THE REALITY SALESMAN CALLS

by Jon Rappoport

SEPTEMBER 24, 2011. Step right up, folks. This is a deal you can’t afford to miss. You know that thing you cling to like a drowning man in a turbulent sea?

It’s called reality, and I represent the company that manufactures it. I’m proud to say I’ve held this job for over a hundred thousand years. So as far as product knowledge is concerned, you just aren’t going to find anybody like me.

Some folks believe reality is rocks and trees and desert and sun and rain, and the brick and concrete and steel and glass of buildings, the mountain ranges, the sky, the moon and the stars. They believe reality is a house and all the things in it, and the mementos you hold on to, like photos and dolls and so on, to remind you of the past. And cars and streets.

But I’m really selling…guess what? A little thing called perception. It sounds odd, but that’s what it is.

How you see things, and what you think about what you see.

Because to tell you the truth, no matter what time period you live in, whether you live on Earth or another planet, it all comes down to that. How you see what’s in front of you.

And believe it or not, perception comes in different forms. My company makes the perception that endures. It’s the package you’re living with right now. It’s the down-to-earth here-it-is straight-ahead common-sense type. We call it: IT IS WHAT IT IS. That’s trademarked, by the way. ISWIS. It is what it is.

ISWIS was invented by a very smart guy whose name has been long forgotten. He was a genius, and he realized something great. People would go for ISWIS because it would lock them in.

Do you see? People didn’t want a wobbling here-and-there kind of perception. Who wants to wake up on a Tuesday morning and suddenly see life in a completely different way? Who wants that kind of shock to the system?

We have a famous statement here at the office. A TABLE IS A TABLE AND CHAIR IS A CHAIR. It sums up our whole attitude. If you bump your toe on the leg of a table, you feel it. Your toe doesn’t go through it, for God sakes. It’s a table. If it weighs thirty pounds on Monday, it weighs thirty pounds on Tuesday. It looks the same day after day. You can count on it. And that’s a function of how you see it.

I’m just giving you the straight story. You could buy a package that would give you a whole different table. In which case, your toe might pass right through that sucker—and then where would you be? I’ll tell you. You’d be one confused puppy. You don’t want to see a table that way, do you? Of course not. You don’t want to THINK something and have the table jump up off the carpet and hover in the air, do you?

Well, ISWIS takes care of all that for you. That’s why it’s the most popular perception package in the universe, bar none. Reliability. Consistency.

All those centuries and epochs ago, when I was a rookie training for this job, the guys let me try on a whole bunch of different perception packages, so I could see what I was up against, as far as our competitors went. I saw things I wouldn’t want to describe to you. Horrible things. And finally, when I was given ISWIS, our product, I felt like I was home.

I know. You’re asking, “Well, how were you seeing before you went into training for the company? What package were you sporting then?” That, my friends, is another whole story I might tell you another time. Right now, I’m focusing on ISWIS, because it’s my job and because I’m so proud of my track record. Justifiably so.

Anyway, ISWIS gives you the kind of stability you can count on for your whole life. And, believe me, that’s no small feat. We’ve built slow decay (SD) into the package, so things gradually deteriorate and give you a sense of even more consistency—because, think about it, do you really want that tree in your back yard to stay at one stage of growth forever? Do you? It might seem like a nice idea, but it would screw up the need for replacement, and then you’d get into the whole conundrum of THE BODY, too, and how long it should last. People like to think they want physical immortality, but if you give it to them (via some other package), they go crazy after a while. Because their problems, as well as their triumphs, never go away. I could show you a little planet where the inhabitants went for one of our competitor’s products. The suicide rate is over seventy percent! The place is a nuthouse!

ISWIS is time-tested. It’s as solid as solid can be made. It doesn’t break down.

But it does need boosters from time to time, and that’s why I’m here today talking to you.

Every twenty thousand years, we institute a planet-wide upgrade, just to make sure nothing breaks down. And you’re all due.

Now, you could refuse, in which case you take full responsibility for what happens, or you could do the right thing and just re-up. I have to tell you, our re-up rate is 99.859 percent. I’m proud of that figure.

By the way, the leftovers, the holdouts, the deniers, the self-styled rebels? The governments of your planet keep track of you. I feel obligated to let you know that. They assume they need to. Worse comes to worst, and your ISWIS breaks down, you’re going to fail to fit in. Most definitely you’re going to experience some things other people just won’t understand. You’re going to feel you’re in the outer darkness—and then who knows what you’ll do? So to preempt that, your governments will hunt you down and lock you up, or worse.

That’s not my doing, because I believe in the free market, but it’s part of my service to clue you into the whole picture.

But here is the good part. You can get your booster now, during our pre-op special, by simply signing for it and taking the pledge, and paying a mere sixty percent of of your annual income for the rest of your lives. Which when you think about it, is nothing for what you’re getting. Again, reliability, and consistency.

The pledge, which involves a few details concerning IMAGINATION, is for your own protection—because if you take imagination too far (and who knows how far that is, until it’s too late), you’ll set up what we call an interference field, which means that ISWIS will tend to malfunction. You don’t want that.

But you DO want a reason, a good reason to stick with ISWIS all the way. That’s just human psychology. You see things the way you do, because of our package, and therefore reality is what it is and nothing else—and you want to feel good about that. So you need a reason, a story, a good story that convinces you you’re doing the right thing. We know that from our market research, our profiling.

Well, the pledge IS your reason and your story. You take an oath, and then you hold your imagination in check. That’s exactly what you pledge to do.

We take the pledge very seriously, and to make sure you do, too, we have a little kicker. If you begin to imagine and invent and create beyond a certain degree of intensity (which is something we can track), we make a house call.

You don’t want to experience a house call. Some very bad things can happen during the course of one of those. I’ve been there, trust me.

And finally, I know some of you hearing me talk today are wondering whether I’m giving you the straight scoop or whether everything I’m telling you is just one big lie. I know that. I’ve been around.

You’re listening to me and you’re thinking, “This guy could be just another salesman. He could be conning me.”

Yeah, I’m used to that. But you see, I’ve got an ace in the hole. So it doesn’t matter to me whether you believe me or not. You want to know what my ace is?

You people, with a few exceptions, are always looking for something scary to explain why you’re not all you could be. Understand? You’re always searching and rooting around for something to blame your “situation” on. You want that. You always want to fall back on it. It’s your Plan B. You’re not all you can be because some “negative thing” keeps popping up and putting its hand around your throat. You love that. You really do. You’re into it. And, well, I’m that guy. I’m the scary guy who just walked through the door. So you’ll end up buying my sales pitch, whether you like it or not, because you need your excuse. You need it like a junkie needs his drug. Therefore, I’m not worried. I’m not worried a bit. You want me. You need me. I’m the boogie man. I’m the guy you can invoke, like some kind of religious figure, when you need to.

