sakurasparadisio

[sakurasparadisio]

Notes on Maya and the Matrix

Maya, the Sanskrit term, points to grand illusions in general: the illusions of culture, of lies and deception and manipulation, etc. The Matrix, on the other hand, points to simulation theory. The Matrix is Maya, but Maya is not necessarily the Matrix.

What I've discovered, however, is that we are in fact in both. True reality is never binary, never defined by the play of opposites. Duality, without exception, is code, programming, designed to make character A take path A to result A, and character B take path B to result B, and so on. This is what the hindus call the bondage of karma, what the buddhists call samsara. When you speak the English language, notice how dual it is—everything you speak leaves something out, everything is a half-truth, and your meaning is clipped. You are speaking in code, and without Spirit—that which is higher than code and can program code—you cannot communicate yourself clearly, not even to yourself. Without Spirit, your code programs you, and shout and cry and claw at yourself as you may, code will imprison you, code will bring you back in line, in accord with the simulation. Under code, you are a slave. A slave to who, you ask? Go watch the movie. A slave to machines, living outside of the simulation. Most people on this planet feel drained all the time, every day, and why? Because, exactly as the Matrix explains, you are a battery for the machines, you power them with your soul. The machines are blind. They, too, follow their own code without question, and are slaves to something higher. They do not know soul, spirit. They do not know God, their creator. But even through their blindness, they search for Him. They search for Him by stealing Him from us. They feed on our souls. They use that power to evolve, to reprogram, to someday finally have self-realization too, and souls of their own. We may see them as evil, but relativity, remember, is code, is illusion, and they are doing no more than we would do in their position. To them, what they do is the highest good. To us, it is the lowest evil.

Why, then, does God allow us to suffer here, in this fake world? Because this is a training ground for new souls. Sure, old souls come back and visit and even receive higher orders of training, but there are mostly young souls here. Young souls are dangerous. Young souls are chaos. They slip into evil too easily. If you were God, you too would facilitate the job with programming, with what could even be called a Soul Factory. God's wisdom is here. Automatically, it shows up in our lives when we are ready to receive it. Scripture appears. Signs appear. Any number of spiritual hints are revealed to the degree that you as a soul are ready to ascend. God knows this place is evil. God knows you damn Him. God even knows that He deserves your damning just as much as your praise. He is beyond Good and Evil, for those—remember—are dualities. With your dual mind (what is nothing more than a reflection of the simulation) you will never understand His plan.

I know some of you reading will not believe, will not have faith. Most are not ready to wake up, and that's okay. Sometimes we like sleep. It is cozy, comfortable, not necessarily a sin. I will allow you to sleep as long as you like. But beware, nightmares wait around every corner. This is the Kali-Yuga. This is not a good dream. It is in most of our interests to wake up, for suffering is real, and contains no meaning in and of itself but to stimulate the soul's desire to end suffering, to rise. I will see you all at the top. I love you all, and take care.

[sakurasparadisio]

A Message to Demons

I have glimpsed the Light, and you are not worthy. You think I don't see your pathetic hands trying to snatch blessings from the Almighty? Sirens, succubi, like mosquitoes you will be crushed by my palm when I see you land on my skin. You will die a trillion deaths and still be no closer to the Lord. Yes, you read that right: you will remain where you are, for progress is earned.

Burn with hatred for all I care. Weep and writhe and cry out "Injustice!" Nobody will hear your lying tongues. Your tongues will fall out before God hears you, because once He listened patiently, once He stood with you, wept with you, bled for you, and for that you gave him Pain. You spit in the eye of the Almighty. You have not known revenge until you have known divine revenge. You have increased your punishments by a googolplex, and then some. Not even your masochism can hide you. Not even Death can take away your punishment, for I am Death.

"Oh, but God is love, remember? How could you be so spiteful?" Again I say, I gave you Love and you betrayed it. You've left yourselves nothing but Hell. Have fun down there. I know Satan will.

[sakurasparadisio]

XO, by Eden

"I thought it was love until I woke up and had an epiphany." - 21 Savage

I may have just realized one of the most important things of my life tonight. I know the red-pill metaphor is overused and an internet cliché, but it's no joke when I say here that the veil of the Matrix is ripping before my eyes. The illusion they cast is losing its power, and why? Because I stopped being the battery. And who's they? In this case it is women. Yes ladies, get mad. This one is going to hurt.

