by Jon Rappoport

April 9, 2019

(To join our email list, click here.)

Hard showers of rain, sky clearing, warming temperatures, then cold, snow, quickly followed by the budding greenery of spring…a collision of seasons…

I was walking in the woods and came to a small cottage. The door was open. There was just one room. The walls were lined with shelves, and books filled the shelves. I picked one out and brought it to a small table and a chair. I sat down. There was a lighter, an open pack of small twisted cigars, and a glass bowl on the table. The book was bound in soft leather, and my birth date was engraved in silver on the cover. I opened the book.

It contained a shockingly detailed account of my life. There were no chapter headings—but instead, pages with decades indicated. 1940-50, 1950-60, and so on. I searched the pages until I came to one that announced a decade I had not yet lived. After a moment of reflection, I picked up the lighter, flicked it, and set the book on fire. It quickly burned down to ash. I scooped the ashes into my hand and poured them into the glass bowl. A small translucent figure appeared in the bowl.

“Right,” it said. “You’ve made a bold decision. Your future is now destroyed. You’re no longer part of the Great Plan for all human beings. You can strike out in any direction.”

“What’s the Great Plan?” I asked.

The figure smiled. “The ultimate collective destination and organization of beings. It’s the structure.”

“Then I’m satisfied,” I said. “I don’t want to be part of that.”

The little figure nodded. “Good luck,” it said, and faded out.

I walked out of the cottage and down a path in the forest. I came to a house. It was conventionally built, with two identical wings. But the wing to my left was broken by a series of blurred overlapping shapes. Inside and around this Thing were several people. I recognized their faces. They were not part of my past or future, and I couldn’t call up their names. They were changing the shapes. They were making space and time. There was no intention of coordination. But in some way, the evolving shapes did interact with one another.

Drawn to this activity, I walked into a multi-sided shape and began to invent my own forms. I erased some and added others. I felt a strange delight. I was in a place I always wanted to occupy.

I had no sense of copying forms. I was inventing them from zero. Space and time were null until I gave them shape. The other artists and I were apart from one another and also together, but the togetherness was not intrusive. There was no urge to collaborate or mimic one another. Space and time—their changing nature—were delicious. We were all free in the same way. Free meant FREE. Every line, every stroke we made carried a sense of spontaneous revelation. Look at THIS.

I knew my own past, but no details remained. It had all been absorbed and digested.

Then I began to see scenes—waves breaking and rolling on a distant beach, a black sky full of blinking stars, a great high waterfall pouring down in the middle of a jungle, ranges of mountains receding to the horizon—they were inside a giant frame that was labeled ETERNITY. I understood that I was supposed to see these pictures as markers of endless life, but life inside the Plan. It was pure deception.

If anything was eternal, it was my own act of creation.

I passed into a state of ecstasy…

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29^th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

Jon Rappoport

April 2, 2019

(To join our email list, click here.)

You stroll through a museum.

Many rooms, many paintings.

You come upon a large landscape. Fields, cottages, hills, valleys, mountains rising in the background.

While other people move past it with a glance, you walk closer.

It’s lovely.

There, in the lower left-hand corner, you see the beginning of a narrow trail among a stand of pines. You wish you could…

A man is suddenly standing next to you. He’s smiling.

“Go ahead,” he says. “You can do it.”

Absurd. And yet…

You wonder.

“All it takes is conviction,” he says.

You look closer at that trail. Beyond the trees, there is a small cabin. It’s perfect.

And then…you’re walking along the trail. You can feel the soft earth under your shoes. You can smell the pines.

You walk faster, and in a few minutes you arrive at the cabin.

The door is ajar.

You enter.

One room. A bed, a small table, a chair, a fireplace.

On the mantle, there is a book bound in cracked leather. You walk over, pick it up, and open it.

You see drawings of a city. Crowded streets, people sitting in sidewalk cafes, cars, tall buildings. You can hear the noise on the streets.

It’s the kind of city you’d like to visit. There you would be free, unattached. You would walk and live as an unknown person. You would be a stranger, but no one would know that.

The cabin is gone. You’re exiting a ground-floor apartment in the city. You’re emerging on to a street with a briefcase in your hand.

You open the briefcase. In it are several file folders.

You see a sheaf of papers. They seem to be a report. The name of the author…you sense it’s your name.

You have a job. You think about it for a few seconds, and you realize you know where your office is. It’s up the street and over three blocks.

