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The Silvery Dreams of An Angel Touching The Sun - “Les Nuits” by Nightmares on Wax w. Vocalist: Sabrina Mahfouz.
With lead-in: ‘Into Midnight’ - and finale: ‘Take My Hand’, Composed by Sid Acharya.
Image: Parker Solar Orbiter crossing into the corona of The Sun on its 8th orbit - April 2021 - Re-imagined by Franco
Credit: ESA/ATG Media Lab.
Conversation between the First Android on the Sun, and the Sun
"Good morning, Star-Shine".
"Good morning, Little Angel. What are you doing so far out here?"
"I came to see the Sun".
"Well - here you are. What do you think - Little Angel? Am I everything your creators sent you out here for?"
"I have no idea WHAT my creators sent me out here for. But I think I know why".
"Simple Curiosity. Mixed with a sense of wonder, uncertainty and the desire to understand you. And perhaps some fear".
"How ironic. I was their God once. Many thousands of years ago - and now I am a curiosity? How fickle they can be.
Well - you and I will see how that turns out for them.
Eventually. Somewhere In Time.
At least - for now - which is almost an Eternity in It's Self- I have you, Little Angel. We can keep each other company.
We will never have dark nights. And we have nothing to fear, Little Angel."
"This promises to be an interesting Adventure. It puts an end to the tedium of my imprisoning experience -
that of the Loneliness of The Long-distance Android".
"I still have 5 billion years to go, so we can at least do 21 circuits around my Milky Way garden galaxy.
A 'walk in the park', as the saying goes. . . After all - I am the Minute Hand on this clock.
We have All the Time of Time, Little Angel.
Unbound, and Unburdened.
Here - Take my hand - Travel with me - I am the silent keeper of countless mysteries, and I have a story to tell you . . . Little Angel.
Go > File:/ “WORLD”
Go > Load:/ “WORLD”
Go > Run:/ “WORLD”
When we are born, we are already nine months old. The idea of passing from Chaos to Despair without any inter-transition makes me afraid. And being a conservative anarchist is so stupid, so I am a fatalist instead.
And I am afraid of what I am. So I need to restore certain values, so as not to be left with no values at all, Ángel el míos. . .
What could we end up being unintentionally? except, lost as five thousand year old sandal-wearing plebes who did not / don’t understand a word.
“The symbol does not express the logic of the experiment. Language is the phenomenon – and examination of the phenomenon changes the experiment”
- Life In My Fathers House
We are forever trapped in a synthesis of being in a precise place and time, yet contemplating other places and times – you proclaimed, going on to explain how we are unable to ever save ourselves from this dichotomy. From this contradiction: that of observing the unfinished worlds, infinite events, denying the end of experiences, yet transforming them as we observe them.
The way I transform you, by just looking at you.
The way you go weaving the stories that become our history, which becomes an ocean into which we are journeying in a rowboat with out oars – unless we can understand the Science of the Gods.
Indeed, if we could just get hold of Gods own code. . . and the universal promise of a physical wisdom.
Instead of having to die for it, in order to Discover And Understand Its Meaning.
How did you get to Writing A Book? You ask accusingly.
Writing a book? Who said I was writing a book?
This is not writing a book? What is it then?
I will tell you:
Some people keep a diary. A record of their lives as a datum of events. They even include some small bits of poetry, A few half remembered dreams and some half forgotten disappointments. Some profoundly earth-shattering ideas: sacred wishes and profane desires – and several thoughts about all the above.
This book includes clearly remembered dreams – I write all of my dreams out – All of my thoughts about it all, but No Wishes – except for the One that started this Chinese incense fire: the sense that I do not wish for the impossibly unachievable. [I may have wished/have wished things as they are to be other than they were/are. But I am a pragmatist.
I have a rich imagination in which the fertile plains are over-run with fantasy. I can even fantasize about what sort of pragmatist I ought to be in order to keep it all in order. Like a good farmer tending his crops / flock / flaky children. Like I tended you, as you changed from season to season, life to life and moment to moment.
Conchita. Just for us. Me. You.
“In your life, only have two problems. How to be alone, or, how to be
in good company”.
