Chapter 20 – in which we return to Chapter 1 and wysiwyg

“0=1” mutters Josh the Jubilant... trying to figure it out for once and for all.

“What was that?” Gill enquires.

“0=1... I’m sure it has to be incredibly obvious, I just can’t for the life of me seem to get it clear in my mind.”

“No, of course not Josh. You were never supposed to get it clear in your mind.”

“Then how am I supposed to Be? How can I change everything and fix the mess I see around me?”

Gill laughs affectionately. “Why on Earth would you want to “fix the mess” as you put it?”

“Well isn’t that the whole point? Isn’t that what we’re doing here at g-nome portal?”

Gill laughs and laughs till tears run down her face, and strange to say it but Josh doesn’t feel annoyed. Her laughter seems to lift something in his heart. He joins in the merriment laughing too.

“So you see,” Gill says in a lull in the laughter, “how could we fix what isn’t broken – what is working perfectly? It was the good intentions of the Story Strategy Council and most of humanity’s attempts to “sort things out” that have taken us deeper into the confusion and chaos of I-mind/it matters. All of our fixings and sorting and correctings only removed us further from the moment Now, from the isness of Be... only got in the way of the narrative which has to constantly oscillate between darkness and light, male – female, between its two poles of north and south in order to remain unified, to be One.”

“Well isn’t that just it, Gill. You’re talking about it being One – so then it would be One equals One, as opposed to zero.”

“Of course it would, and thus it is – One indeed equals One – for what it’s worth.”

“Which goes to show that everything I’ve learnt at g-nome portal has been wrong.”

“Yes, indeed.”

Josh receives this like a heavy blow. He’d not realised it but the strange, mystical formula 0=1 however outlandish it had seemed, had nonetheless offered hope – for how else was the circle to be squared, how else were things to be put right? It had to be something so fundamental, so simple, so clear that it cut through all else, all of matter and what not... but now even Gill, how was it possible, even Gill had admitted it was false, and somewhere deep within he felt a loathing – a hate – I knew I couldn’t trust her, I knew she couldn’t really have the answer, or Dorothy, or Nerys even... they don’t think the way we do, these women, they don’t really understand the nature of things...”

“The nature of things?” Gill interrupts his angry thoughts – “No, we don’t need to understand the nature of things, for “nature” and “things” are far apart. We understand nature, and know what matters.”

“You know what matters? How can you say that? You’ve just admitted that one in fact equals one, that everything I’ve learnt at g-nome has been wrong...”

“And in doing so I’ve helped you find the last level of your defences – the deepest antagonism – the belief that the woman, the female is your enemy – that she stands between you and what matters, that she prevents you from knowing and understanding what is.”

“Well, if she’s going to be illogical and change her tune midway through the argument, then obviously it’s impossible to speak with her as an equal. You can’t reason with the devil.”

And again Gill erupts in more of this inexplicably light, crystal bell-like laughter. “How is possible she can laugh at such a moment,” Josh thinks to himself, and carries on thinking until his malice and anger is fully dissolved by her lighthearted mirth... and he joins her once more in laughter and merriment.

“There is no thing to explain, dear Josh,” says Gill jubilantly. “Nothing has ever been explained or proven that way, for the mind is like a dog that’s got a bone between its teeth and just won’t let go. Only when you’re back in spirits, back in joy can you see the wood from the tree, can you feel, can you know...”

A pause... as Josh feels what she’s saying, before involuntarily he lets slip:

“Know what?” and then he too starts laughing, knowing the absurdity of it all.

“So “zero equals one”, paradoxically, in no way contradicts one equals one, nor zero equals zero.”

“I don’t get it Gill, for the first time I’m able to feel what you’re saying but my mind is...paralysed.”

“Mercifully, it’s finally come to accept its limits – thanks to the deeper truth that you’re feeling and allowing through.”

“But I can’t live without knowing – it’ll drive me mad.”

“Who said anything about living without knowing? Knowing, however, is first and foremost a feeling, a female thing – it’s deep intuition and it harbours no doubt because it comes from the isness and our oneness with all that is.”

“Ok. I can feel that now. But what about understanding – is there any way I can explain it to myself?”

“Yes, of course there is, just as soon as you’ve recognised the real obstacle standing between you and knowing what is...”

“Which is?”

“As we’ve seen – a deep suspicion of the other side – of the female if you’re male, of the male if you’re female – a suspicion that we don’t like to admit to ourselves, that we hide in logic and rationality... which provokes all our emotional remonstrances...”

“Strange... I can’t for the life of me see why I should have been so angry with you – and accused you like I did of not being able to know. I can accept rationally that women can see things differently, but a moment ago it was like...”

“Like I was the anti-Christ, the devil coming between you and completely knowing – that if only you crushed me, eliminated me from the equation, you’d have finally got the long sought after answer to all that is.”

“... yes, ... er, how did you know?”

“Been there Josh already. We’re all the same you know, it’s just women are on one side of the life-matter curve,”

“And we’re on the other? So which of us are the goblins?”

“E-n-b.”

“Either – neither – both... Yes, I see. But really, in all seriousness, how can a woman’s mental inconstancy be of any service in the quest for truth?”

“Do you have any idea how many enemies you’ve just made by stereotyping us in that way Josh? Most women today think the same way men do – they’ve been educated that way. They’re not going to take kindly to you effectively saying they aren’t educated! But polemic aside – the female side of the equation can be cyclical like the moon, and that would certainly appear to the male sun to be inconstant with its waxing and waning, it’s lightening and darkening. The women for their part, especially the wise ones of old – the witches, as you called them, were at a complete loss to see how men could be so blind to the obvious secrets of nature – the truths as opposed to the monolithic truth. They saw and still do see everything in terms of ebb and flow, birth, death and rebirth. They didn’t need to talk about “reincarnation” they just felt and knew that nothing is created or destroyed, and they learnt how to interact beautifully, magically, elegantly with the cycles of nature, and their own inner cycles. They would, at times, allow themselves to go into what appears to be madness, the dark side, to replenish themselves, to emerge with new wisdom and strength, until the men prevented this by imposing a new story and burying the old.”

“So men persecuted the divine feminine you mean?”

“Men persecuted the divine masculine no less than the divine feminine – for both are ultimately one... 0=1”

“But I thought...”

“Yes, you thought, but I’m not bound by your rules of non-contradiction. Let’s allow paradox free rein to work its magic. The wind is unconstrained to blow from West and from East. The moon to rise in the day and in the night... to wax and to wane, but instead of focussing on the words themselves, isn’t it time you expanded beyond the what of word and felt the breath instead?”

“How do you mean the breath?”

“Well, how do you breathe?”

“Like everyone else – in and out.”

“And which is more important?”

“...er, does there have to be a more important side to breathing? Surely they’re equal.”

“That’s what you think rationally, while being objective, but in your driver’s seat of prejudice, the part of your mind that identifies with your masculinity, you inevitably think something different.”

“I do?”

“Yes, give it a moment – feel it and you’ll see.”

Josh takes a moment to feel his breath – to feel which side is more important.

“It’s strange Gill. Objectively I know you can’t have one without the other, that breathing in and breathing out must be equal, yet in my mind I notice there’s this leaning to one side – that breathing in is somehow more.”

“Correct.”

“But why?”

“Think on it – tell me yourself.”

Again Josh breathes in and out – getting himself balanced and calm till the answer comes of itself.

“Because breathing in is more a doing – and I’m more a doing person, as a man.”