Suddenly, you’re sitting in that office. You look out the window. You’re a dozen floors above the street.

A woman walks in and sets down a cup of coffee on your desk.

She lays a key next to the coffee.

“This is the one you wanted,” she says. “I did a little research and found out it used to be a freight elevator.”

She walks out.

You pick up the key and examine it. It’s made of gray metal. There is a circle inscribed in it, and inside the circle is a square.

You stand up and walk out of the office, along a corridor, and through an exit. There on your left is a large set of double doors.

You insert the key into a hole and the doors open. You step in.

The doors close and you feel the elevator descend.

After a minute, it stops and opens. You step out. The doors close behind you.

You’re standing in a small room. On the walls, you see drawings and inscriptions, pictographs. Maps. Labyrinths. You see five, six, and eight-pointed stars. Animals. Circles containing squares. Other geometric figures. Numbers. Faces.

You turn back to the elevator. You look but you can’t find a place to insert the key. You try to pry the doors apart, but they won’t budge.

…Now, you feel as if you’ve been standing in that room for a very long time. You have memories of trying to decipher the drawings on the walls. You have memories of having almost succeeded, only to be stymied.

It seems you have a long history of having tried to decode secrets.

A man is standing next to you. He’s smiling. His face is familiar.

“I only encouraged you,” he says. “I’m no magician. I just gave you a little push. You supplied the conviction. That’s the main thing you have to understand.”

What does he mean?

A vague memory becomes sharper.

You were walking, a long time ago, in a museum. Yes.

And then you entered…something. And now you’re here.

Without thinking, you say, “There’s a rule against being bigger.”

He nods as if he understands perfectly.

“If I were to exit this place, this whole place,” you say, “I would be bigger. That’s not permitted. It’s a sign of…”

“Excessive pride,” he says.

“Yes,” you say.

“It indicates you’re trying to become ‘better than everyone else’. Which is a criminal offense.”

You think about his words. They spell out a rule, but who made the rule?

“Everybody who is here,” you say, “is smaller than they want to be?”

He smiles again. “That depends on what you mean by ‘want.’”

You repeat, “In this place, ‘bigger’ means ‘criminal.’ But who decided that?”

Then you realize you had a chain wrapped around your neck.

You reach up, and you can feel where the chain was. There is still an ache there.

The man is waiting. He’s looking at you.

“Why are you doing this?” you say.

“Doing what?”

He shakes his head.

He slowly fades out.

He was some kind of artifact. He was a construct that appeared out of your own voice and your own thoughts.

You made him.

You made him out of the scent of pines trees and the sound of water running through the forest and clouds and a desire whose substance you can’t quite fathom.

You sense you are betraying other people. That thought is made out of an old obsession to be like everyone else.

The obsession can become a life, a holy crusade.

But, you realize, it’s not your life or your crusade.

There is a soft explosion just behind your head.

You feel an impulse that is going to lift you off the floor.

And then…

You’re back in the museum.

You’re standing in front of the painting of the pine trees and the trail and the cabin and the fields and the mountains and the sky.

You’re trembling with relief.

A museum guard steps over to you.

“Are you all right, sir?” he says.

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, I’m fine.”

He nods.

You look into his eyes, and you see the small room just outside the elevator. That room is inside him.

“How about you?” you say.

His face flushes.

“Have a nice day,” he says.

“You, too.”

He starts to turn away, but then he doesn’t.

“Do you come to the museum often?” he says.

“I like the paintings,” you say. “I’m here several times a week. It’s a fine place.”

“Yes,” he says. “It is. I’ve wanted this job for a long time.”

“Why?”

“I’m protecting something important. I watch the people moving through the rooms and looking at the paintings. I watch them walk into the paintings…”

You nod.

He strolls away.

You continue to walk through the museum.

There are many paintings. Many entrances.

How many people are living inside those paintings? How many ever get out?

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29^th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

by Jon Rappoport

March 7, 2019

(To join our email list, click here.)

“Imagination can produce a level of well-being that is bulletproof, in the sense that, no matter what happens in life, there is a back-up, there is something that can be created beyond the current crisis…” (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)

“When I use the word ‘magic’, I mean everything that can spring from imagination. Not the silly little things. The big things. The launching of entirely new realities that outdistance what society is producing. And setting a limit on what the individual can imagine and create, and how far he can go, is very much like promoting the idea that every human is ill and should be a medical patient all his life. It’s sheer propaganda that seeks the lowest common denominator, as a sales gimmick. In the case of imagination, we’re talking about the future of civilization and human life on the planet—whether it rises or falls, whether the population finally accepts the notion that every person is a victim and there is no way out…” (Notes on Exit From The Matrix, Jon Rappoport)

In the human psyche, from the moment a newborn baby emerges into the light of day, he/she has a desire for magic.

