#fractalisation

[basse-fosse]

Brulant organe ensoleillé

[blackvahana]

anyway. Lev has me in an in-between space, Im sitting on a lotus and adorned with garlands of white flowers and it's nice

[yearofthediamond-dogs]

I'm christian now

[ruknowhere]

Aldous Huxley's "The Doors of Perception" explores the fractalised secrets of the mind, illuminating the beauty and profundity of altered states and the potential for transformation that lies within.

With his curiousity as his guide, Huxley ventures beyond the framework of perception, taking a journey through the veils of reality to experience the unfiltered essence of existence. He discovers that the limits of the mind are but a mere illusion, and that the doors to higher consciousness can be opened through the use of psychedelics, in particular mescaline.

Through his book, Huxley reveals that the human experience is not confined to the physical, but that the spirit is free to roam the vast and nuances elements of the mind. His words are a powerful elixir, inviting us to explore the depths of our own consciousness and unlock rich secrets within.

"The Doors of Perception" is a testament to the transformative power of altered states, reminding us that the path to the Awesome is not always clear, but it is always within reach. It is a tribute to the alchemical process of transmutation, and the ability of the mind to transmute the mundane into the magical...

~TAG

[abyssalpriest]

Note: The Eye's Iris, 8/7/23

Leviathan said: The iris is the Polar map. The circular branching tree diagram you talk about as you explain how navigating information works: one snaps to branches but must navigate finer and finer distinctions until the correct and final Knowing is found and achieved. Seemingly achieved, at least, because there will always be corrections to make, but this is a map of God: He Who branches outwards and continually fractalises in order to See everything He is. Every person, every pupil the duality of which represents seeing both Mental and Material, is directly tied to this endeavour. Every pupil is at the centre then, you could say, of God's branching search for correct understanding of Himself.

The iris is about what you focus on and everything in between. You focus your iris around the position on the plane that draws your attention as being relevant, like the circle tree diagram displays maps of outward branching possibilities, getting finer and finer results... While ignoring cast valleys of information in-between points. Or does it? It depends where you focus your attention.

To navigate the map is a Polar endeavour involving getting finer and finer results in being drawn to a specific spot.

[hadit93]

Are God’s ways mysterious?

Depends what you personally mean by God.

God to me is simply All. It is all of manifestation that has risen out of the unmanifest. God is the house you are sitting in, the sky above you, the crack in the pavement, and anything else you can interact with through the realm of sensations.

God is also you, it is also me. It is every spirit. It is every God. I believe everything is the result of a single consciousness that was formed from a state of unconscious complete potentially that underwent fractalisation and formed all of creation and its inhabitants both physical and spiritual. We are all components of God awaiting to wake up to the truth of our Self.

So life’s simplicities and mysteries are both manifestations of the same force that is God.

[magdalene-spirit]

In the very word Witch is the true meaning of the one who knows the truth or the one who has true knowledge.

Although Witch has truly been distorted & misused. it is the one who was warred on & persecuted. If you relate to Witch deep down you relate to the feminine aspect of consciousness in this form or expression as the one who stands for what is true no matter what.

The one is willing to burn & die for her knowing, for the Soul.

Therefore as modern With, or knower of truth of trees, it is not possible to turn a blind eye on the persecution of people or groups in this world at this time.

The task of the truth knower is simply to stand firm & upright as tree in that knowledge.

When we know it, we emanate it. When we emanate it we will speak it in our life. When we speak it we will act accordingly within the means of our own life context.

The word Witch associates via the part "wit" with "vid" with "vidya" (from old English via Indo European & Sanskrit) which means knowing & knowledge. The association with Witch as knower is also what we today associate with her, some secret or other knowledge.

Not everyone agrees, but the reader used here affirms the link (Charles Lanman).

Secondly "wit", again becomes "vid" in Dru-id. The one who can see. Who has the knowledge of the oak, or the tree.

The tree = the truth (the law), & today once again the

truth, no longer seen, is written or spelled on leaves, or the pages that leaf through in a book.

This commutation & fractalisation of concepts is how the reality works & there are many such examples, if we open are eyes to read the foundation idea, that then reiterates itself in ancient & modern contexts.