“Yes, that’s right – and a woman can be too – no less.”

“And also because breath is bringing life into me – like the word “inspire” whereas breathing out is more like “expire”.“

“Correct, correct. So you see how the mind leans one way.”

“But isn’t that natural – I mean – shouldn’t we be on the side of life as opposed to death, or good as opposed to evil.”

“You should if you’re part of the I-mind/it matters game of life, in which case you’ll spend the whole of your life, every minute of every day learning what the consequences of your only too natural human bias are.”

“You don’t mean to say that being positive about breathing in causes suffering or harm?”

“I don’t mean to say anything. If you come back into the natural rhythm of your breath, the natural rhythm of your heart beat, the natural rhythm of the moon, or the seasons or the ages of man, you’ll see that there are not two sides in fact – there is a wave that rises and falls, and preferring the front side of the rising wave to the back side of the descending wave merely pulls you from centre and ensures you come out of isness into “itness of what”. Welcome to 3D reality. It’s yours to enjoy – should you so choose – or yours to destroy – or yours to...”

“To what, Gill?”

“Dot dot dot...” the third – neither creating nor destroying – just experiencing wholeheartedly, fully.”

“But how?”

“How what?”

“How can we experience life wholeheartedly when it’s so obviously skewed one way – and so bloody painful too?”

Gill tries her best, really she tries to keep a straight face – she does – I know, for I do too – but a curve creeps into her lips, a smile into her eyes, a chuckle, a laugh, and then once again full bellied irrepressible laughter.

Admittedly, at first Josh doesn’t get it – can’t see what’s so funny as he’s caught up in his thoughts, maudlin, which have inevitably strayed to one side... but laugher, as they say, is infectious, and laughter heals, and laughter lifts Josh lightly, gaily, effortlessly back onto curve, back into breath and equanimity and...

Dot dot dot

Why not try it best beloved g-nomers (bbgs)?

“What... try laughing?” they ask, wiping their eyes after joining Gill and Josh in their latest bout of laughter yoga, laughter therapy...

The chat rooms are truly a happy place and a happy face, with the sound stream enabling our bbgs to hear as well as read. Those of you who have missed out on the infectious laughter may be feeling a little in the dark, but if you try the magic of breath I guarantee you’ll be able to breathe in the infectious golden gaiety of laughter that’s nestling between the words on this page.

“Between the words? Isn’t that what Gill was referring to when inviting Josh to go beyond “the what of word”?”

Correct, for between the words is a space, no less important than the outbreath, no less pregnant and full of meaning than the 9 month gestation period before giving birth. We have tended to focus on the “it”, the thing, and ignored the silence, the space, the darkness between, and then we try to rectify that by starting a new thing, a new “it” such as meditating.

“What have you got against meditating? Isn’t that a good way to connect with the other side?”

Yes and no.

“What do you mean?”

Precisely that – yes and no. Yes, it’s a good way – no it isn’t.

“But that doesn’t help me...” you seem to frown.

No, not until you breathe it and feel it for what it’s worth, for what it is... then you see, then you know.

And bbgs do just this – breathing my “yes and no” and again, as before, the pause, the space, the moment out of time, the little darkness allows the light to shine through. You get it effortlessly, and doing so, reconnect with curve.

“So meditation can be as much a doing thing as anything else – especially when it’s like a king making a minor concession to his people rather than hearing them in the spirit of equality and oneness.”

Yes, and to be honest – if the king did start listening and responding in the spirit of equality and oneness, he would not remain king for long – there would be no point.

“The people would take advantage of him you mean, or overthrow him?”

No, we’d come back to the natural state of being, where the very notion of a king is sufficiently absurd to split your sides in full bellied laughter... and once again, your patient forbearance beloved readers, we find ourselves dissolving in laughter – this time led by the narrator of this blog, Theophilus I-be-Merry, who somewhat fails in his task of remaining inconspicuous; but let the walls come tumbling down.

Chumba Wumba looks over his shoulder – which almost stops Theophilus in his tracks, but laughter is infectious even to trolls, and the chandeliers in Theophilus’ office start swaying to and fro as Chumba bellows forth his own spluttering, basso version.

Josh, by this point is looking somewhat indignant – “what’s the point having an editorial team and narrator if they keep butting into the story...” he thinks aloud, as we all do, whether we’re aware of it or not.

Gill has neither the desire nor the need to answer – because Josh almost immediately gets the flipside of this and every other thought – the outbreath to the in... “0=1” he murmurs to himself, and settles back into the narrative, back into story which sees him returning to a world, the same world where he started so many years ago... if you’re willing, that is, to accept that 1,300 years have passed.

He’s sitting in his room watching this beetle flying around, banging into the window. Instead of worrying about helping it get out, or considering it a distraction from all the so much more important things he has to think about and get on with, he allows himself to settle into his breath of the moment – feeling the waves of space and time gently undulating throughout, picking us up, ever so slightly, dropping us down...

A moment passes – or maybe more – tis no matter – and the next thing he knows he’s calling out “Roger, I’m coming,” though he can’t for the life of him work out who Roger is, and or where he might be going.

Now Josh puts down the pen he was holding and does something he almost never normally does – he starts breathing magically, as if his breath is connecting him to the beetle that’s flying around, to the room and the dot dot dot – what is not, between.

It feels – so good, so natural, so completely Now... From a vantage point high on the wall Gill observes Josh holding up his arms, not exactly flapping them, not exactly doing anything at all – but in some way using his arms with his breathing to complete the oneness, the connectedness with nought.

“With nought?” – yes – even now, even here our bbgs have the right to ask questions, to dispute or doubt – but the answer is best received through the breath, through the space between words, the inherent beauty, power and poetry of life itself – the isness of be.

From our perspective, Josh seems to completely mould into the moment and without quite knowing how or what or why or anything for that matter – he seems to melt into the fully present moment – the 27^th if you’re a goblin.

“You mean he dematerialises?” asks Applemac74 from the chatroom.

Difficult to say, for allowing myself to stay in the moment, to breathe Story I see something different unfold, but had I remained shallow of breath and on one side of my life-matter curve – yes – he’d definitely have dematerialised.

“So what do you see?”

Ah, best beloved g-nomer – you know I adhere strictly to the wysiwyg protocol.

“The what?”

“What you see is what you get”. So any readers who are following Josh in breathing are now with him in... whereas those who have remained in I-mind/what matters are able to observe the empty room, and are free to wander around, checking every possible place where he could be hiding, reconsidering every possible explanation for what has just, without a shadow of doubt, happened.

This seems to be a kind of a hundred^th monkey moment – as one by one the many bbgs in the chatrooms switch to 0=1 and allow the isness to reassert its natural primacy over seem. And now the chatrooms are almost empty as one by one our many beloved g-nomers find themselves in continuation of story.

Patricia is still holding out, hoping against hope that something rational will happen, and Bluebottle likewise, but as the ether remains hauntingly quiet, yet charged with moment, they too seem to catch the bug.

Patricia: “What do you think Bluebottle – these guys seem to be onto something.”

Bluebottle: “You know – I’d be the last to admit it – but I’ve a gut feeling that this is for real. What do you say we give it a go?”

Patricia: “I will if you will...”

And the two of them effortlessly join the gentle, barely perceptible 0=1 space of...

Chapter 18 – in which Petra and Magellan invoke dot3 and...

“So that’s it...”

“What do you mean that’s it? You can’t just end there.”

“You know the rules Magellan – I end exactly where the thread breaks. Period.”

