Explorations into the Process of Oneness and Equality with Darryl Thomas
Yep. as soon as I can figure out how to upload digital video. There will be a separate page of vlogs that will be an interesting addition to this blog. Okay, under construction and should be up by the weekend. Stay tuned!
Enjoy.
Peaceful, today. A quietness that I mostly take for granted has descended upon me again. This is a little strange, because Denise called me a couple of times on the phone while I was at work, and her incessant pleading to get back together, though a wee tempting, didn’t faze me at all. I don’t know where her head’s at and I can’t help her “find” it. It’s so corny, anyway, this “relationship” jive. Seriously, who needs it?
But, in this moment, I am feeling quiet and settled. Dunno why, but I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
The Steppin’ Razor, Mr. Peter Tosh.
“We’re sick and tired of your ism-schism game/Dyin n goin to Heaven in a-Jesus’s name/
We know and we understand/ Almighty “God” is a Living Man.”
ALMIGHTY GOD IS A LIVING MAN
Repeat if necessary. (That is, if the truth doesn’t “grab” you).
Anyway, lately - like the past week or so, I’ve been in sour, wretched depression over how everything sucks. I haven’t felt this way in a long time. First Denise and I split up, and then I began working this new job, right? Everything seems so shallow and pointless. Don’t worry, I may be depressed but I am not suicidal. (Although, suicide would boost my blog stats).
But I digress. It’s just too late for this world. I’m sorry, but the circumstances that we are in right now checks all optimism. Oh, I’m not too unhappy about it. Let the Kingdom Come! Maybe it’s all for the best. But what gets me is how some people deceive themselves through enlightened bullshit, like: ”Oh, my world has light, love, peace and prosperity, because that’s what I focus on!” Yeah, maybe you can focus on learning to digest plastic, because that’s what is in store for us.
Collectively, the Grand Experiment of the Human Race has ended in abject failure. Yet, Almighty “God” is a living man. How does “God” create such a fuck-up?
Of course, stories about “God” and Angels and Masters need to be put away. They have all been discredited. None of the Masters has ever told us THE REAL STORY. They would rather waste our time and money on fifth-dimensional crystals and Ascensions. Jack, one of the beings that speaks through the portal, has a very interesting youtube series called, History of Man. Jack also is a wonderful wordsmith, and he has recently placed an article on the Desteni forum, which I would like to share with you, now.
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The Organic Robot: Part 1 by Jack
Introduction: Organic: Robot: Within you, the being, amalgamated within and as the mind consciousness system, whereby the mind consciousness system is amalgamated within and as the human physical body: Herein the description, the definition of you, the human being as an Organic Robot. The ‘three in one’: You, the being within the mind consciousness system, the mind consciousness system within the human physical body, the ‘holy trinity’, the manifested triangular formation as the primary construct within which and through which the mind consciousness system exist and create. The mind consciousness system is the manifested design of the unified consciousness field, which is equal to and one with this world as ‘how it exists’. Meaning that the mind consciousness system is the manifested design of the unified consciousness field within and as which you exist within and as this world. Herein, with the mind consciousness system being amalgamated within and as the human physical body – the human physical body becomes the physical manifestation of and as the unified consciousness field, within and as which you exist, through which you create and manifest the unified consciousness field as this world, this reality. The human physical body was constructed to embody the mind consciousness system. Meaning that the particular design of and as the human physical body, was designed in the ‘image and likeness’ of the mind consciousness system. To ‘house’ the mind consciousness system. Herein, each organ within and as the human physical body represents a ‘part of the world system’, within and as this reality within which you exist. Within this document, I will be explaining, describing and giving perspective of how the human physical body, especially the organs within, in relation to the design and manifestation of the mind consciousness system within and as which you participate: Is creating the manifested unified consciousness field as this world system, this reality, within and as which you exist. We’re starting with the HEART ORGAN: To be continued…
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This ought to be good! Woo hoo!