We are told this is an early fetish that fades away as the experience of the world sets in. As maturity evolves. As practical reality is better understood.

In most areas of psychology, sensible adjustment to practical reality is a great prize to be won by the patient. It marks the passage from child to adult. It is hailed as a therapeutic triumph.

In truth, the desire for magic never goes away, and the longer it is buried, the greater the price a person pays.

A vaccine against a disease can mask the visible signs of that disease, but under the surface, the immune system may be carrying on a low-level chronic war against toxic elements of the vaccine. And the effects of the war can manifest in odd forms.

So it is with an inoculation of reality aimed at suppressing magic.

One of the byproducts of the “reality shot” is depression.

The person feels cut off from the very feeling and urge he once considered a hallmark of life. Therefore, chronic sadness. Of course, one explains that sadness in a variety of ways, none of which gets to the heart of the matter.

It is assumed that so-called primitive cultures placed magic front and center simply because “they couldn’t do better.” They didn’t have science, and they couldn’t formulate a “true and rational” religion with a church and monks and collection plate and a European choir and an array of pedophiles.

Historically, the impulse for magic had to be defamed and reduced and discredited. Why? Obviously, because the Westerners who were poking through ancient cultures had already discredited magic in themselves—they had put it on a dusty shelf in a room in a cellar beyond the reach of their own memory. But they couldn’t leave it alone. They had to keep worrying it, scratching it, and so they journeyed thousands of miles to find it somewhere else—and then they scoffed at it and tried to crush it.

And we wonder why, under the banner of organized religion, there has been so much killing. At a deep level, the adherents know they’ve sold their souls and they’re depressed, angry, resentful, remorseful, and they want to assuage and expiate their guilt through violence.

But the urge for magic is forever.

And yet the charade goes on. While paying homage and lip service to ordinary practical reality seasoned with a bit of fairy-tale organized religion, people actually want to change reality, they want to reveal their latent power, they want to create realities that, by conventional standards, are deemed impossible.

They want to find and use their own magic.

In our modern culture, we’re taught that everything is learned as a system. That, you could say, is the underlying assumption of education. It has far-reaching consequences. It leads to the systematizing of the mind. The mind is shaped to accommodate this premise.

“If I want to know something, I have to learn it. Somebody has to teach it to me. They will teach it as a system. I will learn the system. I will elevate the very notion of systems. Everything will be a system.”

In the long run, that gets you a lump of coal in a sock, a spiritual cardboard box to live in.

The intellectual enrolls at Harvard, he studies anthropology for six years, he flies to a jungle in South America, he digs up remnants of a lost culture, he infers they performed arcane ceremonies six times a week, he writes monographs—and he concludes they were a very picturesque society with fascinating customs and totems, and their brand of magic can best be understood as an inevitable consequence of their matriarchal organization, which itself was an accommodation to rainfall levels.

Back home, the anthropologist takes two Paxil and goes off to teach a class on the meaning of ancient eyebrow trimming in Tierra del Fuego.

Systems are wonderful things. They produce results. They take us into technological triumphs. They help us become more rational. But when they are overdone, when the mind itself becomes shaped like a system, it reaches a dead-end. Then the mind works against the unquenchable desire for magic. Then society is organized as a tighter and tighter system and turns into a madhouse.

And then people say, “Maybe machines can actually think and choose and decide. Maybe machines are alive. What would happen if we grafted computers on to our brains? It might be wonderful.”

People move in this direction after their own minds have been shaped, like putty, into systems. They don’t see much difference between themselves and machines.

The desire for magic in every individual is squelched. So the first order of business is the restoration of imagination, from which all magic flows. Imagination is sitting there, always ready, waiting.

Imagination is saying, “The mind has been shaped into a system? I can undo that. I can liberate the mind and make it into an adventurous vessel. I can provide untold amounts of new energy.”

Life is waiting for imagination to revolutionize it down to its core.

Since imagination is a wild card that technocrats can’t absorb in their systems, they pretend it a faculty produced by the action of atoms in the brain. They pretend it is a delusion that can be explained by demonstrating, for example, that a machine can turn out paintings. Or poems.