You can say, “I want to take my imagination out to an infinite degree, but I’m not going to do it, because bad things could happen, and because I need the salesman, he’s my life raft, and I also need ISWIS so I can keep seeing reality just like I’m seeing it now.”

I’ve got you.

You and your excuses.

The truth is—there is no ISWIS, and I’m not a salesman, and nothing bad will happen to you if you use your imagination infinitely, and if you do, you’ll eventually see that universe and reality are simply a product of mind and you’ll be able to change them, and you’ll do magic.

But how many of you want to give up your fall-back position and your addiction to explaining things by invoking scary forces?

Yeah. That’s what I thought. So you see, I can sell you ISWIS even though it doesn’t exist, and I can collect my commission on and on and on, even though I’m not a salesman. And you’ll buy it.

So here’s the contract and the pledge, and they’re completely phony, and sign on the dotted line, and pay the fee, and we’re done.

Thank you very much.

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

BREAKING RULES OF ORDINARY REALITY

THE FIRST SESSION OF THE MAGIC THEATER IS SCHEDULED

SEPTEMBER 23, 2011. Rules of ordinary reality—rule one: what a person can imagine, he accepts; what he can’t imagine, he calls crazy.

You say to him, “Last night, I went and saw a play where the main character is a grasshopper who’s the head of the New York mafia.”

He’s likely to say: “That’s insane.”

But privately, later on, perhaps he chews on that a little. “You know, it might be funny to see a grasshopper playing a gangster.”

So he goes to the theater, secretly, a week later, and to his amazement—fear drenching his body—he hears his name. The director walks out on stage before the performance and says, “Mr. Jones, come up here. You’re playing the grasshopper tonight.”

Jones knows he’s going to die. In the next few seconds, he’s going to

fold up and collapse in the aisle and breathe his last breath.

And all because he can’t imagine playing a grasshopper.

That’s how tight ordinary reality can get for some people.

And they convince themselves that, even on the off-chance experience exists beyond their own imagination, it would do no one any good to think about it.

It would be irrelevant. It would be a meaningless waste of time. It would improve nothing.

In working Magic Theater dialogue with a private client, I asked him what he thought of the astral plane.

“I’ve heard about it and read about it,” he said. “But I don’t believe in it.”

So then I asked him whether he could pretend he believed in it, in order to play a role that was centered in an astral locale.

“Why should I want to do that?” he said. “What difference would it make?”

“It has to a be a real role to make any difference?”

“Of course,” he said.

After some conversation, he agreed to try to do the role, which was: The King of Astral Locale 1. The king was in charge of putting on celebrations—which in that place were continuous. (I made up the role.)

Well, after an hour or so of dialogue, in which I played the client and he played the King, the effect became explosive. His whole “affect,” as psychologists like to call it, changed. He became much more expressive. He looked like he had just escaped from a prison and was seeing sunlight for the first time in years.

A month later, he told me his life had changed during that hour of Magic Theater. He indicated he’d previously believed his existence was a straight line, and now he was seeing all manner of things he’d missed along the way. “For a little while, every day,” he said, “I’m happy. I haven’t felt really happy since I was thirteen.”

Yet, of course, he still didn’t believe in the astral plane. But who cares? That wasn’t the point. I didn’t need to believe in it, either. The point was to get him to play the role. To move him beyond the steel wall he’d put across his imagination.

This is something it’s hard to show some people. You can take on a role and speak from that role—and the role can be seemingly absurd. But when you speak from it, walls come down. Boundaries dissolve. Even though it’s all sheer invention and improvisation.

On the surface, it might seem the whole effect is achieved because the person “gets outside himself.” That’s just the beginning, though. There is much more to it than that. New energies are invented. New space is invented. New emotions or dormant emotions are tapped into. The ironclad conviction that reality consists of ABC and not DEF is snapped in half.

I had a client who was a working actor. We had sessions on the phone every week. When it came time to do Magic Theater, he assured me he’d played every conceivable role in small theater and in acting classes. He was already a pro at improvisation.

So I started him off with the role of “dissatisfied actor who talks to God in the afterlife,” and I played God. We did that dialogue, and then we switched parts. I was the dissatisfied actor and he was God. That opened up things.

In our next session, I asked him which parent of his he’d rather not see for lunch. His mother, he told me. The very prosiac role of mother. So that’s who I played, and he played himself. And then we switched. That opened up things more. He was feeling better.

The third week, I told him he was going to play “an actor who’s now 80 years old and has been through it all and seen it all, and is encased in a coat of shellac and pickled in years of booze.” And I would be “the freest man in the universe.” That dialogue went on for quite a while, during which he tried to dissuade me from my freedom. He tried every tactic he could think of. And when we switched, the role of “freest man in the universe” was his, and I was the 80-year-old cynical actor. He broke through. It took him a while. He cooked up one situation after another in which he was totally liberated from all earthly concerns. He became the god Mercury and Krishna and Buddha and a space trader in his own ship and all sorts of other personae. I can’t imagine he ever enjoyed playing a role as much as this one. He was quite fantastic.

At the end, he just said, “This was the one I’ve been waiting to play all my life, and I didn’t know it.”

And that was his launching pad into a new future.

It hadn’t been easy, but it was a hell of a lot easier than going downhill for years and years as a disillusioned actor.

It sit here and watch some of the clips from the UN, where the issue of Palestinian statehood is being argued, and I think about how these pathetic, conniving, sold-out, sad little tragicomic politicians are playing their parts—and what would happen if they could bring themselves to play EACH OTHER, to take on those roles and improvise them, hour after hour in the chamber. I think about how much laughter would eventually break out and how, against their better judgment, they would all eventually pass the point of no return and realize what a hoax they’d been perpetrating, how much life they’ve been hiding under wraps for the sake of attaining and keeping their precious positions. I think about what other far more adventurous parts they could then go on to play in the Magic Theater—and how desperately they really want to play those parts, underneath it all.

“Let me! Let me! Let me be the grasshopper who runs the mafia in New York! Let me be the King of Astral Locale 1. Let me be the freest man in the universe! Let me be God! Let me be that moron, the mayor of New York! Oh Yes! Let me be an 80-year-old actor who’s addled by booze! Let me be the sap rising through spring trees in Central Park! Let me be a beggar on a planet a billion light years from Earth! Let me be anything other than what I am!”