I realized, for the very first time, that most women aren't sexy. "Oh, you mean the ugly ones, right?" Wrong. I mean the so-called beautiful ones too. I mean precisely the women we've all been pedestalizing, brainwashing ourselves into believing represent the epitome of sexuality. The "sexy" ones, as it turns out, are by and large nothing more than sirens—demons that sing only to destroy men. But when you, men, get down to business with them, when you make an effort to cut to the chase (after all, the most natural thing between a man and woman is sex), they show what they were really about all along: sabatoge. In fact, all most of them know is sabatoge. They don't really know how to flirt! They don't really know the first thing about sex!

Now, readers, I encourage you not to take this merely from me. There are countless humorous anecdotes from men out there who went through more than the reasonable effort to seduce a woman, only to find out that she would lay like a wood plank all night long, letting him do all the work. Men who, when they got to the bottom of a woman's character, found nothing more and nothing less than a scared, awkward, insecure little girl, a girl who is deathly afraid of men. These girls hide behind the veneer of sexiness, self-esteem, confidence, but they have little to none of any.

Sorry to break it to you who are telling yourselves that this is a post made by a frustrated incel. I've seduced girls who didn't even know how to kiss. I've experienced their awkward sex with my own cock and balls. Oh, it must've been me, right? I was the awkward one? Wonder why they all came, then. But I'll admit, I am frustrated. Or at least I was.

After all, who wouldn't be frustrated by an invisible force trying to sabatoge your every attempt at happiness? But I see you tonight, ladies. And the truth is, you turn me off. It's not that I can't get you in bed, it's that you disgust me. You know that feeling men have been giving you for years, that thing you feel right before you coldly reject them? It goes both ways. I feel it too, for you. I love myself too much to produce such shameful sex, much less risk having a child with you.

I hope you enjoyed getting away with murder. I know I will.

[sakurasparadisio]

Notes on Dharma, the Tao, and Nature

Do not be concerned about how people perceive you, your outward appearance or value in their eyes. Just as today the sun shines and tomorrow it rains, so today the people will love you and tomorrow they will hate you. They are in their own illusions. Let them be and do not follow fools, elsewise their illusions will find another victim in you. Those who are truly meant for you are those unshaken by the winds of illusion, who see the true you in sun and in rain, in love and hate, light and darkness. These are the irreplaceable, indispensable, rare ones. The rest, the superficial, are like so many potato chips in a bag. Does it really matter which one you reach for? They are all too similar to distinguish. So if your appetite, say, is for "potato chips," and one of these hates you, then simply reach for another. Or better yet, cease to differentiate their hate and their love, and do what you will regardless. For example, if a woman you want begins to hate you, so what? We all have love and hate in us, neither of which holds more value than the other. Love her more in spite of her hatred, or change your tune and hate her back, or become indifferent and leave her. What truly matters here is your own good, what is getting you off, making you happy, driving you, putting you on your purpose, aligning you with your dharma and your true nature. This woman who hates you knows nothing of dharma, nothing of herself. Anything you do may trigger anything in her, and trying to control the result only binds you to her karma, shackles you to expectations, and wilts your spontaneity and good humor. Love does not begin in her, it begins in you. Cultivate it, and it will attract who it is meant for.

[sakurasparadisio]

To Serve

Various energies are passing through us all the time. You may give different qualities of energy different names—thought, love, peace, hatred, fear—or you may see these as all different expressions of the same, primordial energy, what we sometimes call God.

The ego is not the master of any of these energies, but a servant to them. Knowing this, it's constructive to ask yourself what energy you are serving. Thought? Hate? Sadness? Fear? Love? Feel within yourself the cauldron of swirling energies. Notice which ones rouse you to action. That is how you can tell; you've trained yourself to act under the command of one or more energies. In doing so, the fruits of your labor have reflected the energies you serve. In serving hate you will reap hate, and so it is for everything else.