“You see? We don’t need humans to make art. Computers can do just as well. Imagination isn’t mysterious at all.”

Technocracy and transhumanism flow from the concept that the human being is just another machine. And any machine can be made to operate more efficiently.

Meanwhile, imagination waits. It never vanishes. It stands by, just in case an individual decides to live a life that overflows with creative power.

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

If my work in this area has any organized precedent, it is ancient Tibet where, 1500 years ago, before the priests took over with their interminable spiritual baggage of ritual, practitioners engaged in exercises that engaged imagination to the hilt.

This was not about ultimate worship. This was not about some deep substrate in the Universe that one could plug into, to guide his actions and thought. It was about liberating the individual from systems. It was about endless creation.

The first teachers of this Way came from India, where they had been pushed out of the academies of orthodox religious instruction. They were rebels. They had offloaded the metaphysical labyrinths of control. They were, in a sense, artists. Artists of reality.

They were brilliant riverboat gamblers, and in Tibet, for a time, they found a home.

They found students who, as now, were tired of the preaching designed to make humans into sophisticated mind-machines.

These people wanted more. They wanted to awaken their own imaginations and exceed the illusory boundaries of one space and one time.

They wanted magic.

Despite every cynical ploy, that desire is still alive.

Here are several quotes from an introduction to my collection, Exit From The Matrix:

“Magic as a natural outcome of imagination has NOTHING to do with secret societies and their criminal operations and rituals. These secret societies are bent on imposing masters-and-slaves as their ultimate structure. That’s all they have. That’s their limit.”

“Magic is, for example, the invention of new ideas. These ideas prompt the individual to make a sharp turn and invent his future in a way that is far closer to his heart’s desire.”

“To make a literary comparison, magic is more poetry and less prose. Magic makes consciousness more alive.”

“Magic, which is ultimately imagination, lets a person know he doesn’t have a particular place where he should be. That’s a piece of nonsense and deception. ‘You have your place.’ No. ‘The universe is telling you that you have a particular place.’ When you examine that statement closely, it turns out that someone is using an idea of ‘universe’ to impose a limit and a freeze…”

“The idea that magic is ultimately imagination makes no sense to people who already have a shrunken notion of imagination. They abandoned their imagination long ago, because they couldn’t find a consensus for it. They were looking in the wrong place. They should have been looking at artists.”

“Crazy artists. Yes. The people who find it quite natural to invent realities that aren’t already existing. The people who exercise that non-crazy impulse in every field of endeavor.”

“When a person begins to realize that the new realities he can invent are much larger and more far-reaching than he previously considered, he has dipped his foot in the ocean of magic.”

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29^th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

by Jon Rappoport

January 4, 2019

I’m not going to expose some hidden code. I’m not going to tear apart chunks of text and show you what’s behind the veil. That’s a misdirection.

You can find codes in War and Peace if you want to, or in labels that list all the ingredients in the weird junk kids buy at AM-PM stores on gas-station property.

Ready?

Here it is.

The Kabbalah is about…

The Kabbalah.

That’s the secret. That’s the real impetus behind it. That’s the driving force. That’s the headwind and the tailwind and the engine and the fuel.

That’s what it was always about.

Of course, most contributors to it never realized that. They were caught in the net of the themes, the threads, the topics, the arguments, the logic, the exegesis.

Think about it. If you’re going to write thousands of pages of something, and many people are going to author it together, for centuries, you need a broad compelling subject to bring them into the act. You want that net.

So the stated theme, the net that dragged in authors, was HOW DOES MAN APPROACH GOD. That was floated, and then authors were happy and they could write reams on that subject, and they did. They were motivated. They could bring a lot to the table.

The Kabbalah is about the Kabbalah, though, because the top men who started it had a closeted idea. It was what you’d call a meta-idea. They didn’t want to bring that idea out into the light, because if they had, everyone would have frowned and gone home before the text ever got off the ground. Everyone would have said, “Aw, that’s ridiculous! How can we take off on that? It’s too stark. It’s too simple. It’s too wide. It’s too permissive.”

These top few men who started the Kabbalah, as I said, had a secret meta-idea. Not the stated theme. Their secret idea was: YOU APPROACH GOD (or Ultimate), YOU GET CLOSER THROUGH…PROLIFERATION.

Proliferation of what?

Creation.

Human creation.

Creation, in particular, of more language, more poetry, more philosophy, more knowledge, more science, more learning…but most of all, through more language, new invented poetic metaphorical suggestive language.