For all the world to see. Finally.

This was the dream and the agenda of JL Moreno, the genius of the 20^th century, who invented Psychodrama; and the Magic Theater is the extension of that into Roles Unlimited, imagination unlimited, improvisation unlimited.

And you can think about this: What if the hard inflexible rules of the physical universe itself, as they are understood and worshiped, are as inflexible as they are BECAUSE they are locked together with the inflexible roles we play?

What if this giant room called universe and all the bottom-line objects in it seem to be so FINAL and unyielding, because the roles we stick to, in the stage play called life, also seem so final?

What if, eventually, we can discover—FROM EXPERIENCE in the Magic Theater—that universe is a product of mind and we can deal with it DIRECTLY on that basis?

The first workshop of the Magic Theater will take place in San Diego on December 10. If you are interested in coming, email me at qjrconsulting@gmail.com, and I will supply details.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsultng@gmail.com

WORLDS IN THE MATRIX

SEPTEMBER 21, 2011. I want to give my readers advance notice that I’m preparing a new huge (and I mean huge) product for launch within the next month. The final title has not yet been chosen, so the tentative name is The Matrix Project.

Details will follow soon. Stay tuned.

In the Matrix, we find worlds (systems) within worlds. This is a main feature of Matrix complexity, or labyrinth. Each world, or “painting,” is a whole, and then each world upholds other such worlds.

In the Matrix, there is an operating principle that overshadows all other principles: once controllers choose a key fact, a key piece of information, they then organize other facts that fall into dimensional perspective relative to their central theme.

As an analogy, consider the strategy of realistic painters. They choose their main subject, the person or object they want to feature on the canvas, and then they arrange perspective so that all other persons and objects take their sizes and positions relative to that main character.

This accomplishes something major: it bolsters the feeling that the main character is, indeed, important—because everything else lines up in relation to it.

And of course, we normally perceive reality in the same way. If you’re walking down the street to an appointment in an office building, and you can see the building ahead in the next block, it becomes the main event of the moment, and you see other objects and people on the street as organized around it.

It’s neat, simple, workable.

But what happens when some “architect’s” main character or premise or theme or fact is intentionally false to begin with? What happens then?

You have a consensus around a vacuum.

Although I didn’t quite see it that way, in 1988, when I published my first book, AIDS INC., I see it quite clearly now.

The central factoid in the whole AIDS saga is, of course, HIV.

Once that is asserted as the cause of AIDS, large numbers of experts begin to flesh out the rest of the landscape, setting perspective and dimension and size and position of objects RELATIVE TO HIV.

Which naturally becomes quite convincing, because whenever you place a fact (true or not) in the primary position, position number 1, and then arrange all other facts to shore up number1, you give the impression that you are right and correct. The overall picture yields that conclusion.

All the sub-information streaming from the smaller satellite facts feeds into the number 1 fact, and as a whole, the entire “painting,” the entire structure is MUTUALLY SUPPORTIVE.

This is a powerful effect. No matter where you plug into the structure, the world, the painting, you will find yourself traveling to the central fact, and you will also find yourself traveling to all the subsidiary facts. Everything connects to everything. It’s very convincing.

Some of the most enjoyable crime novels are those in which the case appears to be closed—the primary suspect is put on trial because all available facts and evidence point directly to him. And then the hero comes along and deconstructs the evidence and shows that the picture was false and the real criminal “is still out there.” These stories are enjoyable because they tap into our suspicion that Matrix constructions are clever lies.

But they are much more than clever lies.

Take this example from AIDS INC: In 1985, scientists adopted a new view of antibodies. Up until that time, the body’s production of antibodies “against a particular germ” was generally taken as a good sign. It meant the immune system was working properly and warding off the germ. But suddenly, antibodies against HIV were said to signify desperate trouble for the patient: the patient was very ill, or would become very ill.

In fact, this was the whole reason given for using a test for antibodies as a way of diagnosing pre-AIDS or AIDS.

Why this sudden shift in how antibodies were interpreted?

Well, it took me a while to figure it out, but it was really quite simple. There was a PRIOR assumption that HIV was a lethal virus, and therefore any contact with it signaled probable death. Well, antibodies revealed that, in fact, the patient HAD contacted HIV. Therefore, grave consequences.

So now there were several “facts” contributing to an overall “painting” of AIDS: HIV, the killer germ; antibodies against HIV, indicating that the person had contacted HIV; and the inference that, without successful treatment, the patient would die.

Each “fact” supported each other fact. Each “fact” fed into each other fact. Each “rock in the stream” was washed by the same water.

This is enough to convince most people of truth. This is all it takes.

“Well, wherever I look, I see further confirmation that the number 1 fact is true. All signs point to it. All roads lead to Rome.”

Okay. Go into a shoe store and take one of the salesmen to lunch. Pay him a nice fee for cooperation, go with him to a costume store, rent a minister’s robe, rent out a church for a few hours, pay people on the street to come in and sit in the pews, hire an organist to play some doleful hymn—and then bring in a few folks from a Salvation Army office. Sit them down.

They will assume the shoe salesman is a minister. All facts point to it. The chapel, the music, the congregation, the podium, the robe he’s wearing, his position as the number 1 fact, right up there on the stage, the focus of every person in the room. What’s to doubt? What’s to question? The man has a congregation, which exists in relation to him.

When I was writing AIDS INC., I began to wonder, finally, how scientists had proved HIV caused AIDS. I broke the spell. I questioned the central theme, the number 1 fact. But this was months after intensive research. It took me that long to peer around the whole structure, to throw off the convincing nature of the entire, mutually-feeding world. Everywhere I had looked, all roads led to HIV. All sub-facts propped up the number 1 fact. And the organization of all those sub-facts—their size and position—relative to the number 1 fact, was fairly tight. At least I thought so.

And then somebody whispered in my ear: “Question the number 1 fact.”

When I did, I found holes. Gaping holes. The world of AIDS had been spun as a clever illusion around NON-FACT number 1. That’s what AIDS INC. turned into—my investigation of the holes.

The more I investigated, the more shoddy and cheesy that world became. Whereas, at first, it appeared very polished, I began to see it as a series of cheap infomercial ads promoted by a guy with a phony deep baritone.

In those days a reporter could get to actual scientists, rather than PR flacks—and I discovered that these scientists were also front men. They were winging it at every turn, covering for themselves and their colleagues with bizarre statements that made no sense.

