Censorship Violates Consciousness

Our old paradigms of consciousness are shifting.  More and more we have the courageous scientists stepping out of their consensus trance, and one of the biggest is certainly Nassim Haramein.  I heard him first many years ago, and while he’s still way over my head, this interview helps to break down his theory to the lay audience.

While I can’t say how or why or if crystals work, or planets are hollow, or if the Fractal Systems Theory is the new Big Bang, I can agree on one fundamental aspect of the nature of the universe and of consciousness, and that is what the spiritualists once called ‘ether’ exists.  We are ‘informing’ the universe and it us in return at every nano-second.  I know this by studying nature, as did many of Haramein’s predecessors, like Viktor Shauburger and Nikola Tesla and Albert Einstein.  You don’t have to be an actual renowned physicist, or a 19th century clairvoyant, you only have to start to recognize and appreciate the patterns of nature all around us.  There is an organizing principle, a higher law, and to bring this all back down to earth, this is why censorship is a crime.

We absolutely need more powerful individuals like this Google insider gone whistleblower to clean out these violations of natural law.

The voice and will of the people is what creates our reality, at every layer.

Thelema Trumps Agape?

Passion is not chaos.  Drama is not intimacy.  Love is not Care.
I am not you.  You are not we.

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If you insist my blood, sweat and tears be used to line your pockets, then I will instead choose to fertilize the roses with them.

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If you insist I choose your laws over my own well-being then I will break those laws by every means, hook or crook.

If you insist I donate my organs to serve your nefarious aims, then those organs will come to you riddled with the poisons I willfully ingest, that I gorge on simply for the pleasure of poisoning your agenda deeper in return.

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If you insist I offer my thoughts to you, measured, tempered, on your silver platter, twisted in pretty plaits and coated in marzipan, thine will be done, my Lord and Master, but their bitter core you will still ingest.

So still we dance that macabre dance, mon seigneur.