“But our team’s working on it – we’re gonna fix the thread and you can continue.”

“No.”

“But we can’t just leave story hanging in the air like that – what on Earth are you thinking of? There’ll be a public outcry.”

“Most undoubtedly – but that, presumably, is what Story itself wants.”

“Story doesn’t want anything of the sort. Story wants resolution.”

“No, that’s what we thought. That’s what we were told – but...”

“But what?”

“But...”

Petra lapses into silence – then quietly utters the unthinkable, with neither fear nor animosity: “dot dot dot”.

Turning white as a sheet, Magellan looks at Petra with blank incredulity. It cannot be – surely she hadn’t said it – “surely I dreamt it” – Magellan thinks to himself, desperately clutching at straws.

“You heard me right,” Petra continues, “I have no choice but to invoke dot₃.”

“You can’t,” Magellan hisses. “You don’t know what you’re doing, you’re mad. Stop it right now, before it’s too late.”

“Too late? Don’t make me laugh. If you think you can prevent the tide of Story breaking over humanity you’re sadly mistaken, Magellan. I have seen her.”

“You can’t have. It’s not possible.”

“I have seen her. I have spoken to Dorothy. The time has come. Story is being released in all its power and glory. I invoke dot₃ – and not a moment too soon.”

“Then it is done. I dare not stand in your way. Be it so.”

“Be it so.”

Petra and Magellan sign the minutes of the meeting and leave the inner sanctum of g-nome portal – the Story Strategy Council, knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.

You might shrug and assume this is just hyperbole – that nothing is ever, in fact, the same again, but there you would be completely mistaken. You see, as long as the Story Strategy Council has been devising story endings for the last few thousand years or more, they have succeeded in ensuring that really nothing changes in our 3D reality.  Oh, we may have had technological breakthroughs, changes of government, minor improvements in our standard of living, but all in all, with the same basic story template we’re not going anywhere. And I’m not referring to whether a story has a happy or sad ending – because neither makes a great difference when all is said and done. No, I’m referring to its imprint – how it stamps and seals reality with its weightiness, for story has become matter of fiction rather than stuff of dreams.

To what end – you might ask, and that is truly the mother of all questions, but not the kind of thing I’m at liberty to discuss with all and any. But trust me, best beloved g-nomers, as soon as you allow yourself to feel what I’m talking about, as opposed to thinking it, you yourself can tune in, can extract whatever it is you require – the essential essence or isness; nought that matters.

There are some, of course, who consider the Story Strategy Council an abomination – that it should never have been set up in the first place. After all, Story is paramount. If humanity is to grow and flourish, it needs must have access to the unvarnished truth – which only raw, unedited Story has to offer as opposed to the storification which is currently being peddled. Presumably, however, this not being so indicates that Story itself has chosen to play this trick upon humanity – in which case – what can we say? We cannot argue with the Source of all sense and meaning – all truth. That would be... [dot dot dot]

“Absurd.”

Yes dear reader. So let us go on a journey into sense and meaning and ascertain what is... [dot dot dot]

“What is what?” one is tempted to ask, but we’ve already gone down that road and have seen it is futile – that it only leads back into I-mind/what matters. No, that mind is unable to serve us on this quest, and so we allow ourselves to accept the three dots – unimaginatively known as dot₃.

“But what does that achieve?”

Ah – do you really believe there is something that needs to be “achieved”. Trust for a moment the isness – that everything perfectly Is – despite what seems to be, despite that which I-mind/what matters would have us think or believe.

“So you want me to just trust blindly that everything’s ok?”

Not in the least. I want you to trust that nothing can be ok as long as we’re constantly engaged in engineering fake endings, fake solutions, none of which come close to the simple truth, the purity, the grace, the beauteous essence of that which simply Is. Period.

“Still it sounds like you’re asking me to take it on trust – to stop thinking, to stop looking for solutions...”

To stop trying to improve on Story. Trust me – it cannot be done. Story is always one step ahead, always able to create whatever needs to be created at exactly the right moment, in just the right way.

“But it’s only Story. What’s Story to people living in the real world, with real problems, real concerns?”

What’s Story? Well, let’s look at your world for a minute – let’s look at the state it’s in.

Here at g-nome portal it’s astonishingly easy to scan any Matrix, any reality, so that’s precisely what we now do. Much in the same way a hacker can look into your computer and see how it’s working, we run a systems analysis of the whole of Earth based 3D reality in about 7.4 seconds. Admittedly, point four is probably giving you more information than required, but that’s the figure that pops up on the screen when it’s complete – so I’m just passing on what I can see.

Ouch! That looks pretty bad. Wars, famine, abuse in every shape and form imaginable, a massive division between rich and poor, environmental, ecological degradation, and the list goes on for half an hour. All in all, a near complete disconnect between Seem and Is.

“That’s what I don’t get...”

No, it’s hardly surprising. The system has been set up flawlessly so it’s almost ungettable. You’re supposed to assume it’s business as normal – that Earth based reality is functioning the only way it can – which is true, up to a point.

“Explain.”

Well, reality cannot function better than the hardware or software it’s using. Nor can it function better than the Story version it’s running.

“What...  you mean that Story’s a kind of computer programme?”

More, much more than a programme.

“Then what?”

Oh dear, every time we come back to the same old “what”. Not what – anything but what. What has been inserted into Story to ensure that Earth based reality runs itself into the brickwall of its own internal contradictions – its own creation.

“But why?”

To be honest “why” is no better than “what”. All of these question words are much of a much.

“Look, I can’t help using words – so if you can’t handle me asking questions then I’ll just...”

There’s nowhere to go to, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It’s over. Believe me. Why do you think the Matrix closed down for 1,300 years when Josh collapsed it?

“Whyever not – if he was stupid enough to collapse it what can you expect?”

If it were healthy and strong, if it were resilient it would have gone down for a few nanoseconds, two or three seconds at most, a minute at the furthest stretch of the wildest imagination, but never 1,300 years.

“Well how am I supposed to know? You’re the one with privileged access to all the information – why don’t you tell me?”

To be honest, I know no more than you do – and if you find that hard to believe let’s run a scan right now to prove it.

 “Ok... Look, how can I be sure that this scan’s telling the truth? Maybe your machines are just giving you the information you want to hear.”

If that were so, the Earth would long since have collapsed under the weight of its own internal contradictions. You see, it’s been haemorrhaging for millennia – though it’s accelerating now as we enter the event horizon. These “machines”, as you call them are what enable g-nome operatives to perform emergency repairs that have kept the ship afloat just long enough to make it to the next commercial break, at which point reality is shut down for several years and we give it a thorough overhaul. If you can’t rely on the analysis that’s the only thing keeping the patient alive for many years now, then why don’t you switch off the artificial respirator and walk out of the emergency ward you’re currently residing in?

“Ok, ok – no need to be belligerent. Look – if you say I have access to the same information as you do – then what do you expect me to say – I’m basically in the dark. I can see everything you’re saying about the world I live in is true – the pollution, the decay, the corruption – but I can’t for the life of me see how the catastrophe can be averted, nor can I tell why the Matrix is coming apart at the seams right now.”

Coming apart at the what?

“Coming apart at the seams. It’s not like the problems are localised to one area – they’re everywhere. Reality’s like a garment that’s now coming apart at the seams. Patching it ain’t going to help.”

Amazing. I knew you could do it.

“Do what? ...I haven’t done anything.”

But don’t you see – “coming apart at the seems” – it was your precise expression.