The capper on the whole phony world was: if HIV had never been proved to cause AIDS, if the number 1 fact was not a fact at all, then what did the word “AIDS” mean? What the did the TITLE, THE NAME OF THAT WORLD signify?

And the answer was: nothing.

Yes, people were dying. But from what? Were they all dying from the same cause? Was that a justifiable assertion? Again, the answer was: no.

In other words, people who were dying had been ORGANIZED, from an ivory tower, as identical factoids, in a perspective that seemed to point to HIV, but didn’t.

I offered MUCH detail on all this in the book.

Subjectively speaking, although I didn’t use the word Matrix at the time, I felt I was emerging out of a fog of acceptance of something that was representative of, well, a whole STYLE of architecture. Reality architecture. As in, this is how you design reality. This is how you create a world within a world. This is how you organize and distribute and position a vast array of “facts,” in order to fabricate a sphere—a sphere inside which you can place billions of people, billions of minds.

It was, to say the least, a jolt. On several counts.

Many, many people who were ill (and not ill) were being led to the slaughter, because after an HIV diagnosis, they were being fed an extraordinarily toxic drug, AZT, which prevented cells of the body from replicating. AZT was, in fact, a failed chemo drug.

Scientists of the highest reputation, at the highest levels of the research establishment were, consciously and unconsciously, aiding and abetting this program.

Media stalwarts were climbing on this bandwagon without registering a single doubt.

At the same time, I felt a fiery invigoration, because I had waded through miles of interconnecting roads in this AIDS world and emerged from them, armed with the knowledge about how you build a considerable section of Matrix, and I knew this would be important and it would stand me in good stead from that moment on. I knew I would get the word out, and other people (no matter how many or how few) would begin to see THE REAL AIDS STORY. And if they could make inferences from that, they would also know how other worlds within worlds were built, to confine and deceive and confuse and obfuscate and cause great harm.

It was then that some of my old connections as a reporter began to make a new kind of sense—there were people, insiders, I had interviewed off the record, who were trying to tell me, essentially, about Matrix techniques and strategies…only I hadn’t truly appreciated it. I could go back to them now and re-interview them and add to the knowledge I had absorbed from writing and researching AIDS INC. So I did go back to them. I did interview them.

Two years after AIDS INC was published, my friend and colleague, hypnotherapist Jack True, met me for supper at a cafe in Santa Monica. We talked about the book, and then later that night, we sat down for one of of many interviews I did with him.

He didn’t waste any time. He jumped in with this:

“It’s time you grab the whole story by the throat. Whether or you know it or not, you realized, from the beginning, that your investigation of AIDS was going to turn out to be a breakthrough. But you need to go further. EVERYTHING in the world partakes of that same aspect. It’s all BACKWARDS REALITY. You’ve had telepathic experiences. Lots of them. What do you think they mean? Reality is constructed to minimize and dampen the paranormal. It’s a foreshortened perspective of what actually exists, within us. It’s the same kind of cover story [as AIDS], with different items in it. It’s built the same way. It’s ARCHITECTURE. A stunted form of architecture, posing as THE ONE AND ONLY. Get with it. You know this. Push it. You’ve just gotten off the launching pad. Don’t stop.”

So I didn’t stop.

More coming…

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

DOES HIV EXIST? RADIO ALERT!

SEPTEMBER 21, 2011. Okay, folks, I’m getting this one out to you in a hurry, because a radio show on this subject airs in less than 3 hours. I’ll give you the URLs for the show today and the archive.

The radio host is my friend, Robert Scott Bell, whom I’ve worked with many times over the years. Today, he’ll explore Brent Leung’s new film, THE EMPEROR’S NEW VIRUS, which takes up the question: DOES HIV EXIST?

Don’t miss it. After I wrote AIDS INC., in 1988, which was the first book to reject the idea that HIV caused AIDS, I saw that the next big question was: did they ever isolate HIV in the first place? Did they ever find it? Is it a real virus? Others took up that question and debates moved along, and still move along.

Well, today’s show will begin to attack that question directly with interviews and commentary.

To listen live, today, Sept. 21, at noon EDT:

http://www.naturalnewsradio.com/

To pick up the show in the archive:

http://www.naturalnewsradio.com/Archive-RobertScottBell.asp

As you’ll understand, as you listen, this issue spreads out into the whole question of the reliability and validity of various medical diagnostic tests.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

SHORT-CUT DESIRE

SEPTEMBER 20, 2011. People look for what they desire, they fasten on to something, they pursue it, and then they express disappointment somewhere along the line. They tend to attribute their regret to a lack of strategy or follow-through, but that’s not it. Not really.

The problem came right at the beginning. The desire they picked out of a hat was superficial, it didn’t engage them at a deep enough level.

But going to the necessary level seems to have its own problems.

“Suppose what I find there is too formidable? Suppose I can’t make it work? Suppose other people will think I’m weird?” Suppose, suppose, suppose.

Well, what did you think life was? Picking a better shade of nail polish? Buying a slightly more attractive doily than the last doily? Watering the lawn with a hose that has a wider spray? Seeing a movie in 3-D rather than 2-D? Replacing the picture of a saint on your mantle with a larger picture of the saint?

Exhaustion and burn-out occur when you’re pursuing a desire you don’t really want.

Modern society mainly consists of finding activities that nudge adrenaline, after burnout has already occurred.

Faced with all this, many people decide desire itself is a misdirection. Instead, they should be rising above all desire, or they should spend all their time tending to the needs of others.

I’m not demeaning helping others. But suppose this is the real formulation: “I’ve given up on myself, so the only thing left is to assist everyone else.” How does that sound? Or how about this: “I can’t summon up energy for my own life, so I’ll find energy in the struggles of others.”

In case it isn’t obvious, there has never been a time when the struggles of others weren’t a crisis. It isn’t just today. And giving aid and assistance is a good thing. But when it becomes a substitute for self, and when somebody gets the idea he needs to reduce himself to zero in order to be of service, that’s a different story.

What I’m talking about is stagnation of self. Things appear pretty much the same every day. It doesn’t look like there is a way out. But what’s actually happening is this: the person has built up many layers of cotton between himself and what he really wants.

And woven into those layers are all sorts of reasons why, even if he did discover what he truly wants, he can’t move forward and get it.

Several years ago, I ran into an old friend I hadn’t seen in 30 years. The last time I knew him, he was a musician and a very good one. He’d taken up an instrument one day, when he was thirteen, and in a few months he’d made remarkable progress. He was very talented and very smart. Well, in the interim, from what I could gather, he’d been through three or four careers—none of them particularly rewarding. And now he was a blank. He’d gone down some “spiritual path,” and it was an energy drain.

