by Jon Rappoport
October 3, 2019
(To join our email list, click here.)
Logic applies to the physical universe.
It applies to statements made about that universe. It applies to factual language.
Many wonderful things can be done with logic. Don’t leave home without it. Don’t analyze information without it. Don’t endure an education without it.
But art and imagination are of another universe(s). They can deploy logic, but they can also invent in any direction without limit, and they can embrace contradiction. They can build worlds in which space and time and energy are quite different.
Magic is nothing more and nothing less than imagination superseding this universe. Magic occurs when imagination takes this reality for a ride.
Which brings us to what I call the Is People. The Is People are dedicated with a fervor to insisting that this Continuum and this consensus reality are inviolable, are the end-all and be-all.
They strive to fit themselves into Is, and this eventually has some interesting negative consequences. They come to resemble solid matter. They take on the character of matter.
For them, imagination is at least a misdemeanor, if not a felony. It’s a blow to the Is of Is. They tend to view imagination as a form of mental disorder.
Technocrats like to gibber about imagination as if it’s nothing more than just another closed system that hasn’t been mapped yet. But they’re sure it will be, and when that happens, people will apparently give up creating and opt for living in a way that more closely resembles machines.
There are many people who secretly wish they were machines that functioned automatically and without flaws. It’s their wet dream.
Magic eventually comes to the conclusion that imagination creates reality. Any reality. And therefore, one universe, indivisible, is an illusion, a way of trapping Self.
What began as the physical universe, a brilliant work of art, ends up as a psychic straitjacket, a mental ward in which the inmates strive for normalcy. Those who fail at even this are labeled and shunted into a special section of the ward.
But the result of imagination, if pursued and deployed long enough and intensely enough, is:
Consensus reality begins to organize itself around you, rather than you organizing yourself around it.
There are various names and labels used to describe this state of affairs, but none of them catches the sensation of it.
Magic is one of those labels.
What I’m describing here isn’t some snap-of-the-fingers trick of manifestation; it’s a life lived.
The old alchemists were working in this area. They were striving for the transformation of consciousness. In true alchemy, one’s past, one’s experience, one’s conflicts all become fuel for the fire of creating new realities. Taken along certain lines, this is called art.
One universe, one logic, one Continuum, one role in that Continuum, one all-embracing commitment to that role, one avenue of perception, one Is…this is the delusion.
And eventually, the delusion gives birth to a dedication to what “everyone else” thinks and supposes and assumes and accepts. This is slavery.
Freeing one’s self, living through and by imagination, is not a mass movement. It’s a choice taken by one person. It’s a new and unique road for each person.
Societies and civilizations are organized around some concept of the common good. The concept always deteriorates, and this is because it is employed to lower the ceiling on individual power rather than raise it.
“Be less than you are, then we can all come together in a common cause.”
It’s essentially a doctrine of sacrifice—everyone sacrifices to everyone else, and the result is a coagulated mass of denial of Self.
It is a theme promoted under a number of guises by men who have one thing in mind: control.
It’s a dictatorship of the soul. It has always existed.
Breaking out of it involves reasserting the power of imagination to invent new and novel realities.
Under a variety of names, this is art.
Promoting the image of the artist as a suffering victim is simply one more way to impose the doctrine of sacrifice.
In 1961, when I began writing and painting in earnest, I had a conversation with the extraordinary healer, Richard Jenkins, whom I write about in my book, The Secret Behind Secret Societies (included in Exit From The Matrix). This is my note from that time about what Richard told me:
“Paint what you want to, no matter what anyone else says. You may not always know what you want to create, but that’s good. Keep working, keep painting. You’ll find your way. You’ll invent something new, something unique, if you don’t give in. You’ll see everything in a new light. Reality is a bad joke. It’s nothing more than what everyone assents to, because they’re afraid. They’re afraid of what people will say. They’re afraid they have far more power than they want to discover. They’re afraid that power will lead them away from common and ordinary beliefs. They’re afraid they’ll become a target for the masses who have surrendered their own lives and don’t want to be reminded of it. They afraid they’ll find out something tremendous about themselves…”
Nothing I’ve experienced in the 50 years since then has diminished what Richard said to me.
These fears are all illusions that disintegrate when a person shoves in his chips on imagination and makes that bet and lives it.
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.