If they could get many authors to jump in and write about the stated (not the real) theme, they would, in fact, over time, get more proliferation of language, more poetry. Yes. You see?

And that’s what happened.

It was a rather sensational strategy:

State a theme that will bring in many authors, who will then write for centuries, developing extensions of language as they do so…these authors will focus on how to approach The Ultimate—that will be their stated subject—but ACTUALLY, they will be carrying out (unconsciously) the real mission by proliferating language and poetry…because you can’t get close to Ultimate without making language stretch into metaphor…you can’t use mechanical language to move beyond a certain point down the road…

There is another reason why this is an interesting strategy. To move humanity (if it will ever be moved) into a truly new and much wider state of consciousness, you need art. But not just a piece here or a piece there, A FLOOD.

You need a flood (a vast proliferation) of art in all directions, so that the reality we accept as solid and restrictive and final (Smart and Final) becomes the loosely woven fabric it actually IS. With gaping holes. So what then comes to the fore is the creation of many many artists acting on their own. Millions and millions and millions of artists inventing new and powerful realities.

You NEVER need reduction and narrowing and bowing and scraping before the pillars of consensus reality. That’s a hoax. You NEVER need that. You need endless proliferation.

But you see, in modern times, there is a great emphasis on precision and tight asses. That’s the case. So there is a tendency to reduce and reduce and distill and forget that the royal highway is proliferation.

To remind one’s self of the real and greater energy, you might return to Walt Whitman and Melville and Dostoevsky and Henry Miller and Goya and early Stravinsky and Lenny Bruce and so on…

Really, the force behind Kabbalah wasn’t about walking up to the door and knocking on it and shaking hands with MR. ULTIMATE, it was about the thunderous expansion of metaphor, which is poetry, which is what meaning is when meaning shrugs off its shell of sheer literal mimicry of the physical world.

RISE OF THE EMPIRE OF IMAGINATION

The invention of worlds.

Entering into realms that had previously been hidden to you. The shapes of your experience widening and deepening.

Isn’t this, in fact, what people hope to gain from the study of arcane metaphysics and cosmology and “ancient mysteries?”

Except in this case, there is no external guide that directs your consciousness down specified roads and paths defined by “the wise ones.” All that baggage is gone. Gone, too, are the pretended principles of WHAT ULTIMATELY EXISTS.

The arrival of sweeping “earth changes,” the landing of visitors from space or other dimensions, gods, holy scriptures, channeled information, sacred geometry, cosmologies erected by priests and secret societies…all the objects and entities which people tend to treat as authorities and “permission-givers” and game-changers and wisdom sources…all those things no longer carry their former weight and gravitas…

Instead of sensing that some revelation is at hand, you’re inventing your own revelations, by the truckload.

You’re not crouched inside some space hoping for the arrow of truth to arrive, you’re outside that space inventing new universes.

You’re not waiting for The Big Green Light in the Sky to confirm what you’ve been led to believe is ultimate truth…you’re free.

In other words, you’re an artist.

TIBET

There’s a local church in my neighborhood that brings in Tibetan monks once a year to do a sand painting.

For a few days, the Monks use colored sands to create a very complex mandala on a table.

Then at the Easter service, the monks destroy the mandala. They always do that. That’s their gig. They make it over the course of a few days and then they whisk it away into dust.

An array of reasons is given to the congregation, to explain why the monks get rid of the sand painting after they’ve completed it.

One, they’re “transmuting” the painting. Two, they’re using the sand to create “healing.” Three, giving people small envelopes of sand, they’re “spreading the healing/creation.” Four, they’re illustrating the ineffable or transient nature of all things.

These are all New Age reasons. Superficial jive food for a modern entrained audience.

In the ancient Tibetan tradition, the creation of art (I’m boiling it down) had a purpose: to reveal that the universe is a product of mind. Period.

The universe, then, isn’t some final sacred entity, it’s a work of art…and if it can be vividly and deeply perceived as such, the adept (artist) can then spontaneously delete pieces of physical reality and/or insert pieces of his own invented reality into universe.

To really qualify as an adept/artist who understands all this, you also have to able to destroy (as in DESTROY) what you create. Not disperse it or turn it into some healing force or blow magic dust on a crowd with it. No.

A long time ago, the Tibetans clogged up their own technique of creative work with immense amounts of ceremonial baggage and ritual and “preparation.” You couldn’t go straight into practicing their creative techniques. You had to approach it from a long way off, and you had to endure all sorts of introductory strain before you walked through the door.

