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Outside the Reality Machine

Outside the Reality Machine
26 May 2022 | 1:02 am

Modern Zen


by Jon Rappoport

May 25, 2022

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(The latest Episode of Rappoport Podcasts — Episode 9 — "The Monkeypox Outbreak—Is It Real?" — is up. It's a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)

One thing I've learned from giving lectures to audiences over the years: never meet expectations.

"Expectations" is a large container waiting to be filled up. People have these containers. They lug them around with them. They want them to be filled up.

For example, if they expect shocking information from the speaker, and they get it, their expectations are met.

Audiences train themselves to be audiences, and their expectation-containers are ready when they sit down to listen.

There is something missing. Something monumental.

The present moment. The present now. The alive moment. Because, for all its fanfare and interest, the event is not really in the present.

This is by design. No one wants the moment. People's whole lives are devoted to avoiding the moment, because it is spontaneous. That's what a moment is. Spontaneous.

"Everyone can act. Everyone can improvise. Anyone who wishes to can play in the theater and learn to become 'stage-worthy.'" (Viola Spolin)

No one is used to spontaneity. No one is prepared for it.

No one knows what they would do or how they would react in the spontaneous moment. That's why it is avoided.

"Through spontaneity we are re-formed into ourselves." (Viola Spolin)

Yet, the paradox is: people yearn for the spontaneous moment. They yearn for that freedom. It's not freedom as an idea or concept, but freedom as a living thing.

I bring all this up because passivity is the universal effect of living for most people. In that state, they still have expectations and those big containers, but the way they receive information—they certainly don't intend to climb up out of their own passivity. That's the last thing they would do.

"It [spontaneity] creates an explosion that for the moment frees us from handed-down frames of reference, memory choked with old facts and information and undigested theories and techniques of other people's findings. Spontaneity is the moment of personal freedom when we are faced with reality, and see it, explore it and act accordingly. In this reality the bits and pieces of ourselves function as an organic whole. It is the time of discovery, of experiencing, of creative expression." (Viola Spolin)

So when I speak to audiences at live events, I find a way to remind them that we're in a kind of false relationship. It's interesting and false at the same time. There we are in a room, and I'm the speaker and they're the audience. I'm active and they're passive.

Those are our roles. Those are our functions. It's accepted, but it's unworkable. It's self-defeating, unless we all want to be existing in a dead space outside the living present moment. And I don't.

This means I have to readjust things. I have to let people know that I know they're there. Right now. I know they're listening, and I know they're absorbing, and I know that beyond a certain point (10-15 minutes), they're going to shift down into passive mode.

Finding a way, an interesting way to let them know is a challenge.

It's really a challenge that extends to the whole world.

Are we alive or are we doing it by the numbers?

Look at any set-up, which is "the way things are supposed to be," and "the parts that people are supposed to play," and you can see light. The light is what could happen to upset that situation and turn it into something else. Something that would bring people in from the cold, into the moment itself.

Spontaneity means everything is created now.

That's why I keep writing about imagination, because imagination will change a life. It won't only change the content. It'll change the way life happens.

Here's something I can guarantee anywhere in the universe where beings populate planets, where they think, plan, strategize. They're not living in the moment, but they claim they are. They'll say, "How could I be anywhere else? We're all in the present. That's all there is."

But they're wrong. Their big containers are in the moment, and they're waiting outside to accept the flow of information from the containers.

If a person (usually a hard-headed realist) thinks he's already in the moment, have him go up on a stage with another person and take on the role of a galactic cop on patrol, questioning a suspect who is accused of stealing a planet. If the realist can eventually improvise and do it, he'll experience being in the moment in a way he never has before.

Likewise, if he painted 200 paintings, something different would happen to him. He would come to the edge of what he already knows (which he's expressing in the paintings), and then he would step off. He would do something on the paper or canvas which is not what he knows. It would arise spontaneously, and he would feel a new space, a new energy, a new now.

Imagination. Alive imagination. That's the key. The key to the door that leads out of the Matrix.

What's wrong with Zen?

Nothing is wrong with Zen, except the people who practice it.

That's a joke. Sort of.

In the modern style, especially in America, Zen is mostly meditation, and more meditation, and more meditation, and the point of it seems to be to get to a zero point, where you can watch your own mind, your own thoughts, and finally, without effort, stay separate from them, separate from all that radio static, and separate also from your own unbidden parade of emotions that swing by with tooting horns and crashing cymbals and clacking drums and gawking dancing clowns.

A laudable goal.

But on the whole, how many people who do this wind up becoming passive? That's the thing. People tend to opt for quietness.

Whereas, the whole idea ought to be: launch a tremendous amount of dynamic action from the platform of zero-stillness.

Because stillness as a way of life sooner or later begins to disintegrate.