“I want freedom, the right to self-expression, everybody’s right to beautiful, radiant things.” - Emma Goldman (1869-1940)
Recently, I was asked who my hero was. It’s a question that strikes a chord within me differently, depending on what is happening within myself. Some days it is Jesus Christ, who wrote me a letter through the Interdimensional Portal. Sometimes it’s Thor Heyerdahl, the man who built and sailed the Kon-Tiki across the Pacific Ocean from Peru to Rapa Nui, or as it is more widely known, Easter Island. On another day, it could be the late, great science fiction writer, Philip K. Dick, or reggae musician, Peter Tosh.
But after watching Warren Beatty’s fantastic movie, Reds, today’s hero is the return of an old friend, Emma Goldman, the Lithuanian-born American Anarchist, AKA “Red Emma,” who makes a cameo in Reds, was a tireless rebel, a powerful orator who drew large crowds wherever she spoke. Of course, this made her a target of the Federales, who jailed Emma repeatedly in 1893, 1901, 1916, 1918, 1919, and 1921. Her crime usually committed in the act of speaking, but against US involvement in WWI, the advocating of birth control and telling workers if they couldn’t afford to buy bread, then take bread.
Of course, free speech such as this had to be contained,, So Emma would be hounded by the authorities, but she didn’t care much, saying:
“I may be arrested, I may be tried and thrown in jail, but I will never be silent. I will never acquiesce or submit to authority, nor will I make peace with a system that degrades women to a mere incubator. I now and here declare war upon this system and will not rest until a path has been cleared for a free motherhood and a healthy, joyous and happy childhood.”
Emma indeed declared war on the system. Her life was a war against the forces of capitalist, religious and authoritarian oppression.
Emma was even at war with the idea of “God,” which is something that I can behind. She considered Religion just as repressive as Capitalism. And she makes some great points in her article, The Philosophy of Atheism, for Mother Earth magazine
She writes in The Philosophy of Atheism, Mankind has been punished long and heavily for having created its gods; nothing but pain and persecution have been man’s lot since gods began.” And at the end of this piece, she concludes, “Atheism in its negation of gods is at the same time the strongest affirmation of man, and through man, the eternal yea to life, purpose, and beauty.”
What manner of woman was this? It would take J. Edgar Hoover to remove Emma from the United States, along with the arrest of 10,000 other anarchist and communist “subversives” living in twenty-five different cities. In an unprecedented deportation sweep that sent 241 “subversives” to Russia. Emma had earned her fame of being “the most dangerous woman alive,” because of her unrelenting vision of absolute freedom and her stinging commentaries on the era’s social conventions (marriage being nothing more than “legalized prostitution”). As far as politics, she remarked dryly, “If voting changed anything, they’d make it illegal.” Emma would live in exile for the rest of her life, although she did travel the world helping workers and revolutionaries whenever she could. She died in Toronto in 1940. Her body was buried in Chicago. She lived a life of dedication to the ideal of freedom.
When the Portal interviews began last August, Emma Goldman was one of the first beings I wanted to speak. I had already seen the other interviews I suggested by Peter Tosh and Philip K. Dick, so when Bernard said the Emma Goldman would come through. I was very excited. Several weeks passed before Bernard posted a message saying that Emma Goldman wouldn’t be coming through the Portal because the White Light, angry over how she tried to get people to wake up, wiped her so completely, that nothing was left but the resonance connection. Mother Teresa pretty much said that if a person “got wise” to what was going on in the dimensions, when that being crossed over, they would be completely “wiped.” Nothing left. So it was with Emma.
You can’t hear me, Emma, or read these words. There would never be salvation for your soul, because the soul was a prison and a death for you. But I am grateful for your selfless example. You couldn’t make it there with us, but you pointed the way. So, thank you. I take what you were into me, as equal and one.
Ah, second shift arrives in ten minutes.
Look, I needed mo’ money, mo’ money, mo’ money!
