A break from reality: the path of the artist
by Jon Rappoport
December 19, 2017
“The artist invents new space, where there wasn’t space before, and then he creates new energies there. Artists produce unprecedented dimensions and worlds.” (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)
Among all spiritual paths described by teachers, now and in the past, the one represented by artists is unique.
Quintessentially unique.
Why? Because—and this is vital to understand—the path of the artist has no explicit cosmology, no preordained content, no catalog of wisdom.
In other words, no prior meaning has been imposed on it.
This is not a path replete with its own metaphysics.
No one is in charge of the path.
For all these reasons, the path of the artist is not normally recognized as being spiritual.
And yet it is. It is forged in freedom, and it has been established by artists from the dawn of time, from the moment the first human scratched the first drawing on the wall of a cave.
He was saying, “Reality is not final.”
“The wisdom of the clan isn’t the only wisdom.”
He was saying, “This path is for the individual.”
Who knows what price he paid for his daring?
But he opened the way for all artists to come.
There is a line that separates everything a person knows from the Mystery that lies beyond.
Most people are content to rearrange and filter and study what they already know. They may glimpse the sea of mystery, but they don’t want to enter it, because: they have no map.
And yet, the key to greater consciousness is always in that mystery.
The mystery can be entered, but not through conventional means. It can be traveled, but not with someone else’s navigation chart. It can be illuminated, but not through a process of head-on discovery.
The mystery is progressively revealed through the act of creating. The act of imagining. The act of inventing what wasn’t there before.
This is what the artist does.
He brings about a dimension-shift.
He makes quantum leaps, spontaneous actions, improvisations that have never occurred before, that are unique to him, in the moment.
As a resultant effect, he experiences insights that are beyond his current state of knowing, beyond what anyone else in the universe can transmit to him.
This path, obviously, is not a system. It is beyond all systems and structures. Beyond all charts, all diagrams, all blueprints, all cohered wisdom.
This path is always new.
That is its opportunity: to transcend repeating and restating what you already know and limiting where you can go.
It’s the opportunity to move out of the welter of thoughts that occupy your mind, into the action of inventing new reality—on a blank canvas, on an empty page, and most importantly, on the yet uncreated space of your future.
We are all artists who make reality. We are meant for that life, in the same way the body is meant for breathing and moving.
In these times, many people have opted for a more passive form of spirituality, in which acceptance of things-as-they-are is considered an end in itself.
Along the artist’s path, spontaneously, rise up answers to the most profound questions you have been asking, since it first occurred to you that life, mind, thought, and the universe might be more than they seem.
These answers are uniquely yours. They’re not replicas, they’re not copies; they’re not second-hand.
They incur no debt or obligation. They’re free, and they expand freedom. They’re yours, and they transform your energy. They’re new, and they initiate your intensified experience of the moment, the here and now.
Everything I’m describing and alluding to here is different from the work of the Reality Manufacturing Company (RMC), which spools out Things-As-They-Appear-To-Be.
In the political arena, for example, the RMC manufactures untold numbers of cover stories, to obscure the fact that Control is the single goal of elites.
At the apex of the pyramid of control is mind control:
A shared understanding (illusion).
“We all know that ABCDEF are true.”
Defection from the illusion is easy to label a mental disorder.
The physical world is real. Claiming it is the only reality is a strategy designed to keep the individual from embarking on his path of creating realities.
On that path, in freedom, the individual finds his own truth.
“Re-entering” the world with that truth is power. Leverage. Unshakable personal unique knowledge.
(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.
What is art? I think it is a performance or product that is simpler than the ideas that it represents.
Why are some paintings worth more than $100 million while a copy might be a few hundred dollars and a print is fifty bucks or an image online is free? I think it is because the originals of certain paintings are pieces of the turning points of the history of civilization.
Why are some paintings worth a fortune and others nothing? I think that the big money class values the pieces that further their goals more than everything else.
Why is modern art not as aesthetically pleasing as classical art? I think the money class wants to instill in the common man that the smart people think better than they do. The goal is to dominate the regular folks. If you can’t see the beauty of the stuff in the museums then you will give the benefit of the doubt to the experts to make decisions for everybody.
What does Yoko Ono’s art exhibit of three pile of dirt mean? Nothing. It is an example of the psy-op.
Thought-provoking. Thank you.
Thanks Jon. for those who want to see the Artist’s point of view of the Artist’s Life; my poem which was published in 2001. I republished here on my blog as I consider it one of my better poems & certainly one of the hardest to craft it right in what I wanted to say. An Ode to artists,
https://vanderhoofphotography.com/2015/08/28/artist-2001-plumas-county-arts-commission-calendar-poem/
Jon
I am not convinced of two things that are currently popular,
1) Hu-man has evolved to what has become today from humble “ape-like” status
2) Hu-man is exclusively responsible for his own destiny
Here’s what I wrote about spirituality recently:
“Spirituality is all about confronting froth and then being true with truth. In that regard, faith is knowledge and not belief. Belief backs whimsical bluster that fuels regions. The religiously faithful, by that token, bluster blindly. Religious adoration is the précis to abject enslavement to chaos and all that is dark.”
Best
OT
WHITE DOG:
Its dark out here…
its black and darkly, and cold, out here.
Deep and unwritten, yet waiting on edge for a breath from a free life to write it.
The starry dingle…now I see.
I raise my head, to take in all this, dark vastness.
Scattered diamond dust on the top of the Iron sky table.
Glitter…and the stuttering glitter.
And Betelgeuse pulls Orion high…
And there about it all, sparks from that great fire, started so long ago.
The white dog stops, and looks back glowy eyed on me and my little lamp.
I stare back and think…
One should be allowed to die in such a moment as this one…
the existential ease of it.
The peace and unwarring nature of it…I surrender.
Cold frigid and wind blows snaps out like open jaws, on the backside of this frozen slough.
Dog after an owl, looking for a mouse between frozen cattails
Thick ice, I trust beneath my boot steps, and water neath that too; I hear great wealth of life down there, dozing in and out of a sleep, and waiting for a Spring…
The dog calls me on, and not to stop, and round the edge we go, on slippery legs and further into that void.
Jagged, long dead willow branches, gnarled in a sea of dark twisted line and feckly shadow; and things look back and we look forward.
I turn my lamp off and trusting, let the night swallow me whole.
And hear the deep thrust of wing, and smell of his feather, as the hunter is headed home.
Walk on and feel my legs, lose their weight, and lightly I drift up…
Roll around in the embrace of that eternity, and remember that I have always been forever.
The dog pulls me back and reminds me we are on a mission to find the best spot.
He is my master now.
Unfortunately, just as is ‘journalism’, ‘science’ and a myriad of other arts, one first needs to figure out what is real art and what is, as Tom Wolfe put it, ‘The Painted Word’ and that’s an art in itself. I suppose that it is also what helps feed the true artist.