iwishihad comment on mine enemy, fortunate son

The First Son of the Father, now some 3000 years after the commencement of the consciousness of the little, "I", sat in the once British Colony across the Atlantic, within the Chamber of Ovality and pondered. The war with the the tribe descended from the Mesopotamian bicameral land where man first started was not going well. Many little, "I"'s had been at work in the evolution since freedom from the bicameral, right-lobe "Magister" had occurred. He wished his Father hadn't provided many of the weapons the "Enemy" now had. Even more so, he wished that in the previous war with the "Enemy" his Father had destroyed them when the chance occurred. He was a "Chri$tian" and his right-lobe replacement "God" the same as most of the Western hemisphere of this biosphere. He had no 'real' knowledge of the "Gods" of the Enemy. He could not understand why he, and his village were hated so much in many of the lands where he and his predecessors had given much $ to. He just took advice from the many little, "I"'s giving it, without questioning the possible deceit and greed therein little, "I", consciousness had bred.

He reached into his pocket and found the small envelope. Puzzled, his logical left-lobe reconstructed, within his time-spacial mindspace, how it had got there: that anti-war protestor had broken through security and manhandled him -- yes, -- the 'picture' construct obvious as his little conscious mindspace reconstructed the happening -- it saw the envelope being pushed into his pocket as the security guards leapt on the 'attacker.'

He carefully opened the small envelope. He had experience of white powder, not this. A small amount of reddish powder. He carefully laid the envelope on the desk and reached for the 'phone to call security. Involutarily he sneezed and the air was filled with the banned hallucinogenic ayahuasca dust. Having exhausted internal air the body autonomously replenishes it. As the air travelled up his nostrils some of the dust did also and entered the mucous membranes. He felt somewhat different from when the white powder had been there in the past.

It is said that we only experience the effects of DMT (Dimethyl Tryptamine) at birth and at death. The result of an 'in-between' experience is medically undocumented.

The room he saw took on an ontological perspective, a fanciful dreamscape, full of frightening and overwhelming forces. His perception completeley shifted and the identity of his little, "I" became unreal. He heard and saw many of the past happenings within that Room of Ovality in a fraction of the time they actually occurred. A large hallucination appeared before him, totally encircling, trapping him and he knew he had to touch each rectangle so before him, so labelled, before he would be free from the encirclement:

Touch ME

As the First Son of the Father, slowly, with each touch, removed that encircling him, understanding slowly came where the errors had been in the past. There would be no instant solution but a knowing what to do became dimly apparent as his little, "I", abruptly returned to baseline.

The final thought slowly descended deep but the term, "taqia" meant nothing to this Western little, "I", as yet. The West had been, unknowingly, practicing it since the demise of the Bicameral state had released the attributes of being "conscious".

Corollary:

In 'Taqia", "The little, "I", not only may conceal, it must do so. In a region ruled by enemies it must speak and act as though it were of their number in order not to draw down peril and persecution on it's perceived comrades. What a school of ambiguity and dissimulation is created by this training, which is an essential rule of the little, "I". But the lack of freedom to make open profession of it's true perceptions is also a school of suppressed fury against any powerful adversary: a fury that gathers itself into unrestrained hatred and fanaticism." (adapted from Goldziher)

INDEX	WHAT IS	USING	RULES	PRIVACY	EMAIL
WISH LIST	IDEAS	INVENTIONS	PROBLEMS	LINK LIST	PATENTS
	FILMSCRIPTS	VISIT	WEBSITE DESIGN HELP	COMMENT	TECHO


Lest We Forget