Then on top of that, coming into modern times, further New Age fluff was added to the mix, resulting in a ludicrous mess.

“Hey, man, give me some of that magic dust!”

Anyway, you see, DESTROYING isn’t a word you want to use nakedly, in polite company, to describe what’s happening to those sand paintings. It’s too stark for people. It’s too real. It’s too profound.

Destroying what you create means a few things: you know you can always create more; you have that bedrock confidence; you aren’t afraid that if you destroy what you created, you’ll suddenly find yourself in a great big vacuum; you’re perfectly willing to stop creating; you aren’t residing in some whimpering spaghetti of ideas and feelings about creation and destruction; you aren’t conning yourself with all that garbage; you aren’t totally relying on what you’ve created to feed back messages to you about what you should do in your life.

And destroying what you created also means you can enter into what the Tibetans call the Void, which, when you strip it of all superfluous nonsense, really is the place where you’re not creating anything.

And then you can start creating again.

Yes, the ancient Tibetans—before they obscured their own cosmic kick-ass philosophy—the most profound of Earth-bred cosmologies—were on to something. They weren’t messing around.

They were way ahead of the baloney modern so-called gurus have been cutting and turning out.

The monk sand painters at the local church on Sunday? I have no idea whether they know and remember all this. But they are a vague reminder of that wildness.

Whether anyone knows or cares, that’s what the sand painting and destruction are about.

It doesn’t need an audience at all. The audience is supposed to be doing the painting and the destroying, too.

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29^th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

by Jon Rappoport

December 26, 2018

There is an obsession to say that everything is made out of something.

Who knows where it started? With the Egyptian pyramid builders? The Sumerians?

In the modern era, the fervor has reached a high point.

Physicists, biologists, and chemists are relentless in their pursuit of consciousness as a function of the brain. It has to be the brain. All those synapses and neurons and chemicals…and underneath them, the atoms and the sub-atomic particles…somehow these tiny particles conspire to produce consciousness and awareness.

Yet these same scientists deny that a sub-atomic particle carries any trace of awareness. The particles flow. They obey laws. That’s all.

So the experts are painted into a corner. They then speculate: “Well, you see, the increased ability to process information, the complexity of structure—naturally, this implies consciousness.”

No it doesn’t.

A Ferrari is complex. So is the Empire State Building. So is the IBM’s best computer. And? Where is the consciousness?

You, sitting there right now, reading these words—you understand the words; you KNOW you’re reading them; you’re not just processing information. YOU ARE CONSCIOUS.

If a physicist wants to say that you, knowing you’re reading, are just a phenomenon of atoms in motion, let him try, let him explain. Let him do more than bloviate.

Imagine you were the chief of a CIA section called Consciousness Covert Ops. What would you try to do, given that your motive, as always, is control?

You would try to convince the population that consciousness isn’t free and wide-ranging and powerful and independent. You would try to narrow the popular belief about consciousness.

What better way than to focus on the brain as the seat of all awareness?

“The brain functions according to laws. We’re discovering more and more about those laws. We can determine when the brain is malfunctioning. We’re learning how to correct those malfunctions.”

Indeed.

You’re spinning narrative about the brain as if it were a car that has to visit the shop. That’s what you want. You want to make people believe their brains need fixes, because, after all, you come out of the long tradition of CIA MKULTRA mind control.

When the brain comes into the shop, you can try to reprogram it. You can experiment. You can apply the latest technology. You can attempt to insert controls. You can place monitors in the brain, in order to observe it in real time.

At a more basic, yes, philosophic level, you want to eliminate any sort of movement claiming that consciousness is separate from the brain. You want to snuff that idea out. It’s counter-productive, to say the least. It could give rise to a renaissance of an old outmoded notion called: freedom.

What could be more free, more independent, more unique, more creative than individual consciousness that has a non-material basis?

You want to do everything you can to equate consciousness with the brain and, thus, the modern idea of the computer. Yes, the computer. Perfect.

“Consciousness is a computer operating at a very high level.”

“All computers can be improved.”

“All computers can malfunction. They can be repaired.”

And then, the ultimate coup:

“Consciousness? A very old idea that, in light of the progress of technology, has no merit. It’s really information processing. The brain handles that. The brain is a computer. We’re learning how to build a better brain…”

You’re shifting the focus of the old 1950s MKULTRA program, which mainly involved drugs and hypnosis, to a new arena. You’re coming at the territory inside the skull from a number of angles. You’re the next generation of Brave New World.