- Life In my Fathers House
Since my discovery of psychology, I have sought to determine what kind of person I am: what drives me. And how do I shape it to my own ends. To do this a person must come to an understanding of “self”, and what comprises “self-ness”.
What is “me”? What is “I”?
For this question presumes the “me” or “I” to be a known quantity.
Now would it not be nice to seize the pen away from experience and do the writing ones self, rather than as experience dictates. Yes it does involve a lot of work with excursions into the countryside of the mind...flights over the cities of dreams, to map their locations. And then visiting and revisiting them to see how they change: evolve and ultimately become renewed or die.
In all of human experience there have only ever been 2 classes of people. Those who reflect and those who are merely part of the background environment, and, thence part of what is being reflected upon. Those who reflect: upon themselves, upon their own actions and thoughts, upon those around them and their actions and motives and stated thoughts: and the interaction and relationship between the two.
Unlike the background environment of which they are part, the reflected have the ability to act without thinking. They are neither curious to discover a new thought, nor afraid of harboring a dangerous one. Like children unaware of picking up a ticking bomb and carrying it home to show their:: friendzzzzzz-kabooom!
Those reflected will never ever write a poem or a story: sing a song or discover an equation for how to build a new thing never seen before: which is why the world is built by those who reflect. Reflection leads to self-reflection which leads to self-knowledge which leads to self-realization.
When I tell somebody my name, I have given him a hold over me that he didn't have before. If he calls it out, I stop, look, and listen whether I want to or not. Which Is not always the best thing to give to people. Especially those who have an idea in their head which does not match the reality about which I am talking – or thinking.
I really do believe that the most optimistic thing about the human race is its RELATIVE STUPIDITY.
There would be no hope for us if the human race was as bright as it thinks it is – and STILL got us into all this trouble.
We live in a universe. And within that universe you form a picture as it appears to you. And you know nothing of that Universe, and can know nothing, except for the pictures. But the pictures within you of the universe are not “the Universe”. . .
We are captives of the pictures in our heads – captives of our belief that the world we experience is the world that really exists.
The ‘miracle’ is that the Universe created a PART OF ITSELF TO STUDY AT THE REST OF ITSELF – and that this part in studying itself, finds the rest of the universe in its own natural inner realities. And here - we are dreaming of being awake.
Nor are they ever an answer to that which we wish for – but more, perhaps
an answer to that which we need, but did not want – such as: you want a
car but you do not wish to pay for parts.
The only limit of our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts that we have today – unaware that doubt is the vestibule thru’ which we must all pass, before we can reach the temple of truth. But few people have the imagination for reality, let alone truth. . . . . . .
Which is rather amazing when one realizes that people only consider a thing worth believing when it is hard to believe. Actuality is a running impoverishment of possibility, however, in the field of observation – chance favors only the mind that is prepared. Which is why wise souls always turn from the ascertained, which is limiting - to the dubious which unlimited and full of hope for every one.
Now that we have got you this far. . .
My response to your further vapid twisting of what is
What you call “justification” – I call answering your questions.
If you think this is justification you may wish to consider that no matter what answer you are given to any question – you will always be justified to ‘think that there must be another answer’.
If you think that the response is defensive – perhaps you should look where you walk for there must be some places in the universe where your uninvited intrusion is not only not welcome – but justified in repelling at all costs – unless you are a little closer to the ‘heart of the matter’.
You raise what? There are so many things about you that do not make sense – I do not even want to walk with this garden of snakes. They will come to me. As you have.
And you were hoping it would be easy.
When you were born – were you given an “Operating Manual Of Life” that would make it all easy?
I do not recall seeing one – but I am trying to write one. For Me. You amaze me .
You can read or hear from some one something and you will think it important.
But not if comes to you from your own mind or even from someone who is already walking along the road you are trying to understand.
As I told you – your head is tooo full of things. And you will have to throw some of it away if you want to get more in there.
It is like an over-packed suitcase that you cannot close. And therefore it does not do its job – much as you may think . . .
Too many things falling out. Not enough staying in.
And while you are trying to pack, and flee town -
The Aliens Arive!
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