“No, you spelt that wrong – I said coming apart at the seams, ea, not seems, ee.”

But don’t you see – these words sound the same because at a deeper level they are just that. Now, please don’t allow yourself to think about this – I guarantee I-mind/what matters will mock it and block it – in the same way it mocks and blocks anything that’s fundamentally true.

“It does?”

It has to – otherwise it would make itself redundant. It only has a job as long as you’re stuck in the version of reality where “I mind” and “what matters”. As soon as you revert to Is, to your natural state – it’s out of a job – it reverts back to being a simple logic gate. Quite a loss of status, wouldn’t you say?

“What – the great human mind that has given us nuclear bombs and wireless internet would revert to being a simple logic gate? You’re telling me.”

Actually, the 3D mind did not give you nuclear bombs or wireless internet – all great inventions came through the unconscious connection to the universal Mind – they were downloaded by scientists and inventors in their sleep or in flashes of inspiration, in the same way the works of Shakespeare, Beethoven and all the great artists came from the so called Muse – not the localised mind.

“Ok, point taken. So, what’s the big issue you were making about coming apart at the seams? I don’t quite follow.”

Well, this current reality is a garment which has been worn as long as is physically possible. It’s been stitched and patched countless times. In a sense, we the gnomiki at g-nome portal are equally culpable in all this.

“You are?”

Yes – we felt honour bound to do our best to maintain and preserve it – and it has been our great act of love and service, as well as creative endeavour to make this reality as real as was humanly possible.

“You what...?”

We tried to make it flawless – so you our dear human beings, could have the ultimate reality experience, despite that the fact that it isn’t, technically, real.

“Uh?”

To say it was anything but a Herculean labour would be an understatement – you see the 3D mind that rose to predominance – the I-mind/what matters, has done everything in its power to render this reality inoperative.

“How so? We’ve just been living as normal people live – trying to make the most of things.”

Yes, so there’s no blame involved, but if you’d been able to pause for one moment and scan the contradictions inherent to your way of being – you’d see that they constantly threatened to puncture, to tear, to shred the fabric of reality which is not, in fact, of limitless strength.

“I can’t for the life of me see what you’re getting at.”

Well, there’s this relationship between Seem and Is.

“Seem and Is – that’s not exactly ringing bells in my cerebral cortex.”

No, but the relationship is real enough. You have what seems to be, and you have what is.”

“And what of it?”

Well, if your Seem is +1, but your Is – is in fact -1, then probably you can see that it’s going to cause problems.

“Well, mathematically speaking yes – if they were completely out of alignment like that – it would certainly cause problems. It could lead to inversion.”

Precisely. It’s like wandering around in the fog. You think you’re heading north, but in fact you’re heading south.

“And?”

Well, if there happens to be a precipice ahead of you then it’s going to be problematic if you continue heading south – thinking you’re heading north.

“And?”

Well, in the past we’ve been able to rectify these problems, either by adjusting your course, or by reprogramming reality to bend or remove the precipice, but now, as you can see, we’ve reached the end of the road, so to speak. Reality – at least your 3D version of it, is coming apart at the seems. There’s nothing more that can be done to extend and pretend. We’ve arrived, with you, at the moment of truth – otherwise quaintly known as the “apocalypse”.

“Do you have to get all biblical like that?”

Sorry, can’t be helped – but I wasn’t using the word in the biblical sense – just in terms of its original meaning...

“Which is?”

Which is the ultimate reality check – when the veil is removed and you get to see where, in fact, you’re standing, what you’re wearing, and whatever else Is reveals.

“So the garment that’s coming apart at the seams, irony of ironies, LOL, is seem itself?”

Precisely.

“And that’s good or bad?”

Excellent question. I guess it all depends where you are on the life-matters curve.

“So it can be good or bad.”

Undoubtedly yes, but ultimately, no, it can only Be – and it’s up to you to decide whether “Be” is itself, in essence, good or bad. Those of you who decide that Be is good – end up in such a reality; those who decide to the contrary, end up in a version of reality that takes them back to first principles.

“Back to which first principles?”

Just back to first principles.

“Which are?”

That life is good, fundamentally. That to be, simply to Be, is more than any thing else can ever give you, yield or seem. Until this lesson is learnt the human being – is at war with himself/ herself – for he/ she has failed to grasp the Isness of Be.

“Oh dear – it looks like I’m on the dark side too – as I’ve certainly failed to grasp whatever that might be.”

“Don’t be so sure – it’s pretty hard to completely overrule nature – to persuade yourself completely that “what matters” is of greater importance that “what is”.

Knock. Knock. Guys, I hate to interrupt your conversation about life, the universe and everything else, but we do have a job to do here.

Oh yes, sorry about that Arketron. We’re in fact complete.

“We are?”

Yes, you’ve done it all for me – please don’t assume I’m being facetious.

“But I haven’t done anything?”

If only you knew.

“Well, I probably would know if you’d stop crypticating and start explaining.”

What is there to explain? Petra and Magellan admitted that we’ve been running a manipulated version of Story – let’s call it Story-lite. It looks like Story, quacks like story, waddles like Story, but doesn’t end like Story.

“Er... why not?”

Because Story itself doesn’t end.

“Oh come on – get real.”

Story proper cannot end because any ending violates the universal indeterminacy of 0=1. How can anything end if nothing truly begins – if all is/not.

“Oh come on... things begin and end all the time.”

Correct. Things do. Story doesn’t. The sleight of hand, the trick was to replace being or beings, with being something or being someone.”

“I don’t see what you’ve got against being someone? We can’t just be abstract entities – we have to be someone – male, female, African, Vietnamese, doctor, engineer...”

True. We can be something, and we can be someone – but ultimately in our Isness we have to simply Be – regardless of who or what.

“And?”

Well, no one really noticed the substitution and everyone started to identify with what they were being – and I-mind/what matters assists in this, as does Story-lite, and the end result is what you see today.

“So you’re saying that if we revert to Story as opposed to Story-lite things will be different?”

Er... y-e-s. Not only “will be different” – but simply “are different”.

“How so?”

Because it’s only in this particular version of story that things have gotten so far out of kilter that the snake is trying to bite its own tail. As soon as we reconnect with Story proper, we find ourselves back in the Isness of Be – the main branch of the magical, free flowing, abundant, life giving, never ending quantum stream – and there we are all that we are – and have never been less, despite what Seems to be, and what we fear to be, and what-have-you-not.

“So there’s really nothing to do – no world to save, no mission impossible?”

No, there’s only the boundless delight, the magic of reconnecting with Faery – and coming back through Story into the Isness of Be.

“And what about Dorothy?”

What about her?

“Why were they so afraid of her?”

Who, Petra and Magellan? They too have been playing their parts... just as all of you have – really no differently. Returning to the goddess, to the Mother, to the living stream, to the essence seems like something drastic and direful when you’re caught up in the drama of “what not”.

“Er – you’ve just thrown another terminus incognitus at me.”

You too – what’s with the Latin, hominis?

“No idea – it just slipped out.”

No worries, so the drama of “what not” is the drama of what is not, as opposed to what is. We’ve been so well programmed that we truly believe the drama, and that’s what has ultimately saved us...

“It has? Saved us from what?”

I can’t say.

“Whyever not?”

Because it’s a dot dot dot thing.

“A what?”