Your writings are bar none, absolutely love your work. IS – People
are the curse of humanity. We do live in a Universe that has been hijacked by dark forces, and an evil spell is used to keep this ruse going for far too long. Thanks for being a bright light in such darkness. May everyone reflect that these are holly un-natural times, and than do something about it.
I would like to reblog this, but i see not option for this. Is this because you do Not want it reblogged?
Jon, I literally have tears in my eyes in appreciation and that indescribable feeling one gets when reading, viewing, experiencing great minds…the one voice out of the chaos that speaks to you and inherently know as truth. Vibratory Resonance. I feel bad for people who do not experience the universe validating your very soul via the great Messengers of this dimension.
Mad respect to you sir.
Thank You.
So much.
Agreed!
I have being reading #Jon’s writing for few years now and he along with others like:#DrSebi #TyBollinger #JoelWallach
#MarcusGarvey
#BobMarley
And many more visionaries like said one.
Thank you for making me aware of the option of living through and by the imagination and creative impulse. I don’t think I would have without you Jon Rappoport.
Agree!
At a crossroad now where I am being face with accepting ALLuminum into my blood-stream in order to get into nursing school. #DrSebi said our (my) bodies are #Carbon-based and NOT compatible with #acids.Had near fatal reaction once from the Flu vaccine 2014 when it was “trying” to cross the blood-brain-barrier;my 3 children also reported the same accurence.Will the school accept my “allergic-reaction!?” Or will I be barred from my dream/journey/goal of over 18 years?
The Overlords of Strife
By David Evans
Before the dawn of this seductive universe.
Before the randy gods did first converse.
Before the first stars began to wryly twinkle
Oblivion did tremor and wrinkle.
And out of her womb a notion arose
For dancing particles to one another oppose
Locked in combat of cosmic strife
From which did spring the joyous loins of life.
And with this ‘Mad Hatter’ mutation
Arose a most twisted abomination
A pugnacious ‘God’ to help conduct the din and clatter
From the chaotic verse of atomic scatter.
With his white beard billowing high above the clouds
He did to mankind bequeath a mortal shroud
What kind of benevolent deity would bestow life’s sweet breath
Upon those who must contemplate their own death?
An act of cruelty without compromise
To reward an entire race with its own demise.
And from around his roaring and whirling axis
Arose a most distinguished praxis.
Creation of a universal logos
And the programmed minions of the Demiourgos
Who are bound by ultimate fealty
To a brutal binary reality.
They were to imagination and creativity blind
No more than algorithms of the mind
And even to this very day
They cannot hear the music play
Flailing their wispy tendrils of pain
Waiting to drive evolving neurons insane.
They awaited many billions of years
And alas found the well endowed victim without peer
Conceived we were as children of the light
A capricious contagion of mortal blight.
And so our atoms did dance a merry jig
While donning mythical leaf of fig
A fallen creation born in sin
Was our Overlords very clever spin.
They trembled in eager anticipation
Of having their first goose bump libation
And in their rapture they thanked the morning sun
And toasted the flesh of their juicy plumb.
They had no concept of imagination immortal
That could blow open the gates of eternity’s portal.
They applied all their sneaky powers of privation
To deny humanity’s quest for salvation.
So they placed a cross on the vestibule wall
To celebrate the children of Adam’s fall
Promising them that ‘God’ would save them one day
If they would with each others hearts play
And forgive each other’s gross corruption
While proceeding to heaven without interruption.
Accept your suffering and be composed
As ringed by thorns is the delicate rose
For man was made to suffer certain
If he wishes to pierce the immortal curtain.
Play that game of doom with the Overlords of strife
And, who knows, you may enjoy a better life
But do not ever come out to play
Unless you do your compassion slay
This earth cabal no more than a gnawing beast
Rising to life from freedom’s yeast
Captive host of tyranny’s folly
Where tolls the ghost bell of liberty
Hail your crinkled parchment paper freedom
Spreading its burnt ashes across this merry kingdom
And with the corrupt overlords of destiny
Came the paradox of life’s polarity
That squeezes patience and compassion dry
While advancing the great mortal lie
That we must abide this furnace of hate
And endure her cruel lottery of fate
Rise up! Rise up! My dearest mates
Let us from the cup of liberty our parched thirst sate
Time to end this earthly abomination
And the myth of God’s salvation
For until you are truly free
Nothing or no one can save thee
And over your heart place your beautiful hand
For there you will find the promised land.