The depletion of human energy

by Jon Rappoport

January 10, 2020

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As in: energy depletion.

Without energy, the individual feels trapped. In that state, he seeks to conform, fit in, survive long enough to die of old age.

Body and mind deploy various feedback mechanisms to inform a person about his “available supply of energy,” and when these signals are taken as absolute truth, trouble comes.

“I can sense my energy is dwindling. So I have to…settle for less, or see a doctor, or give up, or accept that I’m getting older, or change my values, or tune up a victim-story, or join a group, or…”

On and on it goes.

In this twilight zone, the individual is unwilling to consider solutions that could restore his vitality. He’s already opted for a lower level of life.

In particular, he’s unwilling to explore the one aspect of his capability that works like magic: imagination.

That’s out. No dice. Preposterous. Absurd.

After all, imagination is just that spring rain he felt as a child, that unknown space that held all the promise in the world.

That was then; this is now.

Now is sober reflection. Now is routine. Now is habit. Now is empty.

Once upon a time, he read a science fiction novel and, at the end of it, he felt as if he were standing, triumphant, in deep space at the crossroad of a hundred solar systems.

Now he knows there is no such place. Now he is intelligent.

And now he has no energy.

The light that once flared is gone.

The idea that his own imagination could lead him to discoveries beyond anything he knows is fool’s gold.

Yes, once when he was twenty, he woke up in the middle of the night and walked to his window and looked out over a city and knew he was on the cusp of an endless future…but what can he do about that now? There is no returning.

So his imagination waits. It idles.

Yet…if he took a chance, if he began to dream again, if he started up the engine, if he considered offloading the interlocking systems that have become his daily life, what might happen?

What layers of dead thought might peel away?

What abiding convictions might dissolve?

What energies might be restored?

Is there a huge space beyond his common neurological impulses and rigid survival habits, where Vision can be played out on a vast scale?

Is there a different kind of life he can enter, crossing the threshold from tired knowledge into mystery?

Can he take a route around his stale reality after opening the door to his imagination?

There is, in fact, a silent channel that winds through the entire time-scale of the human race.

History does not officially record it, because history is written by winners for losers, and this channel has nothing to do with pedestrian notions of victory or defeat.

The route of imagination has no truck with conventional space or time. It invents its own, and eventually introduces them into the world.

How many stories are there about journeying knights who cross the boundary from ordinary events into a realm of magic?

The stories are messages…sent to ourselves, to remember. This place, this day, this moment is a platform from which to embark.

Adventure, with no end.



Exit From the Matrix

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

10 comments on “The depletion of human energy

  1. Paul says:

    “In this twilight zone, …”

    EUREKA! I think I’ve found it!
    The Secret of Filigreed Volume.
    (a + b + c3 + I…)

    a) a dash of Rod Serling, a solid, silken, yet shifting dance in Twilights’ Mind Twinkling. Brooding smokers welcomed!

    b) a sprinkle of Jim Morrison, dancing, prancing, lashing in the fires of Poetry’s prose. Inventive Intensives too!

    c) …And at Triple Light Speed, a whole lotta JR.

    I) …And ALL Other “I’s”, who like to dance. Even if 2 left feet. (“We can fix that.”)

    but I may have mis-calculated, me thinks Jon doesn’t favor formulae.

    I was never good at math Jon.

    I = Infinity

    Walking the Wire / Largo
    ~ The Piano Guys

    Of Unsung Infinite Possibilities:

    It’s amazing, ya know. What a single artist can do, drawing self-held bow, `cross tensed-stringed-wires, with undo flow.

    With Myriad accompanying Artists…, aglow.

    Ya never know…, ya know.


  2. Paul says:

    “Yes, once when he was twenty, he woke up in the middle of the night and walked to his window and looked out over a city and knew he was on the cusp of an endless future…”

    Dear Dr. Rappoport,

    I must inform you, please stop reading my client’s life script.