A dot dot dot thing. That’s what Petra and Magellan were talking about. Dot₃ is that which simply cannot be verbalised without crashing finity. So, instead of trying to verbalise it, all we need do is tune in – and Dorothy is the fair mistress of the quantum stream, who is happy to assist us if and when we’re ready to revert to Is, to tune in and discover whatever it is that we’ve been working so assiduously to avoid all these years.

“And that’s it?”

Kind of...

“But I don’t get it...”

What don’t you get?

Why we’ve been working so hard to avoid something. Why we choose to enter into this Story-lite and create a kind of anti reality – a reality of anti matter. Why everything has to be so absurdly, mindblowingly complicated...

“No, isn’t that the point. The Mind of your mind designs it that way – so instead of trying to take on this my Mind, wouldn’t it make more sense to say “Ok – I’m ready to know – let’s go.”

“Ok – why not? I’m ready to know. Let’s go!”

Sitting with Master Wu by the lotus lake we observe with complete detachment. Doing so we become aware that everything has a shadow, but the shadow is not of the thing itself, but a notness that creeps up to and hides behind the thing in order to avoid the brilliant light of sun. 

"So technically speaking this isn't my shadow at all..." I mind message Master Wu, and he beams back beatifically. So the moment I come into awareness-acceptance I allow myself to equalise with shadow and watch as the entirety of reality becomes a pulsating energy field.

"Ah..." I think aloud, and feel the presence alongside of someone dear to me beyond words – someone I neither knew existed, nor suspected was present a moment before – who is seated where Master Wu had been. 

"I know you..." I whisper telepathically. 

Her reply comes not from any one point, for she is the balance of all that is beyond my self – and I feel the all that is speaking directly as if she is but its resonating chamber.

"I should hope so," her sweet words interweave time and space and redefine the very fabric of reality, for all is but water rippling against her curving shoreline, which stretches into the distance where sky meets earth, where sea meets land... and wave upon wave runs down and along her length and I am One and she is Nought... "Nerys," I smile and feel the sun breaking from a cloud and filling the sky – the Earth with light. 

Chapter 19 – in which Josh fixes a broken vase and much more

A crackling fire and the smell of – not incense – dried leaves that have been cast into the flames... more than a smell – it reaches into the mists of time, it reaches into the depths of consciousness and recalls me, bit by bit, strand by strand, back to body, into mind...

“Who am I?” I ask no one in particular.

I hear some light, merry chuckling nearby. There’s nothing unnatural about this laughter – it’s as if I’ve always known it, always taken it for granted, as if it’s as much a part of me as my body is – which is why I’ve never really noticed it before...

The smell of burning leaves continues to weave itself through my mind, or what would be my mind were it not full of emptiness at this moment... and perceptibly the smell changes as different leaves are added, touching a different branch of my conscious-awareness, stroking, massaging me back to self, back to me.

A woman’s voice singing. I hear it not with indifference but again, with knowing that this voice is as much a part of me as anything else might be, and so not the least urge there is to question it – just to accept and enjoy its healing sounds. And at this moment it’s the voice of an old woman, rasping, hoarse, chalk and pumice stone, and the sun comes from behind a cloud in my mind, and the wind blows across the wide open steppe, a squall and we retreat to the yurt to shelter from the elements, drinking warm kumis, fermented mare’s milk, then back into the great open, riding our small powerful horses to the summer pasture in the highlands...

Her voice changes – now it’s a young woman – sweet, plaintive, seductive... and the visions shift to another branch of the winding stream... a young girl walking in the forest, looking for her brother, soldiers nearby, houses set on fire, screams and then silence as the hammer falls; a lover’s hand reaching into the darkness, caressing her brow, wiping away tears, dancing in the firelight, dancing to the sound of drum and flute and mandolin... sounds and sensations filling the night with emotions, filling the night with longings and yearnings, the fragrant jasmine, an onion dome in the moonlight, a minaret, snatches of visions and shards, fragments of the shattered vase.

Still she sings, now the voice of a young girl, bubbling like the mountain stream, telling of fairies, of angels, of woodland elves and pixies, magic lands behind the mountain’s facade, another land within the lake, another in the sky when the sun shines on the clouds that mass around Mount Abora, dancing nymphs, tree spirits, all of nature alive with the elements of fire, water, earth and air, the stars in the firmament dancing in tune to the song of life itself – the same song that brings me into this world, that still can be heard when I tune my ear and feel my deepest nature... and insects, and wild beasts prowling in the shadows, closing for the kill, the trees and plants with their spiralling ways into other realms, into lands where they, like the stones, are fleet of foot or flyte of wing, the wonder of the child’s delight at seeing and sensing the least that is most, the magic in a grain of sand, in a breath, in the bead of dew on a blade of grass in the early morning light – a rainbow fairy light suspended in green the grassy night, and endless dreams that weave their way throughout, that teach me how to see and feel the allness unfolding within appearing without.

“Dorothy” – I hear myself say, calling her by name, or one of the names she goes by, “tell me how I come to be here with you this day... tell me who I happen to be on this occasion.”

More faery laughter, both fragile as frosted glass yet powerful too, with sinews of oak and hide of wilderbeast... “and where would you happen to be my young friend?” she answers with a question of her own, and strange to tell, I notice where the mind would normally be, where now there is only lightness and fragrance, rustling leaves and clouds scudding across the sky overhead, a stream of images, shapes and forms tell me everything I would know, instead of mind the inner vision – a seeing and a knowing without the need to think and process “what” or “not”...

“Ah!” I hear myself exclaim, part delight, part surprise – the astonishing tale of how I happen to be here at this moment with Dorothy, whether faery queen, child, or hag, mistress of the quantum stream, keeper of the keys of consciousness, sweeper, maid of honour, housekeeper and cook extraordinaire, she has always been there with us in Story holding the other side of the dialogue, making it seem Real which is not.

And effortlessly everything falls into place – Story reconnects and immediately, without pain or fear I know exactly who I am and why I’m here... I see the entire thread from beginning to end, and how these threads can be connected to and exchanged for others, now that I’m no longer bound by fear, now that I’ve come home to Faery. Like changing an outfit, I may pick and choose – and there are threads that bring me anywhere I may desire to be for they span the entirety of creation like a great spider’s web with criss-crossing strands. I may choose my entry point and dive into Story, whichever version, and spin it with delight, with abandonment, spin it for all I’m worth, now that I’m unfettered by fear – for truly nothing is created or destroyed, each version of story attains its rightful end in the allotted time. As I write one strand of story code, all the others adjust in accordingly. As long as I am guided by beauty, inspired to create whatever is alive, the whole of creation shines and vibrates with the song of all being well. Only when I get bogged down in fact of the matter, in fearing the worst, in routine and what matters as opposed to what is, does the story sag and the entire web sinks down into the darkness of nothingness. As I gaze into the web, deeper into the threads I can see every greater detail – the beings down there in story battling for survival against all odds, desperately hanging on, trying to save the day, convinced that their life depends upon it, little suspecting that they and I are One, little suspecting that we are all co-creating the magical isness of Be – the faery tale. Caught in the action, the characters I be all assume that it’s for real, that they’re alone, and unconnected to everyone else.

I pick up the web, with Dorothy’s blessing, and carry it over to a nice shady spot by the stream. Something tells me that here it will be easier for us to rebuild our world, reconnect with our dreams, and I watch as the web adjusts to its new spot making itself fast to the branches and stems I hold it near. Where there is pain – I feel it emanating like a knife from parts of the web, there I fly down with a legion of faery folk... down... down till we find ourselves among the action of a world on fire, a battlefield. We do not enter the fray as humans – what would be the point – we cannot pretend it is more real than it is – but as magic spirits we set about emergency repairs, helping the beleaguered souls to feel a something else, a something more, that their eyes and numbed minds cannot reveal to them, helping them to sense that the tale they are in can change with a change of heart, no matter how dark or desperate things may seem. The whole tale can spread its wings and fly back into the magic of Faery.