In original Zen, there were ordeals. The teacher gave the student things to do, tasks which eventually became absurd, without discernible purpose. The teacher spoke to the student in riddles and wisecracks. The teacher drove the student into a state of desperation, because the student's rational faculties, which were obsessively involved in systems, couldn't supply answers to questions which defied logic.

The teacher did whatever he had to do to bring the student out over the edge of the cliff, where in mid-air, there were no foundations…and the student felt terror. But the teacher persisted.

And then, in one explosive moment, the student found himself floating in the air. He saw there was no need to explain his existence. There was no need to place a veil between himself and the present moment. He didn't die. He was, finally, alive.

Who knows how this radical approach actually worked out in the many cloisters and huts and cottages where it was practiced, where the stories grew and expanded in their retelling.

Those old teachers were tough characters. They weren't merely meditation instructors.

There was another aspect of Zen, which survives to this day. It could be summarized as: "become the other." The archer becomes the target. He becomes the bow, the arrow, and the target.

The runner becomes the road and the air and the sky and the clouds. The artist becomes the canvas.

The theater of merging with the other.

And as in any theatrical setting, the actor can, by choice, merge with, and un-merge from, his role.

But again, in these times, the main thrust of Zen teaching seems to be meditation, and the culture of stillness, quietude, and passive acceptance.

I'm not saying the meditation is easy to do. It isn't. But somehow, its environment has become circumscribed.

This is unsurprising in America, where every philosophic and spiritual import from Asia has been distorted and watered down for the seeker-consumer. The overriding intent has been to create The Quiet Person.

The world of action has been painted as too disturbing to the "student seeking inner peace." Therefore, retreat. Therefore, set up a buffer zone within which all is harmonized and balanced.

Where is the Zen now that sends people out into the world to revolutionize it down to its core, that stimulates the desire to find and invent a Voice that will shatter delusions and create new realities that have never been seen before?

If the moment of insight, satori, doesn't instigate this, what good is it?

How can satori be "seeing into one's true nature," if the result is a wan gaze out on a uniform landscape of soft-boiled bupkis?

The answer is obvious. Breaking apart, exploding the primary illusions and fears that hold an individual in check is not the goal of most Zen as it is now practiced. That objective has been replaced with the false promise that some ultimate "consciousness" will reconcile the soul with itself.

The way this promise is offered and the way it is taught and the way its surrounding social culture is embroidered is a dud. Dead on arrival.

It's time for a few new koans.

What is the real sound of David Rockefeller? What does Henry Kissinger say when somebody finally puts him in a small bottle with a cork on it? How does an android disguise himself as a human?

If I need a Zen teacher, I'll go to Henny Youngman: "A doctor gave a man six months to live. The man couldn't pay his bill, so he gave him another six months."

In the beginning, the whole point of Zen was to shake things up, not calm them down.

The master assumed a new student was an annoying clod. But that doesn't comfortably mesh with today's "tolerant culture." Today, annoying clods are a special interest group.

Silence, as a key Zen feature, isn't only about a desired inner condition now. It's about a synthetic attitude. So show me a temple where the meditation room is outfitted with a few dozen giant TV screens. The students do their meditation while CNN, Christingle Matthews, Sean Hannity, Oprah, news-boy-on-a bike Brian Williams, Hawaii Five-O, the Shopping Channel, Pawn Stars, Jimmy Fallon and his screaming pubescent audience, and four or five Spanish soaps are going full blast.

That would be a start.

Or throw on 20 or 30 TED lectures simultaneously—prancing grasshoppers extolling the future of technology.

I submit that if the one of the ancient Zen teachers walked into a modern American Zen cloister today, that's exactly what he'd do. Turn on a few hundred TV sets, computers, and mobile devices and say, "Okay, try being quiet in the middle of this!"

Zen is sacred? What? When was it ever sacred? Soft bells, empty halls?

No, you must have Zen confused with a funeral home.

Every age has its massive collection of heavily loaded apple carts, and the job of Zen is to overturn them. When up is down, and insanity is called normal, that's where you begin…

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
25 May 2022 | 3:43 am

Cosmic over easy, toast


Magic to the nth, bye bye universe, hello again

by Jon Rappoport

May 24, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

(The latest Episode of Rappoport Podcasts — Episode 9 — "The Monkeypox Outbreak—Is It Real?" — is up. It's a blockbuster. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)

The inspiration for this article came from the only productive conversation I've ever had with a student of ancient Tibetan practices.

Back in 1982, I was just building up momentum as a journalist for LA Weekly, writing a flurry of articles on nuclear-weapons issues. I met a few doctors who explained radioactive fallout spread to me, with maps and charts. One of the doctors brought along a friend to a meeting, a bright woman who was between teaching jobs.