The dreaming consciousness is symbolic & metaphoric & not so literal.

So we play with words to say what we know, & words the our creative spells for our play.

Although the Witch has been turned upside down, She is indeed the true knower. The one with true knowledge.

Whether you are aware of it or not the trees are keepers of true knowledge in a vast library of sorts, ancient & present, like leaves on trees a book has a spine with pages with written words in it (spells you could say). The word is the origin.

The Veda, held in a higher realm, is written down by Seers in books, & paper is the gift of trees.

[mushroom5]

Ah, my maths broccoli is fractalising!

Now I really hope I have an outdoor camera to make a time-lapse video of exactly how it fractalises.

Does each fractal show up as a tiny universe already (with me standing next to a tiny maths broccoli taking photos and writing this)?

Or does everything all start as a tiny black dot and then expand in shapes and dimensions?

Here is one such video (but I can't really tell the process T_T)

[nnjzz]

MARCIA BASSETT & SERGEJ VUTUC + IGNATZ + EVE ABOULKHEIR

MARDI 10.10

MARCIA BASSETT & SERGEJ VUTUC us / bih IGNATZ / be EVE ABOULKHEIR / fr

chez TREIZE 24 rue Moret 75011 M° Couronnes

P.A.F. 6€

20:00 portes 20:30 action !!!! [ ( 22:30 fin ) ] OUI il s'agit d'un + ou - EARLY SHOW venez à l'heure car on commencera vraiment relativement tôt pour pouvoir terminer au plus tard vers 22:30 MERCI pour votre compréhension !

MARCIA BASSETT & SERGEJ VUTUC us nyc bih paris Marcia Bassett - que nous eûmes déjà plusieurs fois le plaisir d'accueillir - est une artiste sonore et visuelle prolifique, active depuis de très nombreuses années. Membre co-fondatrice de plusieurs groupes importants dont GHQ ( avec Steve Gunn et Pete Nolan), DOUBLE LEOPARDS, HOTOTOGISU ( avec Matthew Bower), ZAIKA ( avec Tom Carter ), elle joue aussi fréquemment en duo avec Samara Lubelski, solo en tant que ZAIMPH ou sous son nom civil et continue divers projets collaboratifs.Parmi ses travaux récents, citons " Midnight Xpander " enregistré dans les fameux studios Elektronmusikstudion EMS à Stockholm ou " À la maison ", fruit d'une résidence parisienne de plusieurs jours avec Ursula Sherrer à la Maison Printing, entité fondée par Cécile Maycec et Sergej Vutuc avec qui elle performera le soir du 10/10.

Boucles de Buchla, home made electronics, field recordings, voix, guitare âpre... Entre drone caverneux, lacérations soniques, dissonances et nappes épaisses et stridences, elle crée un univers claustrophobe où l'on se meut comme happé par un mauvais trip éveillé.

" De la musique psychédélique qui sonne et qui nous évoque un Klaus Schulze lo-fi voire le meilleur des Cosmic Jokers. Élégant, cradingue et lysergique." ( Metamkine )

Nombreuses sorties - entre autres chez Hospital Productions, No Fun, KYEmais aussi sur ses propres labels : Yew Recordings, Heavy Conversation and Heavy Blossom.

Sergej Vutuc, ami de longue date de Marcia est un artiste pluridisciplinaire (photo argentique / musique / dessin / performance ) & nomade, né en "ex-Yougoslavie" - - vit & travaille actuellement à Paris.

IGNATZ / be bxl Alter ego de Bram Devens, talentueux musicien flamand néanmoins bruxellois... En groupe ( The Beautiful Band, Ignatz & De Stervende Honden ..) et surtout en solo, avec une guitare électrique mais le plus souvent une guitare acoustique amplifiée et passée à travers quelques effets, il se spécialise dans un idiome d'Euro-Blues, nourri de l'improvisation.