There he was. Taking on one lesser desire after another.

All present realities are shams, in the sense that what has yet to be discovered and created is far more galvanizing than what already exists.

If you’re going to pick a struggle, let it begin with finding something you REALLY desire.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

The nomorefakenews September fund drive continues. To make a donation, go to PayPal.com, click on the send money button, enter qjrconsulting@gmail.com, and contribute. Thank you.

WHAT YOU WANT

SEPTEMBER 20, 2011. What you want is an adventure, the far dimensions of which only you know—and you also know that by the time you approach them they’ll no longer be dimensions or boundaries, but instead only more raw fuel for the fire.

Pedestrian goals are merely the ticking of the clock, a way to pass hours until the real action begins.

When you find a few others who want to go on your ride, don’t compromise by stepping it down.

What you really want requires you to produce energy. And when you do, you discover there is no limit on how much you can create. This is a revelation.

One of the biggest sticking points is: how many people will be able to understand what you’re doing, what you’re inventing, what you’re pursuing?

Often, this is the locus around which people stall. They decide to dilute their goal so that it’s accessible to more people.

I understand the reasons for doing that, but take a look at people who have engaged in this watering-down process over a long period of time, and you’ll find they tend to look exhausted. They’re always putting brakes on themselves. They’re plundering their own treasure for the sake of others. They’re intentionally limiting their own energy output.

If you imagine many, many, many people doing this, you pretty much have the definition of society. Of course, the problems of society aren’t traced to this limitation-exercise; all sorts of other stories are cooked up to explain why societies run into trouble. But they’re pieces of bad fiction.

In the latter stages of a civilization, the majority of effort/resource is focused on “helping those who can’t help themselves.” In other words, the civilization is way past grappling with the question of the individual pursuing his greatest adventure. That prospect has long been forgotten. The individual creation and production of energy has long been forgotten.

So the task falls to the individual himself. Where it always was.

The rabid collectivist revolutionaries of the early 20^th century have spawned smarter descendants who have kinder, gentler strategies. The drip method. Gradually reduce everyone to victim status. Mythologize that covert op as spiritual beneficence of the highest order. Anoint those leaders who pave the way as saints and prophets.

It works, but it doesn’t touch what the individual really wants.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

CAN’T HAPPEN, DIDN’T HAPPEN, WILL HAPPEN

SEPTEMBER 19, 2011. The nomorefakenews September fund drive continues. Thanks to those who’ve made a donation. See the end of this article for how you can help.

Reversals are good.

Instead of looking for possibilities, look for impossibilities.

An Impossibility doesn’t stir an old pot, it stirs a pot that doesn’t even exist. Yet.

We look back on past inventions and innovations, we spot a pattern, a seeming inevitability—but to the person who actually made the breakthrough in the first place, something spontaneous, something beyond the pale occurred to him. He wasn’t just mechanically putting piece 1254 into a puzzle after piece 1253.

People carve up their futures before they happen. They say, “Well over here are all the things that can’t happen. And over here are all the things that are unlikely to happen. And over here are the things that, given my background and training, might happen.” And so and so forth. Nice and neat. Predictable, reasonable, boring.

The cells of the body are waiting for a jolt of newness. That’s what they want.

WHAT’S IMPOSSIBLE? That’s a powerful question. Of course the answers are going to seem absurd. That’s the whole point. Make them absurd beyond absurd. Keep going. And sooner or later, a gem is going to pop up, and you’ll stop and look at it and turn it over in your hand. And maybe you’ll rub it against another idea and discover a spark.

Nothing is settled. Nothing is ever, ever settled.

Settled is an act we’d all like to play, until we play it, and then we feel a little morbid.

There’s another species on this planet that looks like us. And for them, settled is good. Don’t know why, but that’s the way they are. And they’ve got a boatload of stories to explain why settled is wonderful. The more you listen to those stories, the more you think, well, maybe they’ve got something, maybe I’m missing out. Maybe I want to run around pretending I know everything—that would be a version of settled. I’ll pretend I know everything worth knowing, and I’ll sit on that for forty or fifty years and collect whatever I can get my hands on.

If you asked one of these settled people of another species to ask themselves WHAT’S IMPOSSIBLE, they’d never do it, because they’d know, as the answers poured in, they’d shatter like porcelain and be gone.

WHAT’S IMPOSSIBLE? A hell of a lot more than what’s possible. Count on it. You’re in a good place with impossible. You’ve got lots of room to wander around in. And suppose you take one of these impossible things and make it happen. Breathe some life into it.

That’s a kind of power very few people feel.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

To donate to the nomorefakenews September fund drive and support this work, go to Paypal.com, click on the send money button, enter qjrconsulting@gmail.com and make a contribution. You don’t need your own PayPal account to do this. Many thanks.

SPACE-TIME AND IMAGINATION

SEPTEMBER 18, 2011. In space, time passes.

That means, if you put a clock in a room, it will tick. If it’s digital, the read-outs will change.

Time is associated with change. In that room, a person walks around. A moth circles. Another person enters, then leaves. The shadows move. If you wait long enough, a light bulb will burn out.

In space, some objects remain stationary. Books on a shelf. Notebooks on a desk. Boxes piled in a corner. Shoes on the rug. But again, if you wait long enough, those objects change. They decay.

So convincing is this presentation, we assume all space is this way. And we assume physical space is all the space there is.

Whereas, if we begin talking about the space of imagination, most people would draw a blank. Imagination exists? Yes, maybe, I guess so. But it has a space or spaces? That’s going too far. That’s tantamount to setting up a “competitor” to the space we all recognize.

When I began painting in 1962, one of the first things I became aware of was I was finding and creating space on the canvas. And of course, much earlier, I had vivid sleeping dreams. What was that “thing” I was walking around in, in those dreams?

I once asked a physicist about this. He said: when you dream, you think you’re in space, but that’s just an illusion. As proof, he pointed out that he wouldn’t be able to measure what was happening in the space of my dreams, and for him, that was that.

When you’re inspired by a subjective vision of what you want to do to make your own future, and you stand at a window in the middle of the night and look out over a city, your experience of space is much different from what you experience while walking to your car in the morning to drive to work.

And even if you call “the visionary space” subjective, it can be a crucial factor in what you actually do to bring your future about. To make it happen in the world.

The energy exercises I offer in Mind Control, Mind Freedom, and The Transformations (audio seminars) are also about space. To project energy, you create space naturally. Otherwise, nothing happens.