She mentioned John Blofeld, who had authored a book about Tibet I admired. After the meeting, she and I had coffee at Zucky's, in Santa Monica, the old deli that had been open 24/7 for decades. It was a home away from home for all sorts of light-night LA denizens.

We sat at a table and talked until dawn. The upshot of the conversation was: if, as the Tibetans used to say, universe is ultimately a product of mind, and if the individual can imagine and create other universes, where does that happen? Is it important to leave this physical reality to do it, do you do it right here, and if you manage to leave this reality, do you come back?

Quite far-out engaging stuff. It was like collaborating on a science-fiction story. She'd had a number of experiences doing a version of the Tibetan practice called deity visualization (dv). So had I. We compared notes. Especially about time and how it changes during dv.

I told her that once, I had entered a "time channel" that reminded me of the swiftness and happiness of my favorite movie comedy, His Girl Friday. Cary Grant, Ros Russell.

She said, "Have you ever watched a movie and discovered that the actors on the screen were real?"

"You mean, more than images?"

She nodded.

"More than my subjective impressions?"

She nodded.

"Yes," she said. "Alive."

Well, that part of the conversation took us through breakfast.

I left Zucky's with the feeling that a person's most remarkable and impossible experiences tend to gather dust, unless there is a way to share them. Otherwise, the colors fade; the feelings recede. I vowed not to ever let that happen again.

I've kept that vow.

So here we go…this piece is a kind of excursion that traces a leaping line of thought/experience I've reflected on many times. It's the jumping-off point for my 1999 book, The Secret Behind Secret Societies. It's for you, Margo, wherever you are, whatever you're doing, and for Zucky's, long gone, where we brought ancient Tibet back to life one night. It and Zucky's still live…

People want to say they understand reality.

Or sometimes they want to say they don't have a clue.

Depends on the situation. And on how they feel.

They can go either way with it.

And they're right, you can approach reality from both directions. If reality is an egg, you can peel it and break it open and look at it and eat it. As soon as you do, another hardboiled egg appears on the table. And you can break that one and eat it, too. And boom, another egg. Or you can pretend, in the first place, the egg is an impenetrable mystery and just stare at it for a few centuries…

It's fun, for a while.

But then you run into something like this:

"…Because today we live in a society in which spurious realities are manufactured by the media, by governments, by big corporations, by religious groups, political groups. So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms. I do not distrust their motives; I distrust their power. They have a lot of it. And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes, universes of mind. I ought to know. I do the same thing." — Philip K Dick, "How to Build a Universe That Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later," 1978.

There are interesting story lines to consider—for example, a human approaches and meets the highest level of reality-manufacturers and discovers exactly what the hell is going on.

But I'm not talking about the political, economic, media, medical realities, I'm talking about UNIVERSE-generators, the folks who bring you this whole physical apparatus, the space-time tin can.

Absent, of course, the religious myths. Forget that. All that falls by the wayside right away. It's just a cover story.

Obvious story line: Universe is an amusement park, with all the chills, thrills, and excitements of a Disney production…factoring in just the right amount of pain and suffering to give it street cred.

Better, the vacation scenario. You're taking the spouse and kids to a new place, you buy the ticket, and you're in. WELCOME TO UNIVERSE.

Of course, there's a trick. The Roach Motel trick. Check in, can't check out.

After about 20,000,000,000 lives, you're indoctrinated, as they say.

The ancient Hindus realized there was something fishy about this setup, but they embroidered their insights to include "good reasons why" you shouldn't be able to escape universe.

The whole karma shell game, the caste system, various hierarchies, running all the way up from microspore and ant to king of the world…

The religion story produces a lot of nonsensical static. You need redemption, you were a bad boy, you can't do it on your own, you have to contribute to the building fund for a new pyramid or cathedral, your exit strategy must involve grindingly gradual ascension.

But hey, be a good little soldier, and drop coins in the box.

Some people buy into the squishy New Agey variation. We're all one Glob of Consciousness Goo, that's the final destination, take it easy, don't worry, it'll happen when it's supposed to.

But see, the clue is:

some guys built universe, so why not build your own?

Trouble is, when you've lived in this space-time vacation spot long enough, you tend to forget your have imagination. That's a drawback if you're trying to create a brand new universe.

However…you can imagine you have imagination. Works just as well as the real thing. Truth is, there is no real thing. Imagination ultimately IS imagining you have imagination. I know it sounds odd, but there it is.

You just have to want it.

Physicists tend to get weird on the subject of universe. It's expanding, it's decaying, it's the result of an explosion that came out of nothing and nowhere and still distributed titanic energy, it runs on twelve strings with no guitar player, there's a bullpen where unused energy is stashed, you can't destroy even one micro-micro of energy, ever, or that would somehow upset the whole applecart. They're obviously troubled souls.