“Gnomiki, gnomiki” I call, as we leave the battlefield behind. “Let us open a window, let us share a vision with the people of this world...” and what do we see unfold? There was a place of such darkness, of such fear and doubt that no one could leave it who had entered therein. It was like a dark star, a black hole, and throughout the ages souls had been lost into it. It was even visible here in Faery, even as Dorothy walks among the trees and flowers, along the stream, she senses the darkness and wonders what will happen – for there is no way it can be stopped.

“No way?” you hear yourself say to her: “I know a way. I shall descend into Story but a new kind of story – one that is completely cut off from Faery, one that is completely wrapped up in its own logic, that sees only things as real if they are things, if they can be measured empirically, that rejects the very isness of be, the Conscious Mind that we take for granted...”

But why would you do that Daniel? What can you hope to achieve?

“Don’t you see Dorothy? In isolation from all that is it will be possible for us to tunnel down to the dark heart of matter, for there what matters will seem to be real. We will experience things that you can’t even imagine here in Faery: pain, death, horrors, but also love and joy too. Endless bitter sweet, and eventually we will arrive at the bottom, a place so far removed from Faery that none accept or believe in it. That is the place where our friends are trapped, are ensnared. That is the place that can only be reached by heading into the Seem of is.”

But how will you manage this? No one can do this?

“We will be none the wiser. We will agree to enter a closed loop of Story – me and any other volunteers who choose, and this closed loop can only be entered if we agree to I-mind/what matters protocols. Little by little, generation by generation we will be more and more bound up in matter and a mind that makes it more and more real by identifying with all that seems and nothing else.”

But how will it end? How will you escape?

“There would be no escape if it were truly real. It would lead forever into nothingness, but that is not possible, as you know. Nothing cannot be reached or attained unless it is something – end of story, and so we need a something that is the equal and opposite of the shadow you have seen and felt here in Faery. This is easy enough to create, using the limitless power of Story. And thus, we set Story to meet the shadow by creating a tale that reverse engineers itself into nothing, but which in fact ends at the precise moment when it enters the shadow as 0=1. We will do this with time, for the closed loop being an artificial construct will need the spin of time to hold it together.”

And Story can do this? It can tunnel down to the shadow and bring it back into the narrative, bring it back to the light.

“You know it can Dorothy. Caught in the closed loop, we will find ourselves sinking ever deeper into a world of darkness and shadow, with no idea why or how this is happening. We will assume it’s our fault: that we are doing something wrong, that we are evil or sinful, when in fact, we are being taken there by Story, which like spaceship is delivering us into the otherwise inaccessible shadow.”

And what makes it accessible if you say it’s inaccessible?

“Because we’ll be unconscious of it – and being unconscious means we’ll be able to penetrate shadow’s defences. Only when we’re completely within will our pre-programmed story unravel as time will run out of spin, delivering us like an injection directly into shadow as 0=1, and there you have your alpha omega moment – Story will ensure that the two fuse for otherwise you would have a less than 0 or a more than 1. All things being equal, the shadow will guide us right to its very source in the same way we shall guide it in reverse back to its source...”

You mean back to Creation.

“Exactly... back to 0=1.”

And what will happen to all those beings in the terrible closed story loop?

“Well, apart from being in Hell – a hell they volunteer to join, they’ll experience that which otherwise could not be experienced by the Universal Mind...”

Which is?

“They’ll experience separation from you and from all this. They’ll experience a state of being that is, in fact, wholly without foundation, and yet which seems completely real.”

The seem of is... so that’s how it is done. I heard tell of it once, many years ago. And there is no other way for us to combat the shadow and return the lost souls?

“No Dorothy – only Story can take us into that which is not...”

But will it not hurt these beings, these volunteers?

“Of course it will, but they will always know at their zero point – in their heart, that it is not what it seems, that they are not, in fact, victims of some terrible conspiracy, that their closed loop reality is in fact a powerful engine that they can harness directly, and knowing this changes everything.”

How so?

“Knowing their world is unreal deep in their heart, this will enable them to open another branch of Story – those who will – for Story cannot be limited, and thus they too will be able to create worlds within their world, narratives within their narrative, and doing so, will be able to transform, transmute the shadow, the darkness they are heading into, and this will be the sweetest sensation, the greatest joy, their true delight.”

You mean it won’t have to be suffering and pain?

“No, it will depend on their choice. The I-mind/what matters protocols will ensure it is hell, and necessarily so, unless they are able and willing to connect with the deeper truth – the Isness of be – and doing so, they’ll discover the power of Story waiting within. Even as their spaceship humanity hurtles into the blackhole, the abyss of what not, they’ll discover the wings of Faery that can lift them into another dimension, that will enable them to use the shadow as the very source, the very fuel for their creativity. And thus they will rebirth themselves and rebirth Faery from the darkness of complete ignorance and fear, into the light of knowingness and Be.”

And you think they can do this Metatron?

“Of course they can – for thus it is – whatever can be conceived is guaranteed to become real somewhere, somehow in Story.”

From Metatron back to Daniel, then back to Josh... talking with Dorothy, here beside the quantum stream, watching its million threads winding and twisting, entangling yet never truly so. The shattered vase of my mind is all but reformed as story’s thread once again comes together...

“How will I spin gold from the straw of things that do not yet seem to fit together or make sense – a patchwork quilt of semi-digested happenings?” I think aloud...

“The question contains the answer...” – I continue, and Dorothy smiles at me with liquid love, warm sunlight filling my heart, my mind, me.

I will take you back into the world I have left behind, dearest Dorothea. Dot dot dot, I will be your champion, your knight in arms, and I will weave a story, the story that I have dreamt of weaving – the only possible story that can recombine, reconnect, make sense of all the broken threads, the pain, the dislocation, the darkness we have experienced. I shall spin it with my doings, thinkings and sayings, with the breath I breathe, and conscious-awareness. I shall weave that thread into a garment, the bridal gown that I shall present you with when all is said and done, when tale is told and Story complete – and you will become the maid Nerys, and my beloved wife.

Suddenly Dorothy looks bashful and shy. She shifts into her role with perfect ease and grace. “Go then,” she says, “back to the world. Rejoin the narrative. I will head back into formlessness of the void, and if you succeed in your quest I shall emerge as Nerys, your very own wife – with a soul in perfect harmony with yours. Thus we shall complete the circle and weave a golden web of sense and meaning from the soul defying emptiness of what is not.”

“Your name – Josh – I feel your name has changed, so let it now be Josh the Jubilant to mark your reawakening. Go forth merrily, in joy, and seek my love in anything and everything you may encounter along the way – for that is the only place you will find it, the only way you will be able to complete your quest; feel my presence and spin the Story thread that reunites us with all that is. This world is yours – use it wisely and enjoy its many marvels and wonders, for only by taking the path of joy will you discover that Nerys is seated here beside you, gazing deeply, lovingly into your eyes.”