Go back and watch Orson Welles’ Citizen Kane or Touch of Evil. Those films are all about created space and the arrangement/motion of people in space, and the angles from which they are shot. All film is about this, but Welles does it better.

From the viewpoint of imagination, space is being created all the time.

During the years, 1935-1960, in New York, the so-called action painters (De Kooning, Pollock, Gorky, Kline, etc.) discovered space as a primary workable “substance” for their explorations. They were quite forceful about it. It had nothing to do with Renaissance perspective or the illusion of intentionally drawn objects that mimicked how we see the world. In action painting, subjective space was pushed to the hilt, and it disturbed many people because it challenged the comfortable sensation that space was an entirely settled issue.

When you create space, you create power. Yours.

You’re no longer simply living in the automatically delivered space of the universe.

The transition from heaven-based religion to the worship of the universe itself occurred because, after the deconstruction of religious myths, the simplest course of action was to claim that the space we could see all around us, or through telescopes, was holy. It was easy. And holy space would give us all we needed, without any action on our part. Passivity.

The philosopher-poet, Giordano Bruno, was burned to death by the Roman Church because he suggested that every soul could extend his own space infinitely and yet remain in accord with other souls. This view challenged the Church at such a fundamental level it could not go unanswered.

Bruno, in a real sense, was talking about imagination—and once that door is opened in the discussion, institutions fall.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that every human has the right to pursue life, liberty, happiness, and the creation of space, time, and energy…”

Money is the commonly held method for creating space. If you have money, you can make space. Witness, for example, the man who works for 30 years to accumulate enough to retire and build his dream house or buy his boat, so he can sail the seas. Space.

If there is a revolution in store for us, it will come by reversing that formula, with enough power, so we can create the space first and then flesh it out in the world.

This is far more than an idle fantasy. But to make it so, people are needed who are ready and willing to go the distance.

I’m developing, teaching, and practicing techniques that can, in a considerable fashion, launch such an enterprise.

This is not a sedate undertaking. It isn’t a stroll in the park.

The space-time-energy of the universe could be looked at as a business deal. A guy sells you a coat. He says, “Put this on and you’ll have all the space, energy, and time you need. Why go to all the fuss of creating these things yourself? It’s like a toaster. Do you want to stand next to the stove and cook the bread on a stick over a flame, or just pop the bread in the machine, push the button, and voila…” Some day, with microwaves on the march, we may look back at stoves as religious superstitions.

I’m drawing attention to the fact that some sort of bargain has been struck, and no matter how you may want to mythologize it, the outcome has been framed—people believe they have always had the “toaster,” there was never a moment when they didn’t have the toaster, and therefore, the notion of creating space, time, and energy on their own seems vague, spurious, and out of reach.

Not so.

Artists prove this every day, which is one reason of many I stand up for them. They aren’t satisfied with accepting the space-time continuum as the end-all and be-all. They chafe at that prospect.

Underneath it all, this is why people regard artists with suspicion.

“Why are you creating your own space and time? We have plenty of it already. Can’t you just accept that and get on with your lives?”

Coincidentally, this is the underlying message of secret societies: let us build reality for you.

It’s rather amusing to see people delve into the inner workings of these groups and yet continue to abide by “the rules of the continuum.”

What’s wrong with that picture? Just about everything.

Bypassing all the nonsense and drivel about motivation, I call it the ultimate laziness. People look around and quickly realize they’re surrounded by space, time, and energy, and they conclude there isn’t reason to create their own—and if pressed, they’ll tell as many stories as necessary to explain away their inertia. But somehow, the stories don’t do the trick. Vis-a-vis imagination, you’re either active or passive.

For many years now, I’ve been pointing out the advantages of pushing the “active” button.

The whole red-pill blue-pill story in The Matrix is, in a way, a deflection from the main event, which is: to imagine or not to imagine, to invent or not to invent, to create or not to create.

If we had an actual entity called psychology, instead of a watered-down cultural artifact, it would hinge on that choice, and everything in its purview would bloom from that seed.

Suppose, hypothetically, you found a machine that manufactures all the public space, time, and energy there is in physical reality. Suppose you somehow knew that if you turned off the machine, the continuum would shut down and utterly disappear. Suppose, finally, you also knew that when you turned the machine back on, it would smoothly pick up from where it left off, and no one would recall the “the blank period.” Would you turn off the machine and then turn it back on?

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

To donate to the nomorefakenews September fund drive and support this work, go to Paypal.com, click on the send money button, enter qjrconsulting@gmail.com and make a contribution. You don’t need your own PayPal account to do this. Many thanks.

“CAN’T WE ALL GET ALONG?”

THE CAPTURE OF ALTERNATIVE HEALTH

THE OBAMACARE MIRACLE FOR THE LOVELORN

THE BIG SLEEP IN ANDROID CITY

by Jon Rappoport

(with thanks to a colleague who shall, for the moment, remain nameless because I think he wants to)

“So you start off in charge, you’re an independent operator, you don’t work inside the system, but then you figure out the system thinks it includes you, some moron must have slipped in that clause while you weren’t looking, so you go talk to him, and it’s a pretty congenial meeting, although he does come across like a company man, and then later on you get an engraved invitation to come to a party. The food is very good and the people seem reasonable in a sort of washed-out way, but the upshot is, you can come in out of the cold if you want to. They’ll take you in. You can sit in an office and make twice as much as you were making on your own. That’s what they tell you. The only thing is, you have to sign a piece of paper that says you were never born and you’re actually a desk ornament. They assure you it’s just a formality and they’ve signed the same paper, and look, it hasn’t hurt them…”

The Magician Awakes

SEPTEMBER 17, 2011. When I was running for a Congressional seat in 1994, I was also in the middle of a fight to preserve access to alternative health care, against FDA attack—and during that process, I was enlightened through meeting various members of the Pod People species, who had their own ideas about what health freedom meant.

These were high-IQ idiots who had some sort of access to politicians and academics. They were expert compromisers and sell-out artists, who saw their mission in life as something on the order of “integrating” everything they could get their hands on.

In coming years, they would become hangers-on at CAM, the new office of alternative health established at the National Institutes of Health. Think “seedy tout at the racetrack.”

CAM was, for many people, the realization of a wet dream. Finally, the federal government, gripped in a new cloud of Love, was going to admit that alternative medicine existed and could be “integrated” into “real medicine.”

Yes, yes. A new day was dawning. A day of recognition. A big gold star would be pinned to chests of chiropractors and naturopaths and acupuncturists. O joy.

“You like me! You really like me!”