    He was 17 at the Time, he woke up in early morn, and he looked out onto his front Street.

    So there!

  3. Paul says:

    I BELIEVE, that all the wonders of the creative imagination are possible.

    I THINK, that certain limit “types”, within (“self”) and/or without (“the world”), are existent.

    I FEEL, somehow, that these limits are larger & more powerful than little ole` me. Which, of course, sounds ridiculous, because if said limit type is a “within” type, how could “a more powerful limit” be limited by, “little ole` me.” NOW THAT’S INSANITY! or at least IT’s thinking. I’ll have to review & revisit that one.

    I SENSE, I need to rest my head.

  4. Paul says:

    the mellifluous voice of Gregory Peck provides voice for plays title: “And now,

    A MOST INTIMATE CONVERSATION WITHIN SELF & The Concepts of Juan Pierre Rickenbacker.”

    (For the purposes of dialogue, Self will split into S1 & S2. No one really knows which one is stupider)

    S1: so ah…did you read it?
    S2: yeah
    S1: whadya think?
    S2: well… I am lazy
    S1: that you are.
    S2: and ahh… kinda confused
    S1: kinda?
    S2: well… (sheepishly) I don’t wanna brag
    S1: oooookay. (huge eyebrow raise)
    S2: HEY!…how `bout you!
    S1: I AM YOU!, you freakin` moron!
    S2: still.
    S1: so, what about me!?
    S2: well… you’re fearful, for starters
    S1: yeah, but that’s just because I see everything as dangerous
    S2: ……I see…go on
    S1: no, I’m scared.
    S2: alright alright relax
    S1: yeah, but you’re the one with no original ideas
    S2: yeah, me too.
    S1: so what the hell am I so upset about?
    S2: yeah…really… me too
    S1: yeah!
    S2: yeah!

    JPR enters scene & snarls:
    “Come over here, both-a-ya, so I can slap your heads together.”

    S1: ouch!
    S2: ouch!

  5. Paul says:

    Humored Food for Ideations

    I was walking down a paved street, in unfamiliar territory. Got lost, saw an earthen walkway that spiraled a bit as it gently ascended. I decided to take a chance & give it a go.

    Walked up it, enjoyed the accompanying low bestride flora. As I proceeded forward, the overgrown flora grew in magnitude, enclosing & cooling.

    A green forrested occlusion began to encompass me. I thought it, the end of this particular road.

    Nevertheless, I pushed on.

    A simple cabin appeared. I’ve seen them a thousand times.

    I shouted, “Is anyone home?”

    A man exited the swinging door & I heard the typical clap as the door swung closed.

    I queried, “Where are we? I’m a bit lost.”

    He replied, “No matter, want a beer?”

    (It was just before noon.)

    I said, “Sure.”

    We sat, took a few introductory sips, with nothing particular in mind(s).

    He says, “What brought ya here?”

    He caught me in the middle of a welcomed sip, & I squeezed out side-wised, “Got lost.”

    He muttered, “Huh.”

    We sat there a while, just enjoying the moment & cooling beer. He familiar with the surroundings, me unfamiliar. No matter.

    He looked away, minimally distant, no far shores in his eyes.

    And said, “You brought me somethin` huh.”

    Startled for a moment, I brushed his question away with a tightening, retracting-chin “No.”

    There was an awkward pause, for me, that is.

    He smiled the most vague smile, & mimicked my previous head-motioned-No & just stared at me.

    He took a sip of beer with upturned bottle partially covering one eye. Still drinking slowly, he rotated bottle to reveal both eyes. A-staring.

    A memory hit me like lightening.

    You see, in my youth, me & my pals were prone to skip The Light Fandango with a little help from LSD.

    I had 5 tabs in my wallet, that I held onto for memories sake. Just a little memento of fun days gone by.

    He said, “Out with it kid.”

    I unwrapped the dots, now pale on yellowed paper.

    He quickly said, “Gimme three, you take two.”

