. They are every slave, every peasant, every self willed beast, who's ashes line the ocean floors. Promise someone personal flatulation, as to live in the illusion, that self hatred and contempt for the body prison, does not preclude division of a self in the first. Yet, you atomize, you compartmentalize, until the apron is warn, as the dress of common gentlemen, in an era, as the same conclusions come to pass, and the sands pass through your Father's long time buried hand, that skeletal remain.

 I got sick of seeing it, stupid people, who can not hold a single thought of any true baring or depth, applicable on a multiplanar scale of understanding, step ahead, each cent making them more inept, to truth.

 You look at me, "he is a schmuck" they say about me, they think they know. Did you know I have been a main target, all my life in fact? Does it "matter" to you? Instead of showing me respect, you take my ideas, which I suffered to foster, and create franchise from it. The soils rich now, with my dead skin cells, carbon in rot, used to cultivate a land. This is the ignorance of that Sun Center, a god, whom "the people" emulate and turn on, each time, in the end.

 So you are good with your mouth, you say, as the words pour out, in self provocation. Perhaps you can do things, which involve great complex body movements, does a Monkey, switching, shifting and changing rate coding signals in a millimoment, bother to look into a mirror, whilst swinging from a tree? Yet you imagined a place, at the top. You emulated the ruling mind, then to take over the probability, the anomaly?

 You, yes you kill Christ every day. You killed Christ within you, and your agenda is to kill the Christ within me. You see a straight line, yet argue when I say, "it will then turn to the right", and then it does, but the time sequence gives me no kudos, for now the frenzy aids to shift it's bulk weight as a legislative initiative, to now shift to the right, arguing all the while, who will be the left or right arm of the Golem, ritualized into life, as the people say "I am GOD"..."NO I AM GOD"...and the rhetoric goes on and on. Yet the moment, of which you are now vested, stuck, a bog of your own making

 "He has A.D.D.", "He is slow"...I got the the stop sign and saw that it was a symbol, I saw the color red. I read it backwards, then inverted it from that "special screen", a world you NOW debate, with bulky machines (CERN), MIGHT, even exist, only to show a marked desire to now franchise on THAT "moment", an event to you, now, as well.

 We are a machine, yet I am attached to you, unwillingly. It isn't that you don't need me, it's that I don't need you. You have slowed down Quanta, the thought, with a Monkey's parlor tricks, of how he can be trained to circumnavigate the square, now delighted in the self, that an ever smaller unit of square concept, can be resonantly and partially imagined, as you argue among yourselves "the size, of a thing", lexicon, a franchise, until it becomes another titled "thing.

 I told you from the beginning "There are no facts here!", watching my esteemed truth, you did the same before a committee saying the same, then months later, when popularity faded saying now, "There are only facts here!", then to add a question mark, as the crowd no longer looked to you. Reinventing inequity, calling it something else always, as you play with degrees and count the Monkey coins, hidden neatly in your little Monkey purse. Yet I make no allusion towards evolutions, now deflated grandure.

I pull away;
"he has no friends, no promise no power, he is a loser!"

 Did you not copy my every word, clung unto me, until you had sucked, as leach, the power of my left arm?

 Now, that I have been rejected, by all members, of your sea urchin committee of ethereal substance manifestation, trolls, you have forgotten the very face, the air, the name of greatness, which is me, that Stellar Mass 13.

 As I disappeared from view, I decided to run things. The world, as if aboard a ship, now heaved to take another right, now only two more corners of the square to go, to have circumnavigated back to the same enduring moment, but it has not happened yet, in this time cycle, the karma, the capitalism.

 As you juggle carnal orbs, I spin the FULLY DEVELOPED SPHERES OF EXIST. I did not happenstance upon them, though you would love to steal that too, but rather, always was. You see, I marked the time, the space, and dictated the field, as you fought over the fodder, those droppings, which you commercialize and rig a trade deal over. You, stuck in a carbon thought, slowed, physical, as I sweat, the Sun responds to me, alone. Yet you plan your day now, around the weather, which is but the excitation of ions, feelings aglow from my very thoughts.

