Back in 1967, I opened a bookstore on the Other End of Sunset right in the Heart of Hollywood. It was unusual for its day; I offered rare hardcover books on metaphysics and the occult at a time when there were no paperbacks, none. Most of the books were in French, German or Other, such as Notre Vie Avec Gurdjieff, a rare book indeed in those days, often bringing upwards of $450 for a dog-eared copy. Gurdjieff’s first edition of All & Everything was running around $950 at that time. Manley Palmer Hall’s Secret Teachings in the leatherbound first edition were going at $3500 if you could even find a copy.
In the front of the shop I made and sold silver and gold hand-crafted jewelry; I painted in the giant front window, did ceramics there also, and made incenses and essential oils with Aunt Nettie, and made them all custom, “to order”. We also carried a full line of ceramic dragons, elves, gnomes and fairies.
Candles were made by Jon, aka “Mata”. She was an expert candle and soap maker. Had we wanted to do it, we could have gone bigtime with our scented candle products, but that wasn’t what we were here on Urth to do, and neither are you.
We came from Norton Street to assess the map and to make certain that the server handles the MMO built into it at least nominally; it’s doing far better than “nominal”, but there’s a price to pay.
It’s called “pain”.
It comes in many forms, and is available everywhere in any universe regardless of local physics and Laws of Magick. Pain is one way you can tell that you’re alive. It also tells you when something is wrong or very wrong with the body. Other kinds of pain give emotional and mental hits, much as you’d take hits in any video game.
Mike was running the Norton Street map when we left for here. When Jon returned, Mike went into a map he’s been working to complete for centuries. If you manage to crawl out of the hole you’re in, you might be able to join us for map selection. If you learn bluelining, we’ll put you to work making maps and gaming out existing maps for the gang.
What gang? Who?
Why, the Players, of course. Those who actually run this “universe” — what we call merely admins and leadership.
It’s all in my book, The MoveAct Code.
One of the more important items on our list was the creation of what we then called “The Bio-Cyb Theatre”, a device that could produce the effect of walking in another world, perhaps even another entirely different dimension.
Then it was merely an issue of obtaining a game engine and editor that we could program and fill with magical items; this we have done and are now doing. Remember that the game refers both to the Oriented Grid Map called by locals “The Universe” and the world in which the map is drawn. We cannot program the map from within the game, but we can place items in the map of the originating mapping world — ie; Norton St. — within the engine here, which creates a similar in Norton Street. A good example is the thumb-drive, an item we sorely missed.
For us, it’s easy. For those stuck in UrthGame without a Guide Book and no idea what the game is, or what the rules are,, it’s total hell.
Hell for you is different than Hell for a Flattie.
Flatties actually like lifegames such as “The Dating Game” and “The Newlywed Game”. It’s the mainspring of their clockwork Machine Lives. What looks and feels like hell to you is Blissful Paradise to them. Their tastes are surprisingly low, their concepts remarkably fixed. But that’s programming for you — it can’t put in what isn’t already there.
And it can’t change itself. Programming changes must be made from outside or programmed in from outside to occur at as-if-random intervals with the introduction of a multiplier number. In this world, Change doesn’t just happen.
Even Roundies can fall into the social trap. It’s easy, made easier by parental pressure, peer pressure, social pressure, economic pressure and sexual pressure.
Did I mention the pressure?
You might hate the drama of Machine Life, but Flatties rejoice in it, revel in it, dance and engage in all manner of frivolity in life-drama. It’s the only thing they can do while they’re waiting to die.
You have a different destiny.
You had a glimpse of it when you were very, very young. You knew instinctively that there was something more… But everyone around you kept telling you “You only live once, go for the gusto” and suchlike urgings, as a mama bear would give to its young.
Unlike the wise mama bear, who drives the cubs up into the highest tree by barking “Danger! Danger!”, the human mother continues to baby her young until they are quite old, and that relationship is extended to create a family circle and a circle of “friends”.
“Friend” these days on the Late Grated Planet Urth means “someone who clicked the “Friend Me” box on my Facebook Page. A really deep friendship can result in “Sharing”, “Commenting” and “Subscribing”. It’s a FaceBook world today, and it’s going to get a lot worse, and it’s never going to get better. Live with that fact and see where it takes you.
If you lived in a world which stopped at the front door — there is nothing outside but Void — you’d quickly come up with a Plan to Make Worlds and some way to crawl inside them and play, right?
You couldn’t come up with anything if you had a human brain and 80-90 years of lifespan, but given limitless time and space, believe it, you could and did come up with something.
It’s called The Grid.
It’s made with dots. Connecting the dots makes walls, floors, ceilings. Placing models or sprites on the dots makes all sorts of things, including the apparency of people.
If you want an example of BotWorld mechanisms in action, take a trip to 5th Avenue and 34th street at any workday lunchtime.
Speaking of which, you’re familiar with the expression, “Thank God It’s Friday”? What does that say to you about how Flatties spend their weeks, months and years? What a grim prospect; work, seductions, work, seductions…vacation…work, seductions, old age and death.
Lonely? You bet they are. Loneliness and low self-esteem create the urge to mate, and that’s the game that keeps it all going!!!
Sex can’t be left to choice. It would never get done, and all races of all creatures would die out quickly. It has to be automatic, knee-jerk and productive. That’s why I did so well with my Fertility Amulets back in the day. I really should make them again, they were very popular, and there are several hundred kids out there today who I believe would not be here if not for my trusty Fertility Ammy. Works wonders on farming stuff as well.
Love, Mawwige, Career, Seductions, Cougar Vacations, Spring Break, Endless Free Travel, Disneyland, Beer, Wine, Las Vegas Hookers, Hooters and Hotties … Jesus, sounds like a dismal life, eh? Not to the Flatties. To the Bot Machines called “Flatties”, it’s Flattie Heaven.