The next thing he knows, Josh the Jubilant is watching a trolleybus on the garden ring where Georgiy Menshikov is deep in thought as 1,300 years pass by – precisely the time required to connect Josh with the precise version of reality he has newly chosen for himself, in which he is destined to find love anywhere and everywhere in a world full of wonders and marvels, in which dot₃ the feminine disconnect of quantum indeterminacy works the miracle of Story, extracting life and love from the vacuum, giving Josh, and every one of us, exactly what we need, when we need it – for how else could Story be told and sense be made of all that is I am?

In which I discover the God particle in the palm of my hand

The "Why I can fly" movement makes it onto the front page of news and social media across the globe. Recent articles in the New York Times, Huffington Post, Rolling Stone magazine, The UK's Guardian, the Economist and Nature to name but a few have been looking at the phenomenon with the usual mix of fear, trepidation, confusion, perplexity and increasingly unconvincing irony. As always the mass media is behind the curve, desperately harking back to a bygone era of Newtonian physics, of central government, top down economics controlled by a few major corporations, of big science that never seems to give us the God particle it's always promising to deliver – presumably because it's not theirs to give, probably because we already have it in the palm of our hands, if we're only willing to take the trouble to have a look.

"Oh my God – I can see it. It's really there. Oh my God! It's so awesome. Oh my God!"

Well there you go – speak of the devil – Gemma Poltruth has just "discovered" it – the God particle, more or less simultaneously with a hundred and sixteen other individuals across the globe, and you know what that means... it's only a matter of time before it spreads – before everyone groks – you get it. It's 100 monkey redux – and once a critical mass have seen the new "truth" – it spreads like a virus directly through the back passage.

"The what?"

Oh come on Styopa – the back passage of the collective consciousness.

"Oh, gotya – carry on Wanda, I wanna hear more of this..."

So critical mass is anything between 116 and 116 000 depending on what it's affecting. The God particle is affecting everything and everyone but it's almost completely irrelevant how many need to "get it" before the transfer to collective consciousness happens – coz nothing's gonna stop this Faery juggernaut. 

"You're killing me Wanda – Faery juggernaut! Love it! LOL."

Gemma Poltruth stares into the palm of her hand, and for the first time in her life realises that the seed of all creation, of the entire universe was always nestled there in a dimensional recess – a small concave that conceals it from 3D eyes, but only as long as they're running under I-mind/what matters' "wilfully blind" protocol – in which we fail to see whatever might endanger or undermine the seem of is – the precious beyond belief illusion that this reality matters objectively.

She sees it like a star in a jar, if you've ever observed the science experiment. Go online and check it out if you haven't. Quite literally, there in the palm of her hand is a star – pulsating, flashing, both intensely dark and intensely bright – for it is as much black hole as it is star, and it just happens to contain within it the entire mass of the universe.

"So let me get this straight – you're saying this unknown woman Gemma Poltruth is able to hold the entire mass of the universe within the palm of her hand. Which hand, by the way?"

What does it matter which hand... just observe for a moment how she intuitively, quickly starts interacting with the God particle – feeling it's presence within her – within all things – for it is within every atom anywhere you might care to look, and it can at any moment extricate itself from one or all of them, thereby collapsing them into their indeterminacy – into their corresponding wave function. "Tee hee" – she giggles to herself – "it's all fractal – it has no mass – tis no matter – I'm free!" and yes, she is indeed completely free. For all her life Gemma Poltruth has felt a kind of obligation to uphold reality. It was never clearly articulated – but here at the back of her mind was this feeling that everything could, perhaps would collapse in on itself if she doesn't give of herself – if she doesn't uphold it with her consciousness – and so, like so many people, she was constantly paying an unseen tax – a tithe to hell – funding the very object material reality that was exploiting her and treating her so atrociously – little suspecting that it was only her consent that continued this state of affairs indefinitely. As soon as she has her Gandhi moment and withdraws her passive consent – without even having to go to prison, the whole of reality shifts imperceptibly, imperceptibly, perceptibly – whoa – easy does it – gently – gently – oh yes – oh wow – it's completely rearranging itself at the atomic level into the "no such thing as a free lunch" configuration.

"The what do you call it?"

The "no such thing as a free lunch" configuration. Everything has to be paid for energetically. It was only possible to create hell on Earth if I the people was, albeit unwittingly, willing to fund the programme. Where else would the vast energy requirements have found the financing for the "life is hell" platform.

"But what do you mean?"

Don't you see? The "life is hell" platform is infinitely costly because it requires almost the complete rewrite and distortion of that which is. It involves turning nature on its head and pretending it's real, and involving the whole of humanity in a grand conspiracy which is less conspiracy, more collusion, in which we create a synthetic reality, in which we seem to be what we are not – powerless slaves within a predatory, inhuman system... This has been our grand collective design, and it's been a hugely successful project – so successful we've almost destroyed the very reality we've been playing in.

"Well, I don't see how you can call that successful. It's a terrible shame what's been happening here on earth – the suffering, the degradation, the pain..."

Don't you just love it?

"Don't. Shame on you. Shame!"

So there you are – the 3D mind plays the victim role to perfection and adds fuel to Phlegethon's fire, but no sooner have you located the God particle – which you can call Hicks Boson if you're into silly names, or anything else you like – just as long as you set eyes on it and start playing around. That's when the walls come crashing down.

"But I'm not sure I like the idea of walls crashing down."

No, me neither, but what about the Berlin Wall? I'm sure most of us agree that was a wall that needed to come down, and we most of us rejoiced as it was pulled down, often by the bare hands of Berliners. Well, we've reached our own personal Berlin Wall moment. The collective consciousness is now in the process of massing on either side, and the first stones are already being removed by the 116 who made history by finding the same God particle that the scientific community has been searching for, over hill and under dale, at vast expense – which reminds me – "energetic exchange".

 "I beg your pardon. Where did that one come from?"

 Well, where do you think all the money in the world comes from in the first place?

 "Er... from the gold that badly paid workers dug up?"

Nope.

"From the money created out of thin air by bankers?"

Nope – they were only able to get away with it because we are continually funding them within the "tithe to hell" framework agreement.

"So from us you mean?"

Yep. All the money in the world came from our downpayment when we agreed to finance this version of reality. It was our freewill choice to do so. We made our payments and thus the laws of energy exchange were temporarily circumvented – people were allowed to do stuff to other people without seeming to have to pay as it's all just theatre – and that made it possible for us to experience the kind of energetics that gave the rest of Creation the ultimate show – I mean – they were completely addicted to what's been going on here – because we've been running the kind of frequencies, generating the kind of Story code that was possible no where else – which explains why it's been, at times, what can only be described as bloody painful.

"So why did we do it? Are we just suckers for punishment – or martyrs or what?"

We did it for ourself, and also for our parents – whom we love more than anything else – though we mostly blank out and forget who they are while we're here in 3D.

"Ok – run that by again please. "For ourselves?!" Why would we suffer for ourselves?"

Well obviously because we're more than we realise – and the rest of ourself is addicted to this reality show, loving every minute of it and learning the kind of lessons that would otherwise be completely unattainable. But it's enough. We've taken it far enough. It's time to recoalesce, to reunify.

"Ok – I can handle that – so we're sitting in the auditorium enjoying this tragi-comedy, and not just sticking needles into one another on stage."

Yes, and because we share consciousness with all that we be – it means the pain can at any moment be switched off completely. Deep inside we've always known that.

"To be honest I have my doubts. If we were able to switch off the pain or simply withdraw our consent and exiting the stage – I suspect we'd have done so more often."

