That Is Not Is Which Is

Nothing is. Nothing was. Nothing shall be.

In the end, there is nothing. Perhaps.

In the beginning, there is only a gradual “coming around” of awareness. Children, such as Shanti Devi in India in the 1930s, have reported remembering past incarnations. But perhaps this is simply a glitch in the system.

The so-called “real world” is fraught with outliers—anomalies chronicled by writers like Charles Fort and Frank Edwards. And an entire body of occult knowledge pays testament to the idea that the rules of the world are not fixed, but pliable.

But are the rules of the world also flat? In the sense that, moment by moment, we cannot prove or verify anything outside ourselves—affecting ourselves—even as it happens. And maybe… not even that.

The Perceptor

Everything—and I mean everything—is experienced through the lens of you, the Perceptor. NOTHING is perceivable or transmittable by an exterior consciousness that can be verified outside your awareness of it. You could posit telepathy, sure—but even then, you are the sender and the receiver. We're back where we started. It all comes through the senses. And those senses can be shut off, as with the blind or the deaf. In their absence, others often sharpen—hearing for the blind, touch for the deaf.

But when the Perceptor finally ceases to receive, decode, and process those sensory inputs... what then? Whether the world outside continues on, independent of the dead Perceptor, is ultimately irrelevant. The Perceptor no longer receives the signal.

If a radio plays in an empty room, is it still broadcasting music?

Unless human consciousness survives bodily death, that’s impossible to ever know.

Human beings—assuming they even exist outside of myself—cannot accept this. They must operate from a bizarre, fractionated idea of reality, as if it’s some shared experience. But there is manifestly no experience that is not filtered through your perception of it. Again, it all comes back to the Perceptor, to the Self—and only the Self—as the sole lens, the only receiver of everything being transmitted.

Behind the Curtain

And one might well ask, of this strange VR video game “we” are all trapped in: who is doing the sending? The transmitting? Therein lies the secret unmanifest—the Man Behind the Curtain. The Wizard. Or… God?

Is the Perceptor simply a kind of browser—a limited interface by which some higher consciousness accesses this reality, scrapes it for information, stimulation, education? But then, even that implies a higher self which must also receive the signal… from where? A level above that? And above that? Where does it end?

Does it end? Or does it just keep echoing upward, endlessly mirrored eyes peering into mirrored eyes—each thinking it's the original?

Once one comes to the realization that they are literally walking around with the VR helmet of their skull firmly in place—experiencing a “world” that is only an illusion perceived by themselves—they begin to understand it’s impossible to be overly worried about anything, or give anything much credence at all.

It may be that the delusion of an exteriorized world is necessary to maintain sanity. But the delusion is easily cast aside once you realize that, upon your own death, there is absolutely no reason to assume anything continues independent of your perception of it. And even if it did—so what? Who would perceive it, if not you? It can only retain relevance if human consciousness survives the body. Otherwise, it’s meaningless.

Ergo: everything is just a three-dimensional movie. One with convincing sensations, yes—but every one of those sensations is nothing more than electrical impulses, decoded and interpreted by the nervous system.

Or is it?

---That Is Not Is Which Is.