    He then added, “You want another beer?”

    “Yes please.” I replied.


    After about 45 minutes of silence & sipping, “things began to happen”, to put it mildly.

    He chuckled, a low chuckle to himself.

    I looked away, trying NOT to hear his stupid chuckle.

    But I couldn’t help myself.

    I chuckled an anticipatory chuckle too.

    Then for the next 5 hours we were literally rolling on the earthen floor, laughing like 2 knowing morons.

    Then he stood up, looked at me lying on the ground & said “Alright kid, dust yourself off & get the hell off my property.”

    God I gotta get me some acid.

    • Greg C. says:

      Amusing. I really got a kick out of Ricky Gervais’ recent Golden Globes monologue, because it was an Emperor has no clothes event. All those highly skilled, successful people in the room and behind the scenes haven’t produced anything except ways to alleviate boredom, which is everywhere in modern culture. Imagine the same treatment for, say, the medical industry, education, the car industry. Those are just 3 examples of spiraling costs for building useless, wasteful, and harmful extensions of practical solutions that should have been entirely replaced 50 years ago.

      We need to do more than laugh at the current state of affairs. We have the creative resources within to invent and inspire, but not much will to use them.

      It may be our culture is going through a phase of complete deconstruction of all ideologies. I think that is almost certain. What happens next? If we burn the ship, can we swim to an island and build a new one? We are going to find out. Human energy? Yeah, we need it!

  6. Jacqueline says:

    Many long years ago, I was heading to my car on a gray and rainy day, considering the gloominess of it all. A little boy about four years old, donned in rain boots, was holding his mother’s hand and crossing the street not far from me. As he walked, he lifted his little legs high and brought his feet down to the street so one could ‘hear’ its wetness. He giggled softly, then said rather exuberantly, “This is the best day yet.” My perception of gloominess was immediately forsaken. Through the years, this little boy’s voice has countless times served to remind me that is not the perception that controls you, but rather you that controls the perception. The power of one. Create yourself and your life.

    • Greg C. says:

      So true – when we make a habit of blaming externals like the weather (or other people) for our feelings, we abdicate control, and get cut off from the internal source of experience. Not only in the mind, but the body as well sets up blockages, tensions that never let go, that generate problems.

      So much of our news is about blaming others for our problems, convincing us that they are in control. The media feeds our habit because there is widespread demand for this kind of narrative.

  7. About Creativity says:


  8. ReluctantWarrior says:

    The Abyss

    We are all figments of the abyss aching to be,
    Burning embers of higher illumination;
    In whose warm glow we can see
    The brush fires of the imagination!

    We are transcendental sparks
    Feeding the kiln of universal being,
    A beacon in the dark
    A new way of seeing.

    We are orphans of oblivion’s womb
    On a romantic sojourn of death,
    Cursed by our mortal wound
    Touched by Eternity’s breath.

    As dark clouds rise on the horizon
    Man flies from his mortal cocoon,
    Beyond the algorithms of Urizen
    Seeking his magical boon.

    For we direct our own resurrection
    A sublime mixture of joy and woe,
    Troubadours of love’s absolution
    On our brief journey down death row.

    And letting go of love
    I crossed the bottomless abyss,
    Beyond the heavens above
    Greeted by love’s true kiss.

    The future for humanity is bright indeed
    Freedom from our dutiful existence
    Planting our eternal love seeds
    Amid this mortal pestilence

    We are prisoners of this sphere
    Sleepwalking to our doom
    Wiping away bitter tears
    As our soul’s begin to bloom

    March on to your glory!
    Though the end be ever neigh,
    You shall write your hero’s story
    As the fare Angels above sigh.

    And in this enchanted world
    We live in such sweet agony,
    Around which the eddies of time swirl
    Engulfing each moment’s sweet Ecstasy!

    To see beyond Kronos shadowy lair
    Takes courage to live anew,
    And to ever dare
    To thine own self be true.

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