So I went out and got another job. And as someone as anti-capitalist as your dear blogger, trying to sell widgets to people who don’t really want them is a drag. The job has been interesting. Working in a gigantic call center is a new experience. I’m still in training, casted over to the “bullpen” where the noobs learn the ropes. It’s okay, even though it takes up almost every waking hour of my day. By nightfall, I can barely keep my eyes open. OMG! Time to go to bed already? These 15 hour work days are murder!
Thus far, this exploration into Oneness and Equality, has been a dud. I forgive myself for accepting and allowing myself to judge P : S - H as a “dud.” What I meant to say is that the Self - Honesty Process is very, very difficult to pull off. I find myself resisting to write purely form the point of brutal self - honesty, preferring to write about the many distractions that interest me. I had expectations. I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to have expectation on how easy writing a blog on the process of self - honesty would be. What an arrogant conceit that was. I forgive myself that I accepted and allowed myself to consider myself as defining myself as manifesting an arrogant conceit.
An arrogant conceit however, must have a starting point of the illusion of superiority within me. This realization has been leaking into my experiences with others, lately, manifesting as an irritation that nibbles away at me. Yes, I see now what has happened to me when I participate willingly in friction of minds grinding away at each other from the opposing poles of “Superior” and “Inferior.”
My great - grandmother had a small painted ceramic plaque that hung on the wall behind the stove in the kitchen. It used to make me laugh when I read it’s logical question, “If you’re so smart, why ain’t you rich?” From that singular question, I equated money with intelligence. My family was on welfare, so I didn’t feel very smart. I also didn’t do well in school unlike my sisters who all managed to get straight A’s their entire career at school. But I was well - read, thanks to Dad’s investment of the World Book Encyclopedia, which I read every single page from A to Z starting in the first grade. I didn’t understand most of it, obviously, but being a bookworm fed that particular arrogance of “being smarter” than those that didn’t read.
Anyway - getting back to the point - lately, my arrogance of superiority over others who “don’t fucking get it,” or are “too fucking stupid to get it” has manifested repeated occurrences of people presenting their idiocies to me. Why? I had a better idea, one I thought made perfect sense! Just leave me the hell alone!
Maybe by placing myself as “superior,” I am attracting “inferior” responses from others whom I share my world with at this time.
The opposite of this dynamic has been shown to me, as well. Today I went down to the Irish Pub to watch a football match, I did it for me, as a “break” ahead of an intense work schedule I have committed myself. Then I went over to visit some friends whom I had a falling - out with, who were members of about three or four reggae bands we had been in together. The latest falling - out had to do with a perceived element of “competition” we had between us. He thought he were a “better musician” than me because he knew more chords than I did and knew how to solo. I thought I was the better musician because I proved that my original material was popular with our audiences. So we commenced into showing the other up. and when he tried to do that with a new band member, I quit. I mean, “what an asshole,” I thought. “He’s just jealous.” And so on.
I hadn’t been over to the house for over a year. But I had been talking to the wife periodically, and she kept asking me to check out their rehearsals. So I did.
We hung out for a while and soon the other players in the current band they’re in began filing in. Eventually I was asked to sing a couple of songs. And I did. It was cool, because I do rock as a singer.
When it was time to leave, it felt like all the hard feelings and bitterness we had held for each other had vanished. Maybe we were conducting themselves with a friendly front. Maybe we just decided to treat ourselves as one and equal to each other. Hmm… Imagine that.
Postmodern tautology? Ernie Bushmiller’s Nancy
I wanted to be a cartoonist when I was a young boy. This was after I realized that I could draw in kindergarten. When it came time to draw a house, I’d draw a house in two-point perspective, capturing one side of the house. Because just drawing the front of the house was b o r i n g.