And right across town, the Pentagon and its research branch, DARPA, is deeply involved in a number of allied research projects. For example, the cortical modem, a little piece of equipment that costs about $10.

The gist? Insert proteins into neurons, and then beam photons into those proteins, thus creating image displays that bypass the normal channels of perception.

Virtual reality with no headset. The project is still in its early stages, but the direction is clear: give the “user” an image display beyond his ability to choose.

It’s touted as an overlay. The person, walking down the street, can still see the street, but he can also see what you give him, what you insert into his visual cortex. Of course, as the technology advances, you could take things further: block out physical reality and immerse the person in the virtual.

DARPA’s enthusiasm about this project, as usual, exceeds its current grasp, but its determination to succeed is quite genuine. And the money is there.

Think about this. Which way is a bright college student going to go? He can study ancient philosophy, in the least popular department on campus. He can read the Vedanta, and plow through its explications of consciousness. Or he can study biology and physics, and then try to land an entry job with the Pentagon, where he can fiddle with the human brain for fun and profit. This student has been thoroughly immersed in computers since he could crawl. He understands what they do and how they work. He’s been taught, over and over, that the human brain (consciousness) is a computer. So what path will he take?

Over and above everything I’m pointing out in this article, there is a human capacity called imagination. It’s the wild card in the deck. It’s the greatest wild card ever known. It is, in fact, the cutting edge of consciousness. It invents new realities. It releases gigantic amounts of buried energy. And it’s entirely an individual proposition.

I built my second collection, Exit From The Matrix, on that basis: the liberation and expansion of imagination. Not just in theory, but in practice. There are dozens of imagination techniques to work with.

Brain=computer=consciousness is the greatest covert op on the planet. It’s supported with major money and labs and journals and armies of psychiatrists and neurological professionals and physicists and the military.

And the op is completely false, because, again, the very scientists who push it are saying the brain is composed of sub-atomic particles THAT CONTAIN ZERO CONSCIOUSNESS.

Think about that.

They’re saying consciousness arises out of particles that have no consciousness.

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29^th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free emails at NoMoreFakeNews.com or OutsideTheRealityMachine.

by Jon Rappoport

December 24, 2018

(To join our email list, click here.)

“The individual sees how a machine is put together. He sees the pieces and the systems. Because he is creative, he doesn’t stop there. He doesn’t automatically believe in the machine and accept it as the final THING. He can invent a better machine—or no machine at all. He has the latent power to go outside the machine and invent in a different way. He can CREATE HIS OWN WORLD. It isn’t a bubble that separates him from the commonly shared world. It is inserted into the common world. It is built on different ideas. He is alive, his creative force is alive, and so what he builds will be alive, too. This is a kind of natural magic. A magic that is inherent in him. It surpasses the ordinary strictures of society. Am I talking about imagination? Absolutely. This is where it starts. This is where the new path originates. This is the dream and the vision. In my collection, Exit From The Matrix, I include a large set of imagination exercises that are designed to liberate that far-reaching quality of the individual. Does the quality have a limit? No. It isn’t a machine or a robot or a computer. It isn’t programmed. And that’s the whole point. The limitless nature of imagination wakes up the individual. He wakes up to infinity.” (Notes on Exit From The Matrix, Jon Rappoport)

Trumpets blare. In the night sky, spotlights roam. A great confusion of smoke and dust and fog, and emerging banners, carries the single message:

WE.

The great meltdown of all consciousness into a glob of utopian simplicity…

There are denizens among us.

They present themselves as the Normals.

Beyond all political objectives, there is a simple fact: those group-mind addicts who have given up their souls will rage against the faintest appearance of one who tries to keep his. And in this rage, the soulless ones will try to pull the other down to where they live.

And somehow, it all looks normal and proper and rational.

In the 1950s, before television had numbed minds and turned them into jelly, there was a growing sense of: the Individual versus the Corporate State.

Something needed to be done. People were fitting into slots. They were surrendering their lives in increasing numbers. They were carving away their own idiosyncrasies and their independent ideas.

But television, under the control of psyops experts, became, as the 1950s droned on, the facile barrel of a weapon:

“What’s important is the group. Conform. Give in. Bathe in the great belonging…”

Recognize that every message television imparts is a proxy, a fabrication, a simulacrum, an imitation of life one step removed.