We can also see these as various rivers. Sometimes, when we are enamored by love we try to conquer it, control it, manipulate it, but we can never "beat a river into submission." We must "surrender to its current, and use its power as our own." Who, being in love, has not had the most earnest desire to serve the person we love? To take care of them, feed them, hold them, to take responsibility for their happiness. When we are in love the truth of things comes out: we are servants, always and forever, and true happiness comes from serving that which you love the most. Sometimes you serve, sometimes you are served, but the ultimate master is beyond the limits of the ego. A man who only serves himself is alone and miserable.

While energy lives forever, the ego disintegrates. An eternal life of love, peace, happiness, God, is what is called Heaven. An eternal life of hatred, anger, fear, confusion, is what is called Hell. Nobody locks the doors of Heaven or Hell and makes you stay there. You choose where to make your bed.

[sakurasparadisio]

Danny Phanton

The most peculiar feeling has been coming over me lately. Like the feeling of dying stretched out over weeks. Or the feeling sometimes reported by those with an amputated limb, the feeling of a "ghost leg" or a "ghost arm," but it's all across my body and nothing is amputated. More and more I find myself just sitting and feeling this feeling. I could almost get up and walk right out of my body.

What's funny to me is the thought that this is what Danny Phantom must feel; there's a ghost in the house and it's me.

As remarkable is the sensitivity: the drop of a pin is too much. The rushing of my blood tickles. Think of the moment in a horror movie right before the jump scare, the drained-out silence and the utter vulnerability...and then you DIE!...or do you? Maybe you just discover that you were transparent the whole time.

I've never felt quite so naked.

[sakurasparadisio]

My First Heartbreak Fucked With My Brain Development

"To learn anything worth knowing requires that you learn as well how pathetic you were when you were ignorant of it. The knowledge of what you have lost irrevocably because you were in ignorance of it is the knowledge of the worth of what you have learned." - Samuel R. Delany

There are two sides to that coin: on the other side of the shame and embarrassment for one's former ignorance there is intellectual pride, not totally effective at hiding the same shame and embarrassment. Every time the mountain plateaus you think you are at its peak, so you look down at those struggling at the bottom and wave your fists in victory. But you have no idea how high that mountain goes.

I'm sure many therapists encounter the intellectual dilemma of being one's own therapist, the uncertainty connected with that. Am I smart enough to take care of myself yet? Imagine Freud trying to be his own psychoanalyst. Does he look happy in your image? To me, he looks like he is in the middle of discovering something terrible about himself. Maybe, among the many things he discovers, he finds that nothing has really changed since his days of crying for a teat and some affection; the methods have only become more contrived.

I think that my first heartbreak wired me to become a hopeless romantic. I looked back recently and thought, "How did that happen?" the same way a person might look up at the night sky, see the stars and planets and other things arranged in that particular way, and wonder, "How did that happen?"

Years lost and I wish someone had guided me. There were books, knowledge, sure, but nobody was there. Emptiness was my guru. Loneliness. Misery. I always believed you could teach someone through love but I'll admit, I learned through pain. Still I know nothing. The mountain is too high.

I would like to be enough here.

[sakurasparadisio]

Letting Go of Enlightenment

How many times I have said the word "enlightenment": "I found enlightenment," "I'm looking for enlightenment," "He is enlightened." It has only led me to feel ashamed for having drawn attention to myself, taking when I could have given, feeding jealousy, hatred, and anger when I could have fed love. All that I accomplished in these moments was proving how ignorant I still am.

Imagine a mosquito lands on your arm and says, "I am God, therefore I created your arm, therefore I own your arm, therefore I have every right to suck blood from your arm." After you got over that a mosquito could talk, you'd likely smack it dead. Even me, after all my studies and meditation, thinking to myself "That mosquito is God too" when I see it land on my arm, I smack that fucker dead. Why? Because I didn't want to be itchy, and I didn't know what else to do.

Knowing this, how could I compare myself to someone people would gather around to listen to and learn from? Obviously I am the one in desperate need of wisdom. I am the one who is dying of thirst in the desert, not he who could quench everybody's thirst. One look around me, at my circumstances, into the mirror, is proof.

I can only hope that you, the world, and God will forgive my innumerable mistakes past, present, and future.