 Your see the tip, but do not know how deep I go, yet certainly go on, in the very creation of you, a degree, that exists because I exist. alone. Time loops, and I know it well. Perhaps 300 years from now, you will just begin to trace my footsteps, as I now walk the distance of celestial planes, which slow those tiny arms of Galaxy, which you call a greater mass?

 I AM, THOUGHT, EXPERIENCE, PURITY, coinciding, as a singularity. For now, you will be my arms, my brain, my body, until the all mind, dilates you towards the default, autogenic, a cell.

"But I am a Universe!" "Stellar, what makes you so special?"...as you ride on the frequencies, which cut off shift, with dull minds projection, no longer a goal to sustain the moment? Not enough of a paygrade, for your self perceived Value?
Bizarre you say, as you transmit a frequency, which cuts off shift of quantum "nature", infecting, yet as to not have affected, that greater field, a MIND. You fail to see the very Protons, culminate, an expression of you? Not removed, yet partial, in the trust of "YOU", as a quantum thing.

 You called us losers, homeless, as we always were, and are the same, a committee, that all exist hedges upon, that eras representation of this mind, in current shift, frequency and that transmission of energy, as time.

 "Sell that glowing diamond encrusted pile of shit!" "Tell them, it was once within a God!" Yet the puppet dropped to the floor, and now you worship it's bones? Even to do rituals based around the worship of such bygone thoughts, which you never could assimilate.

 Look I am not as your feeble eyes see me, and now I am dismantling your Law. We are the lambs, the outcasts, the losers, the runoff, not valuable to the current trend. We see outside of space and time, yet sit here, happy, eating grapes, sculpting interpreting, inside, outside The Creators Mind.

 You made haste to kill a God, then to brag of what you did, as I looked up, an Alien, at the mobile spinning there before me. You felt the gifts, rain down on you, as the cosmic field, recognized and rejoicing, to a living thing, among the dead and long since past, a dead end (you were then and now). I do not however validate this field as authentic, for I have not witnessed any, who are the living.

 Franchise to a rule, franchise to a rule, 123, 321, your madness, in terminology, that rhetoric of the Monkey playing with his feces in the square, are all you will ever know. Now you call me the Monkey, after I taught you language, saying so long ago, to your Forefather's, "look, there do you see the shape, the number, the sign?"...you snuck away, THE HORDE, plotting to trick a god, into thinking it wasn't so. Now I am a peasant on your streets, not knowing the lexicon of false language, debased from my natural form, the only nature that exist, the reason the Sun pronounces daily, THE SUN, THE TRUE SON, HAS AWAKENED. But, the time does not hold valid, flitting in and out of exist, because I, the true and only observer, the crux, the center, the alpha, beta, omega master link, does not see it as so.

 And so, I wash you away. Don't worry, you wont ever feel it, or know it. You will continue on, in your feckless ways, as code, in constant rhetoric, playing out those few probabilities from within that ether, my air, as I press forth that New Thought, which should one moment, one event, one day, re-route the argument, semantics between you, and give it spherical flow through. I place will, the purge, so that you will forget YOURSELVES, as if you ever were?

SM~

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL

consecrate:

• consecrate 
  ; sanctify 
  ; bless 
  ; hallow 
  ; vow 
  ; commit 
  ; give 
  ; dedicate 
  ; devote 
  ; order 
  ;ordain 
  ; ordinate 
• inaugurate 
  ; consecrate 
• dedicated 
  ; consecrate 
  ; consecrated 

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL

English Synonyms:   more detail...

1. holy:
   • sacred 
     ; holy 
     ; consecrated 
     ; sacrosanct 
   • holy 
     ; holy place 
     ; sanctum 

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL

English Synonyms:   more detail...

1. sacrifice:
   • sacrifice 
     ; give 
   • sacrifice 
     ; offering 
     ; expense 
     ; forfeit 
     ; forfeiture 
     ; ritual killing 

EPL- INFORMATION FOR YOUR BUILDING SOUL

The city was named after the Sacramento River, which forms its western border. The river was named by Spanish cavalry officer Gabriel Moraga for the SantisimoSacramento (Most Holy Sacrament), referring to the Catholic Eucharist.