You'd have thought so – but ever been reading a really good book, or watching an amazing film and you're bursting to go for a pee – and you can't tear yourself away, and you're holding out for hours until finally you relent... It's kind of like that.

"I'm sceptical, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, mainly because I want to hear more about the parents you referred to."

Of course you do – but you have to realise that you know just the same as me what I'm talking about. You happen to be the product of the divine feminine and the divine masculine – of Goddess energy and God – of the Isness and the Creator – names and words – names and words – tune in to your own knowledge – you cannot download this from me.

"Well, I've never felt particularly comfortable with all this talk about the Goddess, or God for that matter."

Nope – why would you feel comfortable, when everything you're doing and being here in 3D is antagonistic to, or in denial of them. It's bound to feel strange. It's bound to trip some switches and ring some alarm bells in your conscious-awareness. That goes without saying, but be that as it may, you are, without being aware of it... deeply, at a level of consciousness far removed from the hurly burly of daily affairs, deeply devoted to them, and paradoxically, serving them even in your denial and abnegation.

"Well, I don't see how, even if it were true."

No, but the moment you set eyes on the God particle these things start making perfect sense. At that moment you come into realignment with Creation and Creator, and thus through Creation with the Uncreated, the formless, the Mother of All that is, the quantum Vacuum if you like.

"But isn't that just emptiness?"

Oh no, the vacuum is defined as "a space devoid of matter" but that's not really saying much if matter only exists in space and time. So it's a kind of emptiness, but to have an empty space you need to have conscious-awareness, so 0=1 if we balance the equation we find that the vacuum is, in a sense, pure consciousness, where all of matter is completely dissolved in the isness of simply being – until the consciousness becomes self-aware, trips over itself and tumbles back into material reality.

"Oh..."

Yes, it's a mind bender – I apologise, but moving swiftly on..."

"No, but how does it happen – how does consciousness trip over itself and tumble back into materiality?"

...Jack and Gill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, Jack fell down and broke his crown and Gill came tumbling after.

"The nursery rhyme."

As so often is the case, the mysteries of the quantum stream are usually hidden in the least likely places. Why after all, would they go up a hill to fetch a pail of water? and what was the water they were really fetching, and why did Jack fall and break his crown, and...

"and why did Gill come tumbling after?... Yes, it is intriguing. We need to think about it."

No we don't. We need to do nothing of the sort. You were asking me about your parents and suddenly I-mind/what matters waylaid you.

"True... but it is so interesting trying to puzzle out how the universe came into being..."

Hum... Instead of answering Styopa's question Wanda makes a few deep breaths followed by a series of shorter ones – and the next thing Styopa's aware of – through a kind of break in the transmission – a step transition – is Wanda sitting at around head height looking every part the Indian yogi, before the culture shock causes him to lose consciousness.

Part II

National security concerns... we can't just let the people collapse reality around us... 

unthinkable consequences... need to regulate...

The “powers that were” are having difficulty adjusting to the paradigm shift. "Why I can fly" meetup groups have sprung up all over the planet with startling speed, catching the authorities off guard. By the time they're ready to react – to try to clamp down, contain, control... it's too late. Whenever they come to a meetup venue they fail to find the participants. Some mysterious force seems to clear the hall of all the members who were there a moment before. "Still, we have their names – we'll get them to register, then we'll declare "Why I can fly" a subversive organisation – we'll say they’re working with manipulative ETs – that they've been given these abilities in exchange for selling the rest of us into slavery... that kind of thing."

But the meetup movement is spreading exponentially and Mikhail Gorbachev is powerless to save the Berlin wall, even if he'd wanted to – and he's less and less sure he does. 

In fact the "Why I can fly" movement has less to do with flying itself, more to do with confronting the frantic fear factor behind all self-imposed limitations. After all, whoever needed to fly? A bit of floaty stuff might be nice, a bit of intergalactic space travel would be fun – broadening one's horizons – visiting other civilizations – but one soon tires of travel and – home sweet home – that is where the magic lies. But what is home, and who am I?

Now you see – these are the questions that take us deeper within, beyond the superficial PR and slick marketing of g-nome portal's "Why I can fly" campaign. 

Already we have the God particle thanks to Gemma Poltruth and her 116 fractal twins, which means we're no longer bound by what matters, or by matter itself, for that matter. We have access to the programme code of creation – for we can use the God particle to reshape reality, just as long as we're acting in accordance with Is, as opposed to "what not”. Atoms rearrange themselves automatically - we can grow a new house in a matter of hours, a few days tops, without needing to hammer or saw. We're so busy interacting with Story, the ever-unfolding song of creation, that we have no time to wonder what's coming next. The present moment always furnishes whatever is required as long as we stay in the quantum stream of Story manifesting.

Part III

We're too attached to resolutions, to outcomes. When all is said and done there is no Reality as such, no matter, no thing in particular ENB [either-neither-both]. There is that which is – for what it's worth, an infinity of Is – a playground for you to fly and fall, to dance and delapidate, to stroll and stumble – howsoever you should choose. 

In the meantime, Story requests that I return to thread – to the perceived war between the Government, the powers that were and the people. 

Forget it – it was always game-over just as soon as we chose to withdraw our consent. No sooner had we done so at a quantum level than value had to be exchanged instantaneously. Instead of "being able to get away with it" – violating rights and oppressing, the "violators" or "oppressors", who were in fact just players in the drama, have to exchange value to balance the isness immediately, and 0=1 they find themselves preferring to do anything rather than continue violating or oppressing. Having bits of your eternal essence being transferred to your victim's cosmic bank account rather takes the fun out of being "evil" – wouldn't you agree. So, in a matter of days we are back on the level playing field of Is – the isness of Be. And what this means, and what it entails – there's no saying – only the pudding's proof – so instead of feeling guilty about withdrawing your consent from project "dark and dastardly offering a glimmer of hope and pretending things might miraculously sort themselves out at the 11^th hour and 59^th minute when in fact it's designed to fail"; instead of believing you have to be the victim, or else reality will die, God forbid, or collapse into a pile of steaming doo doo, know that consciousness trumps matter in the game of life. The matrix may collapse, the whole of matter may revert back to its indeterminate wave function, but that does not alter the fact of...

"Of what? Don't just leave me suspended like that?"

Whyever not?

"Because I need to know what's going to happen. I need to know what to do. I need to know..."

Story knows. 

"No it doesn't. Story's something fictitious. Something we simply write to pass the time, for our amusement."

So it seems, so it seems. But without Story we're nothing... Without stoy 0=1 cancels out and you...

"I what?"

Don't you see?

"Not if you keep hanging up like that, cutting out, dot dot dotting."

But that's precisely it – when I go beyond Story – nothing Is. Terra incognito. The unknowable."

"So you mean there's a place where even Story can't go? And I thought Story was everything to you."

No, Story is no more "everything" than "God" or anything else for that matter, but it's the master weaver that, like Rumpelstiltskin can spin golden thread from straw, and that, is more than enough for our purposes. Dot dot dot...

"And you propose we can fly in Story?"

That only Story with wings unclipped can give us the kind of reality, the kind of life experience where we can enjoy the beauty, the magic of flight – of rising above our fear and limitations – whatever they might have been – once we're ready to trust it – to dance to its syncopated rhythm, to dive into its quantum stream of pure unadulterated consciousness with a capital C.

Styopa looks intently into the palm of his hand – and something comes alight – a star is born in the firmament of his Mind... atoms near and far stir, tingling with expectation, sensing their long awaited master has returned.

"So be it Wanda. I consent."