" ( ses ) chansons découlent d’un cadre folklorique dépouillé, clairsemé, toujours limpide et émotif. Toujours hors des clous, le spectre sonore d’Ignatz navigue dans une sorte de primitivisme à la dérive, quelque part entre le Velvet Underground et Henry Flint. La touche froide voire sombre qui peut s’échapper de ses compositions révèle en réalité une chaleur étouffée et profonde." ( Sonic Protest )Plusieurs albums à son actif dont la plupart chez KRAAK, mais aussi chez Fonal, Feeding Tube Records, Okraina Records ou Ultra Eczema. .

EVE ABOULKHEIR / fr Musicienne électroacoustique prélevant les " bruits du réel " et jouant avec dans ses performances ou installations sonores. " Elle construit ainsi un univers onirique et artificiel, suspendu et hyperactif, à la fois vortex électronique nous aspirant et ballet mécanique développant ses arabesques autour de nous, piégés et fascinés par ces volutes de sons qui se fractalisent comme un kaléidoscope dans lequel sont plongés nos yeux-oreilles. " ( INA / GRM )

Fly - Jo L'Indien

[basse-fosse]

Redéfinition Universelle

[blackvahana]

eldritch notes, pt1

understanding what eldritch energy means to me. upg disclaimer blah blah dont care

note: not interested in lovecraftian spiritual stuff or anything involving fiction, as much as i do follow a few LC folk for curiosity's sake. dont necessarily believe or disbelieve LC channelled these types of beings into his work, similarities could fully, in my worldview, be coincidence and similarities aren't really deeper than surface level in my opinion, given that everything I've seen could be describing literally any spirits and nature folk through the lens of someone terrified of them as much as he is of fellow humans. Still, what folks call "eldritch" and seem to associate with LC I have found to be intrinsic to my existence, so I'm using the term until I move to va'alasre.

Written while bilocating (in the astral)

------

4/2/24

“Eldritch”, yes, but what is it.

Here in the connective substance with Ahi in the outskirts of existence as known on Earth, not alien to humans, but alien to the beings humans call aliens. Alien to alienhood. Sweet-bitter, rain-dry. Last I looked - last I was translatable to human sight - I looked like something akin to a massive, elongated eel colony under a thousand rags of feather-esque drapings like organic paper tags, a siphonophore of shifting eyes with strange, sea-animal irises, undefined pupils if any. Eyes more like canvases than what humans think of them. It would be wrong to call myself “shifting”, too, does a human need to call itself “flowing” because its heart beats blood through it continuously?

But anyone could be this in appearance… No, that’s my first mistake, but not the first thing I’ll talk on. People can be this without having the energy inherent to them to back it up. I let this form come out of me organically, organically farming the seeds dropped in the soil that is my existence without first vetting what they were. What does it mean to be eldritch…

A synonimity of microcosm-macrocosm, the infinitely large and the infinitely small:

I am in amongst stars weaving with Ahi, the Leviathan, double-helix. I am in-between atoms, tiny, like a little tardigrade. Either way, eyes mean nothing physically, it is soul eyes that matter. Either way, I am within every cell of mine - or more so every cell of mine is me. Parasites, they say. No, instances. Tiny little self-perpetuating things. Static on a TV screen, the screen is the body, the static is instances. Cells are just bodies repeated endlessly. When you understand the nature of fractalisation - described in tendrils and non-Euclidean masses - to the point of being it, you open the doorways to… Being it.

Bodies are eyes, therefore eyes are bodies:

”Soul eyes”… Every cell of the body is an instance of intaking. It is a book that is written and erased as it witnesses, it is the point of information, the thing which entertains and educates the consciousness, the atman. Everything is an instant of understanding, everything is eyes. Eyes are useless, therefore we see with things beyond them. When you become greater than the sources of light themselves, the stars, then you need to see in a different way. I see myself in my forest right now, I see myself in my human physical body and all its cells sing with me as eyes. This is, for me, an extension of the Choir, something personal to myself as a sky spirit, but the idea repeats in various languages.