Cartoons were something very easy for me to understand. They normally told jokes, and were very simple in presentation. In my hometown newspaper, the Toledo Blade, there was a peach-colored insert that was called, “the Peach Section.” Apparently named for the Mell Lazerus cartoon, “Miss Peach” that was featured every weekday along with the Family Circus cartoon. I liked “Miss Peach,” because the titular character was a teacher and the cartoon took place inside the classroom at Kelly School. Funny jokes, simply drawn and easy to relate to. Of course I had to read the comics section in the Blade, too. My favorites were Peanuts, Beetle Bailey, The Wizard of Id, B.C., Blondie and Hi and Lois. Nancy was probably the funniest of the all, right up there with Peanuts. Laughing at comic strips was just so much fun.
I discovered comic books at the old Kroger grocery store located at Swayne Field, which used to be the old ball park where the old Toledo Mud Hens baseball team played. It was a Green Lantern comic book. I saw a rack full of comic books and asked my mother to buy me one, and to my surprise, she did! Oh, my “God,” I was hooked. I decided to try and draw super-heroes and while I wasn’t particularly good, I was always getting better at it. At least the other kids at school thought so. I was always the best artist in my class, always! I doodled and drew in my notebooks instead of studying, which may be why I did so poorly in school when it came to certain subjects I hated, like math and science. For some reason Language Arts and History were always my favorite subjects, but I still doodled more than I studied.
You know, I used drawing as a protection in a way, because I was a shy, skinny shit and could not defend myself from bullies. If I couldn’t joke my way of getting beat up, then I’d draw them something, which seemed to hold a strange, fragile power to mollify them for a moment.
This carried on until I got into high school. By the time I reached my second year in high school, the stoner next to me would poke me in the ribs and would want to look at my notebook to look at the pictures a I drew - well, actually, I drew heads of different people - hundreds of them. Goofy, realistic, cartoony, stylized - my heads were a big hit with the “heads” in my class.
But by the time I left high school and entered college, I knew that my cartooning “career” would never get of the ground because I didn’t think I was “good enough” or “funny enough” to get paid for it. So I put my cartooning aside and concentrated on music, because I always wanted to be in a band. I know, what can be more vain that being in a band?
So the years pass and I find myself in my late twenties getting the itch to draw again, This time around I was being influenced by hip cartoonists like Dan Clowes, Chester Brown, Harvey Pekar, Crumb, David Boswell, Bill Griffiths, Charles Burns and many others. These comics were bizarre, anarchic, shocking and brutally funny. I gave it another go. I managed to sell my idea of a comic strip to a small local paper in Isla Vista, California called, “The Alien.” It was a cross between Bill Griffith’s “Zippy” and Chester Brown’s “Yummy Fur.” It ran for ten issues before the newspaper went out of business. Devastated but not deterred, I worked with a pretty good gag writer to develop a comic strip for the syndicates, but that didn’t work out because he was always doing coke and was too difficult to work with, really.
Then in 1990, while I was living in Hollywood, my biggest break occurred. I received a tip from my ex-girlfriend who was attending CalArts with the news that some animation studio was desperately looking for storyboard artists to help with the second season of “The Simpsons” television show. Apparently, nobody expected it to be a hit, and the network had ordered another year’s worth of animation.
So I went down to the studio, picked up a tape of about 15 minutes worth of dialog that I was being auditioned for, and holed up for a long July 4th weekend, scribbling like a madman.
I was very pleased with what I did. I felt I really nailed it cold!
I turned in my audition. I was supremely confident! I was already spending the money I knew I was going to make in my mind. I waited and came back the next week for an answer. “Oh,” some young guy behind a desk said slowly. “Yee-yaah. The directors didn’t really like your work.”
My heart sank like a stone. “Why? What was wrong with it?” I was confused, because I had really nailed the sonuvabitch.
“Well, the directors said it was too weird.”
“What?” I had seen a couple of shows. The Simpson’s was a weird cartoon. “I though “weird” was what you were going for.”
“Would you like to be a background artist?”
I had no clue what a background artist did, so in fear of getting the gig and being exposed as a fraud, I declined and walked out of the building.
