Though the evidence is all around, and though the "engines" of the Beast throb and shudder everlastingly, the truth goes undetected by the hylic "Everymen" whose rapid arrival to, and departure from, the theatre of time and space prevents clear insight into the workings of the well-oiled machinery which operates behind the "Wheel of Samsara" (existence). Moreover, these erstwhile actors, caught in their mundane roles, perform better when they believe that they think with the mind, not for it. They offer their services in exchange for access to, and receipt of, the many endowments and powers that intoxicate their waking and sleeping dreams. Through its colossal adventure, the collective mind rewards those who serve its purpose, demoting, and conspiring against those who do not, or will not. It has fashioned both heavens and hells for this express purpose. The "Puppet-Master" covets those individual minds who can assist it in its super-secret agenda, its devouring of experience and framing of the world into its own monstrous likeness. The pawns who are recruited to assist in this conquest rarely comprehend what lies behind their personal ardors, their mistakes and discoveries, their rise and fall, or suspect that they are participants in a timeless transaction, mere bubbling test-tubes in a vast unholy laboratory, their personal value lying solely in their designated functions, and not in their selfhood. In the laboratory of the Beast, and in the social hive, we have our assigned duties to carry out, duties which are performed better when we believe ourselves to be operating under our own volition. Our periodic failures, during the vast experiment, are due to our supposed nemesis ignorance, while our periodic successes are, in total, our ticket to supposed salvation and enlightenment. This is the life-act which enslaves ephemerals and eternals, angels and devils all.

The Escher- or Dali-Fools, who have looked behind the god-game, and who presume to speak or teach the truth do so at their own peril. Far from being rewarded or exalted, they are vilified, and branded "Renegade." Every attempt is made to silence their audacious voices, and confound their antinomian philosophy. They are the cracked test-tubes, or corrupted data files, to be trashed and deleted. The Beast attributes little actual value to the problematic individual, only to the species. It may experience the occasional "failure" on the ontological (individual) front, but the plaque of its phylogenetic (collective, historical) success is proudly posed above its penthouse desk, so to speak. Unhindered by the brave resistance and resignation of foolish iconoclasts, the mighty wheels of the demiurge relentlessly grind on. Slowly, through its particular form of osmosis, the worm-like mind ingests the stuff of reality, reducing it to processed dust in its "dark satanic mills." All the long while, during its Sisyphean Labor, the ego-tyrant fails to realize that the phenomena which it imagines as "external" and antithetical to itself is really an apparition, or epiphenomena, of its own convoluted processes and that, in its efforts to dominate matter, it has succeeded only in further enslaving itself. Its window to the world turns out to be a mirror. In Blake's terminology, Urizen's chains are his necklaces.



The world, and its apparent content, is an image within our own minds that we condition ourselves to believe is an external reality. The principle incarnate architects and exponents of this lie enjoy titles like "philosopher," or "scientist," but they neither love wisdom, nor see further than their own perplexity, their own "Newtonian Sleep." The Fool is one who awakens to this paradox. He is awakened after hearing the ambient pulse and whirl made by the giant machinery of the omnipresent mind-game, the all-pervading, relentless and terrible rhythm unheard by those intentionally deafened by the clamor of thoughts, words, ideals and deeds. Upon his awakening, the Sage-Fool arrives at the peripheral wall which stands between the real and the unreal. He sits down in its shadow and remains silent, listening to it. There he puts an end to his struggle, his desires to own, command, understand or prize that which is unreal. The unreal, by being unreal, eludes ownership. It cannot be possessed, known, held or even destroyed. Only the mind which conjures the unreal, and desires it, can be silenced. The ego which adamantly and feverishly attempts, incarnation after incarnation, to find the world, and not its own countenance, framed in its ancient mental mirror, must eventually smash the glass, and end its vain quest, in order to really experience the nameless and everlasting Tao.

No, because you've given up that you can ever change that part of yourself - you don't even acknowledge that it's part of yourself anyway. Well you put it off to "the brain" but it is the particular brain that happens to be generating you and your experiences.

Anyway. If it's a trained set of neural nets that you developed from early childhood, then you can train them differently. Deep seated hatred of society doesn't do anyone good. I would suggest that for your sake and for everyone else's sake you do something about it. Or you can not care and get to your inner peace. It is up to you of course.

Hehe. Indeed.

No doubt. Dan Ingram, for example, is always super cheery whenever I talk to him.


Yea, I've noticed that as well. This is what was happening with me. In my case the pragmatic dharma package was just making things worse for me. It was actually counter-productive to working on these issues. Part of the reason I talk about these things is because the commonly accepted notion in pragmatic dharma is that once you're in it, you're screwed, there's no way out but going through it even if your life might start to really suck in the meantime. It turns out it is possible to just back out of the whole thing!


We'll see what happens. I certainly wish him well!

This is exactly what I mean by people not really knowing what it is like to have such a deeply ingrained problem. They don't see it for the permanence that it has played in some people's lives. Those types of people, the ones who seem to have it all together who probably really don't as much as they tend to try and make people think, only see stress as the superficial, impermanent part and peace as the deeper, central solid foundation of who they are. Also, identity is really just a mental program. There is no proof of there being a central entity in any being for that matter.

As for stopping meditation, the only thing that seems to have helped even a little bit in my life, and get some serious "psychological" help, that sort of help has only made things worse in my life. Psychiatry really is close to blood-letting with leaches and really only succeeds in programming a person to rely on the very same social institutions that cause much of the stress in the first place. I recall several pharmaceuticals that were tried on me, all of which produced some very seriously damaging side-effects. One even caused Parkinson's disease, but did absolutely nothing for my psychological condition.

Society actually deserves to be hated. That is for sure, but I do not have to identify with that hate, or anything else anymore. That is a good thing. Before meditation, I was a big egotistical asshole, but I did not recognize what I do now. Believe me it is better to know and know how to detach from it than to be wrapped up in it and actually being that hateful piece of crap.