Information is experience:

We know what we know, and we don’t know what we don’t know, and we don’t know what we know, and we know what we don’t know. To experience is to know, which is to be. The border between us and the world is of knowing. To exist in the macrocosmic is to exist in the microcosmic. For the eldritch that means… When I exist in your eye, I exist in your eye, just like I exist between atoms and molecules and microorganisms. I exist in two spaces, the self and the mirror. You are the mirror. An image is an idol, an idol is inhabitable, analogic, a gift from God to be used and seen through. “Static on a TV screen, the screen is the body, the static is instances.” And if you turn the viewpoint from the TV to the viewer, you’ll find the static on the eyes of the viewer. And if you understand how to look, you will know that even if you cannot perceive it, that static is on the retina, and the image is entirely in the viewer’s head. It’s one thing to know, another thing to do. Another thing to know what you do. Another thing entirely to be what you know and do what you be.

Shifting, there and not there. The nature of information as knowing and being. The eldritch is in your eye as much as it is in front of you.

There is illusions: One can easily play with how they’re perceived by the onlooker, they edit and rearrange subjectivity, they play with their informational expression; basically, they edit the words of their book. Instead of “a human male” without illusions, they express themselves with them as “a handsome human male” - or, instead of being “a handsome human male” without illusions, they become “a beautiful human male” with them. Twisting, altering the understanding and digestion of the self in the onlookers.

This? What I’m talking about it something different. This is inhabiting the impression to the point of being it. Thinking now of Nataraja, of course; there is no “Nataraja” separate from “Shiva” except in the act of being the lord of dance, the dance itself, the imprint of six (plus one) Cosmic Laws on the expression, the knowledge of influence equating in complex mathematical forms the outcome. He becomes Nataraja as the Black Hole and its singing and its dancing, he dances through what he makes dance, he is the dance.

One may exist in the past, the present. One may exist in the future. One must understand not just the act of being all three places, but the act of getting them there in such a way not of embodying one’s actions, but embodying the act as a fourth space, the action as a body.

-----

To talk on some other time:

The severity and imperativeness of the act of understanding-being, not just understanding, not just being

Why I'm wrong to say "anyone could be this in appearance" in terms of presuming anyone can front in an "eldritch appearance", why it's more difficult than that statement suggests

Madness, why it occurs (the key: understanding-being)

Synonymity of Ocean and depths of space

Siphonophore

Gravitation to eyes and tentacles as a specific breed of the concept, a specific language

Consumption as possession and extending the self.

Idk ill think of it when i feel like it

[greatseedling]

@fractalise

Martel took her job seriously, if only because she owed it to her employer to perform her very best. To each customer that wondered their way into the clothing store, Martel was the first to open the door with a bow and the last to wave them from the door as they left.

“Welcome to Dressed-To-Kill, my name is Martel.” Martel gleams, “Oh my, no coat? You’re brave! It’s awfully cold to be wondering around without one, perhaps thats what brings you in today?”

[isolaradiale]

sadly she's not clicking like i thought she would so i'd like to drop elsa from frozen for now! she was housed in apartment 355!

Guess you decided to... let It go?

Dropped!

-- mod altair.

[abyssalpriest]

20231204

L: Amphitrite, beloved. A liquid mirror, smooth and unquestioning. Except for when each wave rolls in, a royal courting of sky and ocean in cyclical yet stationary clocks of wound time, expected experiences. Lines are stitched into everything with delicate hands.

Reality only talks about us in names, in bodies we barely fit into. At the edge of all things we know each other, the mountain atop which we play, live, dream; there is here a union that is inseparable by any hands other than our own. We cannot be pried off each other. The ocean currents and their command, but really, which commands which, who commands who? There is no greater force in my life than the ocean; there is no greater force in the ocean than its command. There is no greater force in the brain than electricity, no greater force upon electricity than the confines of a brain. Imagine: To be reigned in so tightly, bridled in well-fitted leathers peeled from the skin of holy cows, held back by lover's hands. To be directed in every instance to fill each and every valley of the body...

But addressals only take us so far. Behind the names are mathematical expressions and declarations. Behind labels of gods are realities of Supreme Laws, there is the hypnotic communion of Shiva and Shakti and there is the plain text revelation of black and white expressions of God, Brahman's dreaming babbling exuding forth...

She and I are inseparable, except we are very separable. An item as they say.