In these meetings with the Pods, I observed their loafers, their pressed jeans, their safari jackets, their carefully arranged thinning hair, their casual smiles. Holy shit, these were recent incarnations of the frat boys I had gone to college with:

“Everything’s good. All we have to do is craft language the politicians and bureaucrats can understand and accept, and they will reach their hands across the divide, because, in the final analysis, all that separates people is a diversity of background and experience. We can integrate that.”

The sub-text was:

In the coming years, alt. medicine will be recognized. Professorships and bureaucratic jobs and positions at hospitals will spring up out of tax money, and we can dig into that stash and find cushy work, if we play our cards right. But don’t rock the boat. Don’t attack the feds. Don’t go after the FDA. Don’t be “negative.” Love may not conquer all, but it can worm its way into government budgets.

And that was right and true. These days, the professions of chiropractic and naturopathy and acupuncture have, at the highest levels, sold their souls to allopathic medicine and federal regulators—thinking that Obamacare, in its fine print, will protect them into the future, because they can bill for insurance, and all will be well. Therefore, for them, the fight for health freedom is over. They think they’ve actually won.

In the 1960s, this whole process was called co-opting. Government or big business would find ways to absorb (“integrate”) its opposition.

Whereas, once upon a time, the naturopaths were tough seasoned fighters who were holding government at bay and plowing ahead with the work of healing, now they have their own bureaucrats cashing checks and enlightening the young dewy-eyed generation of practitioners on how the game is played:

“Hey, it’s all legal now, baby. Don’t sweat it. (cough, cough) I mean, we are in conference with major players at NIH, and a task force has been created to elucidate the work of two prior study groups, and in this regard we have secured ex-officio membership on a sub-committee to examine the psychological effect, on medical doctors, of reading published studies on minimal supplementation with extremely low-dose Vitamin C during the first five hours of head colds which were preceded by a tingling sensation at the back of the throat and a genital twitching in rabbits…in fact, and you’ll really like this, at the new complementary-medicine wing of a hospital in Northern Alaska, some of our fourth-year students here at the naturopathic college will be able to apply for positions as interns applying a citrus concentrate to toilets in the men’s rooms on the third floor, to assess the results, vis-a-vis germ eradication, against the old toxic cleaning solutions…”

And that about sums up what will happen to the chiropractors and the naturopaths and the acupuncturists up the road, a decade or so after Obamacare really swings into gear. Chiros will adjust the spines of hard cases in homeless shelters who refuse Thorazine and then publish their findings on government-issued toilet paper.

Gradually, the great golden promise of integration will come true, only not in the way this new brand of alt. practitioner expects.

I have news for the New Age Pod alt. bureaucrats. Once you’re in with the government, you’re all the way in. You take the scraps they leave on the table. You learn how to love the scraps. You primp and pump up your pretended achievements and cash your checks. That’s your role. When you’re called on to sell out further, you do it with a smile. You kiss the ring. And you come to realize your profession of natural healing has become a cartoon of itself. You live in that cartoon and you make your little speeches and mount your plaques on the office wall. When you want more money, you stand in line at the federal trough and wait. Bullshit is thy name.

What the Pods never learned is that, when you negotiate with your your opponents, you are you and they are they. Since that is the case, especially when you are coming from a position of relative weakness, your “victories” are wholly a function of who your opponents are and what they really want and what they are willing to do to get it, in the long, long run. Can I make it any simpler?

In this context, integration means you will eventually find yourself in quicksand holding a long stick, and the person on the other end of the stick will be your enemy. Then, he can re-negotiate everything. Immediately.

Yes, Virginia, there are enemies. They exist. They aren’t just an illusion fostered by “old discredited modes of thought.” You don’t make them vanish through some puerile trick. For starters, you don’t put any stock in their promises. Instead, to begin with, you make public their bad deeds. Come on. Wake up. This strategy goes back to the cave men. The first time it was used, a guy stopped his girl friend from marrying some oaf when he said, “Hey, Oaf Dude rolled four boulders we use for bonfires into his own cave. I’ve got him in the act on video. Look.”

This was my strategy when I was running for Congress. I went on the offensive against the FDA. The material at my disposal then, as now, was voluminous. It’s in the public record.

The Pods castigated me for my approach. They saw this as a hindrance to, yes, integration. They told me we were in a new age, and now the preferred method was extensive negotiation. Conflict resolution.

One night in 1994, a few months before the passage of the so-called Health Freedom Bill in Congress, which I was assured would protect us against the FDA forever, I sat in a last-ditch meeting with a dozen other people. We wanted to draft an amendment to the Bill that would nail down the protections we really needed.

A towering hack from UCLA, whose specialty was apparently Brainstorming and Conflict Resolution, a fat domehead who was as interested in health freedom as a scuttle fish is interested in the orbit of the moon, chaired this meeting. He had been invited in as an expert.

So he asked us all to introduce ourselves, one by one, and after that little excruciating exercise, he said he would write, on the blackboard behind him, each of our ideas about why this amendment was important. Well, of course, we already knew why it was important. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have come to the room in the first place.

I saw he was going to take a couple of hours, moving us through his hoops, to get to the heart of the matter, so I said, in my usual gracious style, “This is stupid.”

He looked at me. He tried to smile.

I said, “Let me summarize. We’re here to draft an amendment to the Hatch Bill that will give us more guarantees. We can write this sucker in twenty minutes. I will write it. Does anyone in the room want to go off and write his version? Then we can compare.”

One hand was raised.

“Good,” I said. “Do it. I’ll go into this next room here and type out mine. Let’s take a break and come back in twenty minutes.”

So that’s what happened, and we did hash out an amendment, and of course nobody in Washington wanted to give it three seconds of time, because all the elements of the Hatch Bill had already been agreed upon, behind closed doors.

After our meeting, a man in the room who knew the UCLA hack came up to me and said, “You were pretty harsh there.”

“Really?” I said. “If we’d followed his little Chinese torture technique, it would have taken us six hours to come to the same place we are now. Who did he think he was dealing with, second graders?”

The man frowned.

“That’s not the point,” he said. “Brainstorming has its own style, and we needed to follow that.”

“Why?” I said. “We already knew what we needed. We’re not building a rocket ship here.”

“Okay,” he said, “but this meeting was supposed to be about integrating our ideas, so that, in Washington, the same spirit of integration might prevail and get us what we wanted.”

“By osmosis?” I said. “That’s quite a leap of logic. Do you have a church?”

“What?”

“A church.”