It was a couple of years later when I happened to be watching the very same episode that I did the storyboard for, and those bastards used my storyboard, anyway! I was told that this was a common practice in Hollywood. Free labor, and if you bitch about it, you’ll get blacklisted.
So I kept drawing, because I had found my “line.” All good cartoonists have a “line.” It’s that stroke that defines the cartoonist, and all strokes are like fingerprints. This made drawing interesting, and I suppose I lost myself in drawing in the way I did.
Fast-forward several years, I pitch my cartoons without much success, until I hear from this guy who’s looking for cartoons to be placed in a comic book he was publishing on his own. So we met at the Coffee Table in the Short North of Columbus, Ohio and I showed him my cartoons, which he LOVED! He said he couldn’t wait to print them, so he took my originals so he could run off a proof copy for me -
- and I never saw him again. He’d left town with my artwork. I guess I just gave up. Because I put the Rapidograph pen down and never picked it up again. What was the point, right?
And what is the point of this long-winded article about my failed cartooning “career?” Well, I am reading the biography of Charles Schultz, the late, great, world-famous creator of “Peanuts” newspaper strip, and I’m floored that Charles Schulz, the cartoonist’s cartoonist, the king of the heap, the most influential force outside of R. Crumb in the history of Sequential Art, with all the success and the recognition and everything that he had garnered, was a very unhappy man who thought that people didn’t really like his work! According to David Michaelis’s book, “Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography,” while he enjoyed what he was able to accomplish, success failed to make him happy. According to this book, Schulz was depressed most of his life. And here I am believing that there’s nothing left wrong with that money couldn’t cure. Here I am, a complete, absolute wash-out of an artist and only moderately depressed. And here is Schulz, the Giant of Comics since the early 1960s, wealthy, successful, with an adoring family, who had everything, and he was, according to this book, allegedly nearly clinically depressed his entire adult life. It just doesn’t make any sense!
WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE???
Oh, man. It’s like an addiction with me. Well, “like an addiction” is kind of redundant. I should say, “it’s an addiction.” That would be more correct.
And what is this habit, this problem I have? Well, it’s called trying to tell people what’s good for them. Trying to tell someone what they really should be doing, acting or thinking. Trying to bring the best out of someone else.
What am I, an idiot?
It’s so ludicrous. And I always say something that either confuses the person or else I come off like a big know-it-all-busy body, which is the kind of person I can’t stand.
I get it. There are some people beyond help. And if I can’t reach them, it’s okay. I don’t have to forgive myself for trying to get thru to them.
I can’t help but to try, sometimes. It’s not something I do everyday. But it’s dangerously close to becoming a hobby.
I can only work on becoming more self-aware and more confident of myself.
It’s something called, “the Mother Matrix System.” I must have inherited it from my mother.
If you haven’t heard of the Mother Matrix System Demon, well, here’s a good clip from Desteni Productions that will break it down for you.
Enjoy!
I would love to be in a relationship.
But at the same time, this can’t be for me, right now. I’ve got things to do that I ain’t never done before. It’s quite daunting to ponder that I will never be in another relationship. The prospect of being alone is very challenging to my ego. Even more than money or power, “Love” has long held an alluring, seductive hold over me. Perhaps it was because I didn’t receive “enough love” as a child. I was addicted, it seems, to the emotion like a drug. I needed another to feel good about myself, to feel special. To feel “loved.”
But, it was just an emotion, this “love.” In every case, it came from nowhere and quietly left. Every time. I eventually figured it out. I was in love with a fleeting emotion, not with another woman. I could easily justified staying with this woman after the “love had gone,” easy. I did it before in each of my previous marriages. That’s not a cool realization when there seems to be no alternative. My biggest justification was that relationships kept me from being aloe. And that was it, basically. So dishonest, to myself and my mates. Oh, and I loved the sex, too. That is probably the biggest thing to give up! LOL Sex and emotion. What a combination! Maybe I’ll cover this in more detail, tomorrow.
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