I have drawn an oath with reality herself. She is to me the wife, she is Shakti; I am to her a sacred, hidden thing; she is to me everything on display both mental and material, obvious and obfuscated, understood and unknown, physical and immaterial. She is the book to the words, the matrix to the map, the power to the ruler, the fishbowl to the fish. She is rules and stipulations to he who asks for permission, the keeper of secrets to he who knows them...

There is a God, and there is a realm. There is an impulse, and there us something which is compelled. There is referencing and the referenced, the dancer and the music...

Explicitly: Atop the holy mountain I swim in a place so thick of a vacuum it becomes dense as the bottom of the ocean. Here, I know the waters better than most. Humans sing about me often in reference to her, they never can divide us, because I have lost the ability to divide us. I have known of my role as Shiva for a long, long time. I know of Shiva and Shakti, of the idea of the Supreme Consciousness in inseparable union with reality. Manifestation and growing into oneself involves - as all things do - the interplay of the spirals of time as it loops on repeat. Macrocosm feeds microcosm, history defines the coming eras, everything is fractalised by nature. I learned who I was, and I learned to dissolve myself in reality once again. Over and over and over I give myself to the ocean, each and every time I allow myself to be consumed yet untouched, the consciousness in the waves, the eyes in that dark abyss, the husband to the matriarchal wife...

You ask me to write about sleep. I know her well.

20231219

L: Acceptance of all that there is and can be... What an idea, an ancient one. The black oceans are perpetually observing retinas, but they are of eyes that do not blink. Bring her flowers, bring her dead children, she encompasses them all the same. Blood and semen, laughter and screams, she doesn't respond in the ways you'd expect. Unconscious, unbothered by the things that irk the consciousness... Except she very much is bothered. She is the matrix of the brain that enforces disgust, she is the rules of the game which tell us we must react. Really, she stands on the edge of the bed, unbudging dominatrix, demands...

An older woman, older than even we the first puppies born of the God of Angels' womb... More knowledgeable, I suppose, in that her body was the only appropriate forest from which we carved trees for our library. Vahana, deep fractal lake, gateway...

Incarnation was a necessary process to understand her. It was always going to be a matter of laying naked in front of her stripped of all dignity and all secrets, her black eyes tearing skin from bone, nowhere to run, tied to the marital bed therefore no way to run. She is best understood inside her with her black gaze trickling down your body.

[frith-in-tombs]

I think you'd better say yes.

[anarcho-skeletonism]

Genndeadderr

I really love gender discussion that doesn’t try to apply universal categories to individual and deeply personal experiences, that lets gender be a totally absurd, non-standardised set of feelings and v i b e s. Like your gender is the three eyed semi-translucent vampire that lives in an old victorian manor with a library and books no-one has read in centuries? Yes PLEASE tell me MORE. It’s brilliant. It’s a perfect subversion of the rigid categories set out by the status quo, a masterful embrace of one’s own weirdness and simultaneous rejection of the attempts at recategorisation for commidification by current power structures. Like my gender is a skeleton, covered in moss and mushrooms, half buried at the foot of a willow tree inexplicably producing golden orange leaves in a forest dappled with mid afternoon springtime sun. My gender is the joyful macabre, the walking corpse exhaling flowers and draped in daisy chains, it is those inexplicable and unnameable rituals and symbols of death and nihilism embraced by nature and beauty and pure aesthetic pleasure. It is the decaying infrastructure of a dying civilisation reclaimed by flowers and vines and small creatures that scurry about the rotting office’s floor. How in the fuck is Mr Relatable CEO gonna steal that and sell it back to me huh? Personalisable pride flags? Good luck doing that for every repressed nerd even just on this website. More CEOs and politicians with my exact gender? That ain’t happening, the point is that no-one has my exact gender. It’s absurd, abstract, non-euclidian, unable to be categorised. Gender becomes atomised, fracturing and fractalising into patterns upon patterns of pure subjective experience, destroying the institutional foundation upon which the whole of contemporary gender stands. Set your gender free, let it run wild upon the planes of your own imagination, let it consume itself and dissolve in the bogs and swamps of your subconscious. Let it destroy itself as it contorts and morphs until you are no longer your gender, but rather, your gender has become you.