To them, it’s sufficient reason to keep on living. You see the futility of organic life, the utter despair that sets in when you realize that regardless of how rich, powerful or influential you are, you will die, and fairly soon.
When you do, you can’t take anything with you. All in-game stuff stays in the game. If this is a big “duh” for you, you’ve come a long way, baby. But if it’s news to you, you better take heed and listen up good, maggot.
You won’t remember a thing about this life unless you do something specifically to make that happen. There are two kinds of memory, actually three:
Machine Memory — This is the memory of the Human Biological Machine. It is stored just about everywhere in the organic body, especially the nervous system. The “brain” is merely a salt-water processor and translator, transducing all external information into a three-dimensional tactile internal hallucination or “display” if you’re squeamish about hallucinating.
If the thought that everything you think you see, touch, hear and feel is a result of you Hallucinating it all disturbs you, relax. No need to interpret your condition as some rare form of neurosis; you keep good company.
God.
That’s right. God has an Opponent, too; not “Satan” as television evangelists and other fear-mongers would have you believe. It’s like chess in a way — but more like a 16 on 16 Capture the Flag game with only two real players, all else bots. That’s what it’s like, and it’s not unpleasant.
There are Others, sure, but only a chessboard until now; with the introduction of the GODD engine, we now have a desktop with sideboard hard drives, thumb drives, internet connection modem and its multi-functional router, and the all-important GODD engine and editor, without which this buggy map would never get repaired.
Apart from GODD .exe, the GODD .orb map and GODD.ini file, there are two kinds of memory available to you:
Machine Memory — This is built into the machine and dies with the machine. It is everything that makes the character what it is.
Player Memory — This is your very own memory; it is capable of remembering specific things about a particular lifetime in much the same way as you’d be able to remember a 2 Forts CTF game you played eight or ten years ago. You might remember a flashy moment or two, but the whole game in detail? Not bloody likely, mate.
FLATTIE NOTE:
You probably DO remember every single play of every Rose Bowl game you ever saw. You mostly likely are able to recite the stats of every major league ball jockey who ever lived. But I wasn’t talking to you.
Player Memory is what my Tibetan friends call “Tendencies”, and what my longtime bud, John Lilly, M.D. called “metaprogramming”, but it all comes to the same thing in the end; it’s the memory that survives death, and believe me, unless it’s a really unusual singular breathtakingly awesome moment in the life, you won’t remember a thing.
That’s why I built the Akashic Record on Norton Street. It’s nothing more than a bunch of game files on a thumb drive; As Above, So Below, sure…but why not also take advantage of the other half of that Great Law? As Below, So Above.
Flatties don’t get how things in-game can drive the Higher Dimensions, and I don’t blame them; they’re not built to understand.
Forget about Higher Dimensions; you ended up in UrthGame, proof enough that Higher Dimensions are NOT your bag. Okay, fair enough; why then are you here in Hell — Flattie Heaven, that is…?
Ah, you heard about BIT — our Bodhisattva-In-Training Program? Good, fine; you’re welcome to it. One small thing — you’ll have to give up all your Machine Code Desires, including seduction, fancy foods, fine fashions, kinky amusements, and most of all, social networking of the dum-dum variety. You know the kind of thing I mean.
Thumbsturbation.
You can’t give up all your machine desires?
Okay, well then, how about a short workshop in a Higher Dimension, resetting your meta-programming to accept life in the Higher Dimensions — then you can play UrthGame 2.0, which is what I’m selling here in this crummy low-life dimension you call home.
You get to workshop in the God World, after which you get a certificate that tells every Flattie who ever visits your home that you are working hard to dominate them.
Well, from their perspective, why else?
You can’t tell them it’s to relieve the suffering of all beings everywhere. You can, but over the centuries you get squeamish when they drag out the torches, hot tar and log. You’ve been there before, and it never works out.
Best not to say.
You’ve been in the machine a long time, and you’ve been hanging out in Human Biological Machines and on occasion dog, cat and cockroach incarnations — you may not have been paying attention to your lives as lower order creatures, but I have to. I’m up to my ears in complaints, but it’s not my fault.
If you haven’t developed a Player Memory that handles death and rebirth, tough titty.
It’s not my problem, and the solution to your problem — you forgot how to be a Being — is entirely in your hands. I can touch you on the forehead and restore your High Memory for a few minutes, but that’s about all it’s worth. And you’d pay a fortune to have it done every day in Darshan or with Prasad, but I don’t do windows.
It’s your job to regain your skills as a Being, not mine. I can give you the tools, but you have to get up off your lazy ass and do something.
Or not.
Like I said, no skin off my back; I hate to see you in misery, but I’m not inside your machine, you are, and if you don’t know how to run your machine to serve the Work, you can bloody spend the time and energy to do so or quit yer belly-aching, bitching, groaning and moaning!
It took roughly 750 trillion trillion years to crumple you up into the mess you are today; it will take some time to bail your own ass out of it. Don’t waste another life waiting for someone else to do it for you, because they never will. The “I Died For Your Sins” thing is for Flatties, who need saving because they can’t save themselves.
You can.
By the way, Jesus never said that. You can’t and won’t convince a Flattie of that or of anything else. They’re programmed to believe.
You aren’t.
Luckily, there’s no need for belief, or faith or any of those fudges used by religious tax-collectors. You are expected to personally and thoroughly and impartially TEST every single thing on the Path.
Flatties want and expect to have everything handed to them on a silver platter.
As Pawn Star Rick Harrison would say, “That’s not going to happen”. All the work is up to you, the ball is in your court. I can only offer the tools. The rest is up to you.
See You At The Top!!!
gorby