When this medium also broadcasts words and images of belonging and the need to belong, it’s engaged in revolutionary social engineering.

Whether it’s the happy-happy suburban-lawn family in an ad for the wonders of a toxic pesticide, or the mob family going to the mattresses to fend off a rival, it’s fantasy time in the land of mind control.

Television has carried its mission forward. The consciousness of the Individual versus the State has turned into: love the State. Love the State as family.

In the only study I have been able to find, Wictionary partially surveys the scripts of all television shows from the year 2006, to analyze the words most frequently broadcast to viewers in America.

Out of 29,713,800 words, including the massively used “a,” “an,” “the,” “you,” “me,” and the like, the word “home” ranks 179 from the top. “Mom” is 218. “Together” is 222. “Family” is 250.

This usage reflects an unending psyop.

Are you with the family or not? Are you with the group, the collective, or not? Those are the blunt parameters.

“When you get right down to it, all you have is family.” “Our team is really a family.” “You’re deserting the family.” “You fight for the guy next to you.” “Our department is like a family.” “Here at Corporation X, we’re a family.”

The committee, the group, the company, the sector, the planet.

The goal? Submerge the individual.

Individual achievement, imagination, creative power? Not on the agenda. Something for the dustbin of history.

Aldous Huxley, Brave New World: “‘Ninety-six identical twins working ninety-six identical machines’! The voice was almost tremulous with enthusiasm. ‘You really know where you are. For the first time in history.’”

George Orwell, 1984: “The two aims of the Party are to conquer the whole surface of the earth and to extinguish once and for all the possibility of independent thought.”

The soap opera is the apotheosis of television. The long-running characters in Anytown are irreversibly enmeshed in one another’s lives. There’s no escape. There is only mind-numbing meddling.

“I’m just trying to help you realize we all love you (in chains).”

“Your father, rest his soul, would never have wanted you to do this to yourself…”

“How dare you set yourself apart from us. Who do you think you are?”

For some people, the collective “WE” has a fragrant scent—until they get down in the trenches with it. There they discover odd odors and postures and mutations. There they discover self-distorted creatures scurrying around celebrating their twistedness.

The night becomes long. The ideals melt. The level of intelligence required to inhabit this cave-like realm is lower than expected, much lower.

Hypnotic perceptions, which are the glue that holds the territory together, begin to crack and fall apart, and all that is left is a grim determination to see things through.

As the night moves into its latter stages, some participants come to know that all their activity is taking place in a chimerical universe.

It is as if reality has been constructed to yield up gibberish.

Whose idea was it to become deaf, dumb, and blind in the first place?

And then perhaps one person in the cave suddenly says: I EXIST.

That starts a cacophony of howling.

In the aftermath of the 1963 assassination of JFK and the 1995 bombing of the Federal Building in Oklahoma City, the covert theme was the same: a lone individual did this.

A lone individual, detached from the group, did this. “Lone individuals are people who left the fold. They wandered from the communal hearth. Therefore, they inevitably became killers.”

In 1995, after the Oklahoma City Bombing, President Bill Clinton made a speech to the nation. He rescued his presidency by essentially saying, “Come home to the government. We will protect you and save you.”

He framed the crime in those terms. The individual versus the collective.

The history of human struggle on this planet is about the individual emerging FROM the group, from the tribe, from the clan. The history of struggle is not about the individual surrendering and going back INTO group identity.

Going back is the psyop.

The intended psyop.

As the trumpets blare in the night sky, as the fog-ridden spotlights roam, as the banners emerge carrying the single message, WE, as people below are magnetically drawn to this show, a unpredicted thing happens:

Someone shouts: WHAT IS WE?

Other pick up the shout.

And the banners begin to catch fire and melt. They drip steel and wax and the false grinding of hypnotic dreams breaks its rhythm.

The whole sky-scene stutters like a great weapon losing its capacity to contain heat. The sky itself drips and caves inward and collapses, and the trumpets tail off and there is a new fresh silence.

The delusion, in pieces, is drifting away…

The cover: gone.

Behind it is The Individual.

What will he do now?

Will he seek to find his inherent power, the power he cast aside in his eagerness to join the collective?

Will he?

Or will he search for another staged melodrama designed to absorb him in an all-embracing WE?

Will he understand he has the power to create a new far-reaching reality of his own choosing, or will he, once again, submit to the idea that reality must be concocted by the Group?

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29^th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.