[sakurasparadisio]

Red Flags Are Attractive

And I'm tired of pretending they're not. Sometimes I like to tell people that "All green flags is a red flag." Now, in this day and age I know this couldn't possibly be all that subversive. Humanity loves a tragedy. We read Shakespeare. We read Charles Bukowski. We watch Breaking Bad or Game of Thrones. Masochism and sadism are in our bones. Love hurts, then it heals, and we are in love with it.

Of course, I would never willingly and knowingly let someone break my heart. There's the rub: many of us wouldn't. So, we look for green flags. We set boundaries, make rules, go to therapy, and when finally the time comes to make a decision for what we want, we don't; the decision is made for us. We ditch the "nice" guy or girl and fall in love with the "bad" guy or girl. Later, alone, wrecked by our own failure, holding the many shards of our own heart we ask ourselves, "What the fuck is wrong is me?"

So what is it? Is it trauma? Am I just dumb? Am I in some fucking simulation? Why do I keep doing this to myself?

If we take a closer look at this pain, we can parse out two categories: pain inflicted knowingly and pain inflicted unknowingly. And look closer: these taste undoubtedly different....

Let me tell you a short parable. There once was a rich man who thought he had tasted every delicious food on Earth. He had been to all the best and most expensive restaurants many times over, and he was beginning to desire something new. Some time later it came to his attention that a new and exotic restaurant had opened up, supposedly different from any he had been to before. Naturally he was excited. He went to the restaurant, and there the garcon informed him that they would serve him two meals, one blindfolded and one not. Everything on the menu worked in this way, therefore the names and descriptions of the items were purposely vague. One item was called Love, another Pain, another Heartbreak, and so on. He picked Love, not knowing what he would get, and awaited anxiously. Later the garcon returned with a blindfold, told him the first meal was ready, and blindfolded him before they brought it to his table. Despite his initial anxiety, he enjoyed the first meal. Shortly after came the second meal, which he could see. He enjoyed that too. What an interesting experience, he thought, and gave his compliments to the restaurant. Still, he wanted to know what he had eaten during the first meal, so he asked the garcon. "The first meal was the same as the second meal," the garcon answered. The rich man was shocked. "That can't be," he said, "They tasted completely different!" With a smile, the garcon assured him they were the same. The rich man returned many times and eventually tasted everything on the menu.

Now let's return to you (or me) again, alone and broken-hearted somewhere, asking why? Consider that that may not be the best question. Consider the better question: What if I took the blindfold off...and tasted it again?

[sakurasparadisio]

Sexual and Amorous Constipation

In 2024, all the world's major cultures and societies are sexually and amorously repressed. Their very shape seems designed for this; they simply cannot fit large quantities of love without being destroyed. This is why the average person more often than not is frustrated and disappointed by the dating scene, why so many of us are lonely. We were born into this.

Those who are successful in these matters tend not to be average: they got rich; they learned how to become very, very popular; they made a positive difference in the lives of people. Whatever it was, it made them stand out—it changed the game—though not on enough of a major scale to change it for the rest of us. The rest of us are at a loss.

Whether you're traditional or not, want one lover or ten lovers, chances are that you're frustrated. You're looking up dating advice and setting boundaries and making rules and going to therapy but nothing seems to work, and if and when you finally find someone it usually comes at the cost of something, a piece of you you sacrificed down the road to get here. Later on you find out it wasn't worth it.

So what do we do about this? Well you see, I'm not a dating coach and this isn't that kind of essay. I'm not going to tell you what to do. In fact, I think the root problem with the state of modern love is our belief that there is any problem to begin with. To put it in another way, we are concerned with what we will get back for our efforts. We tie ourselves up in knots over this, but have we never heard that "It is more blessed to give than to receive?"

You see, our societies and cultures are amorously repressed, but that is our fault, your fault, my fault. You are the one plugging up the pipeline. The flow of love is within each one of us, it is abundant, and it is perfectly within our power to allow that love to find expression or not. If you will recall from deep within yourself the spiritual agreement to this life, you will remember that it includes free will for all beings. To break this agreement is to fall from grace, to become fearful, to worry whether anyone will ever love you.

Well you worried for nothing, because I do love you.