I looked him over. He was lean and bronzed. I imagined he did push-ups under a tanning lamp in his home gym. He was crinkled around the eyes, probably from forced smiling, a practice I don’t normally advocate. His combover seemed to be threaded with minor extensions. I couldn’t be sure. He was wearing one of those bush jackets with the many pockets. His nails were done with transparent polish.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“I sense a church here,” I repeated. “With a doctrine derived from As So Above, So Below. If we’re nice here tonight, ‘Washington’ will mystically pick up the vibe and be nice. Anyway, you don’t remember me, but I was with you at a meeting last month, and you were pushing for a committee to study the amendment, which would have put us so far behind schedule the Bill would have passed before we got our pencils correctly sharpened.”

The man blushed.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You’re winning. You’re going to get a gig in whatever structure comes out of this war we’re waging. You’ll always be the good guy in the room. The folks in Washington like that.”

And by God, he did get a gig. Within the swelling bureaucracy of alt. medicine. A series of gigs. I’m told he’s a brainstorming expert now, and when he holds meetings of his minions, he bores them so greatly a few of them want to push him out a window.

But he’s simultaneously for health freedom and Obamacare, and he’s for “sensible government regulations,” and he’s for cooperating with the FDA and he’s for integrating medical drugs and nutrients—judiciously, of course—and he’s for increased government inspections of organic farms and he’s for genetically modified food, with some (again, “sensible”) restrictions, and he’s for 15 rather than 33 doses of vaccines for babies, and he’s for bringing naturopaths and chiropractors and acupuncturists into the fold, and drafting new “standards of practice and external monitoring” for them.

I believe he calls himself, on occasion, an ex-hippie who still applies the lessons of his youth to the exigencies and realities of our time. I’m thrilled. (Integral integration with integrity.)

With Pods like this working for us, our job is complete. We can take heart and look forward to a new century of love, during which our great-great grandchildren will be birthed in organic oak vats where, synthetic genes imparted, they’ll bathe in a solution that delivers 40 or 50 vaccines at the moment of emergence into the world.

A chiropractor with an advanced degree will clean out the vat and dump the contents into a drain, mop the floor, and take out the garbage.

Outside the baby factory, a fully licensed government naturopath will be raking the leaves on the lawn.

A PhD acupuncturist who’s done post-doc work at the Mayo Clinic will be smoothing out the sand and picking up candy wrappers in the kiddies’ playpen.

They’ll stop working and look up as the hospital dietitian, who researches processed-food injectables, rolls by in her Mercedes.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

To donate to the nomorefakenews September fund drive and support this work, go to Paypal.com, click on the send money button, enter qjrconsulting@gmail.com and make a contribution. You don’t need your own PayPal account to do this. Many thanks.

THE CREATIVE CENTER AGAIN

SEPTEMBER 14, 2011. First, the nomorefakenews September fund drive continues. Thanks to those who’ve made a donation. See the end of this article for how you can help.

On both a personal and public level, boredom is the great challenge for people who live a reasonably normal life. They try to find some spark of excitement that can drive them over the top into new territory, in which adventure becomes paramount.

They unconsciously realize this spark has to be creative. Yet society, more and more, is arranged as compartments that fit into larger compartments.

If people can’t find a way to utilize imagination with power, they’ll fall back into a form of stale theater, in which they already know their roles.

I’ve written before about my desire to start a Creative Center, in which imagination is the core, spreading out from which painting, writing, music, and so on emerge, not from a technical point of view, but as essential expressions of self.

And of course, now that I’ve been writing a great deal about the Magic Theater, I see it would also become integral to the Center.

Meanwhile, I simply simply assume the Center is in the work I’m doing, and it is.

But I thought, in light of the Magic Theater, I’d come back to this notion of a geographical Center, and see what added meaning it would have.

It begins with the idea of The Flood. A global flood of creative action in all significant fields of human endeavor, forwarded by many people, sweeping away resistance to a future in which individuals everywhere live through and by their imagination.

People would come to, and go out from, the center. While there, they would immerse themselves in creativity along several fronts.

And, in the Magic Theater, they would enact, in dialogues, far-reaching roles that stimulate dormant energies and wake up the capacity to invent, innovate, improvise.

There would be no timidity about power, the power of imagination.

The Center takes the position that the creative impulse is primary and natural and has enormous implications for the individual. The world lives largely according to unnatural standards, but there is no compulsion to abide by its methods.

Nevertheless, surrounded by a civilization that urges its citizens to enter a primary role and stay there, people find themselves bound up in the separate energy compartments of their “characters,” wanting some kind of greater theater.

In the Magic Theater, this desire is realized. And the liberation it can achieve is stunning. Then, from that basis, entering the wider creative life of action, in the world, is more doable.

Under the surface of consciousness, people are actually building up a huge amount of information about characters they could play. They see these characters all around them. And they read about and watch them on their multiple screens. It’s as if they are preparing for an actor’s life—but because there is no obvious outlet, the material they gather stays put.

In the Magic Theater, this all changes. The fluidity and aliveness it brings is felt first-hand.

Therefore, in the Center, the old idea of audience listening to teacher and then participating, somewhat minimally, in group exercises, is expanded beyond the breaking point. The entire atmosphere, given the Magic Theater, is creative.

The Center’s goals are more far-reaching, by light years, than the seeding of a few interesting ideas to take back to home base and ruminate about.

These days, there are workshops in which people show up ready to act the part of “seminar goer” or “sponge soaking up knowledge.” The whole time spent is really about imprinting these characters, as if, somehow, they will result in the production of a “better person.” But all they do is place a superficial sheen on the attendee, an imitation of wisdom.

The Magic Theater deconstructs that in ten minutes. But not in a destructive way. It does it by proliferating roles, improvised in dialogues, to the point where the person knows, without doubt, he is taking on greater energy and power. Living energy.

Life does, in fact, imitate art. But merely thinking about that very interesting idea doesn’t get you very far. However, if you begin to act out and improvise far-reaching characters in the Magic Theater, you essentially make art and life at the same time.

And this is a new thing. It immediately interacts with aspect of self that have been hidden under a blanket, as if waiting for a such a defining moment.

When the moment comes, the creative impulse hears the bell ring and authentic transformations are underway.

Add to that some experience writing and painting, for instance, and a person suddenly begins to entertain new ideas, doable ideas for his future.

New space, new energy, new plans, new adventures.

And concomitant illumination.

This is a rough sketch for a Center.

Jon Rappoport

www.nomorefakenews.com

qjrconsulting@gmail.com

To donate to the fund drive and support this work, go to Paypal.com, click on the send money button, enter qjrconsulting@gmail.com and make a contribution. You don’t need your own PayPal account to do this. Many thanks.