In one of the first interviews I did for LA Weekly in 1982, I talked with Bill Perry, who had just quit his cushy job as head of PR for Lawrence Livermore Labs. They do advanced nuclear weapons research there. One day, Bill passed by the desk of a guy who was fidgeting and frowning. He told Bill he was worried about cuts in the defense program. Bill said, "Man, don't you realize we already have enough bombs to blow up the planet ten times?" The guy stared at him. Zero comprehension. "I'm a physicist," he said. "I do research. I solve problems."

Moving along…Ancient European magick was the premise that there was an exit door to universe somewhere. They would eventually show it to you if you submitted to initiation, professed eternal loyalty, and learned all the key words and symbols and ceremonies. Maybe a small cash donation could help. Drugs were sometimes employed. Becoming a slave earned you points.

Yes, there is an exit from the Grand Vacation in the space-time tin can.

But it's not a magickal portal.

It's you.

Always was.

That presents a problem to most people. They don't like it.

Basically, they want to remain Small while exiting into Big.

Doesn't work that way. Sorry. Nice thought, though.

"Yes, I want to move outside this universe through my TV set, while watching Law and Order reruns."

Now, if you were sitting in a concert hall when George Carlin was up on stage, that would be different. A few years before he died, my wife and I saw him at an outdoor venue in San Diego. He was trying out new material for an upcoming HBO special. He did a ten minute piece on the end of the universe and his Uncle Dave. It was a stunner. I won't try to describe it, but I think, if one wanted to choose that moment to wave bye bye to this whole Machine, it would have been possible.

Yet why would anyone want to leave universe? A facile answer might be: after a vacation you'd like to get home.

Or, you want to see what's outside.

Or you're tired of same-old same-old.

Or you want to obtain a platform where you can gain decent perspective on this whole vacation location.

You want to try to remember what it was like before you bought the ticket to the ride.

You want to be able to take off from, and come back to, Here. You want that freedom.

You want the kind of power that doesn't need to operate (and shrink down) within the space-time continuum rules.

And you want to get rid of any stray vestiges of the enormous propaganda that goes along with this universe, the nonsense you've been absorbing in all the sorts of vacation brochures that attracted you in the first place.

But let's not deceive ourselves. Getting out doesn't mean you become someone else.

You're still stuck with the fact that you have infinite imagination and infinite creative power. You can't shuck that off. You might find a spot where you can sink into a couch and watch those Law and Order reruns and not have to worry about having a job or bringing home a paycheck, but amnesia will only take you so far.

Narcosis, amnesia, hypnotic trance—they fight the good fight, but in the end you will need to mount a major campaign to stay small. And even then, the programming tends to develop holes. You wake up one morning, and you look out the window, and you see a reflection of your own power on the horizon.

It's a disconcerting thing, but hell, immortality has that downside.

So why not do something interesting right here and now? Why not imagine imagination and go for the Up? Like it or not, there are a whole lot of oysters in the sea, and they're possible worlds, and they're yours.

No brochures, no salesmen will call, no killer fee, no packing, no crap to deal with at the airport.

Turns out that when you imagine and create widely enough and adventurously enough and intensely enough and long enough, the road you're on, around the next bend, has an exit sign. You make the turn and you're out.

You're outside universe.

And you can come back.

When people say, without knowing why or what they're talking about, that there is cosmic joke, this is what they're really getting a whiff of.

Bye bye or hello, the wind is in your sails, the car is gassed up, the plane's on the tarmac, the rocket's on the launching pad. Ready to rip.

You can then push the discovery button, in which case you'll embark on journeys that involve meeting many interesting people and creatures, some of whom want to burn you. Or you can do a super-galactic war of good versus evil and save the princess from her tormentors. You can glide into astral islands of grottoes, elves, trolls, lost crowns, hyperbolic wizards, sailing ships, and winged horses.

Or you can push the imagine button, in which case you're the artist starting from scratch. Then you invent without limit.

Remember to lock up the house and set the alarm. Tell the neighbor to feed the dog. You may be away for a while.

There's an interesting twist to this tale. Sometimes you think you're in the space-time tin can and you're really already out. Then, coming back can be quite a kick. Tells you something about why you bought the vacation package in the first place. Being here can be quite exhilarating. Especially if you're not carrying around all the propaganda with you. As in, "Hey, shut up already. I know what's in the brochures. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm enjoying myself right now. Take a walk. Go sell somebody else."

Maybe 45 years ago, I was sitting in a movie theater in West LA. It was a Saturday afternoon, and I had walked from my apartment to the theater on a whim. The place was nearly empty. On the big screen, Liz Taylor and Stewart Granger were working through the plot of the costume drama, Beau Brummell. Granger (Beau) and Liz (Lady Patricia) were talking in a drawing room.

The film was a bore. For no particular reason, I decided to home in on the two stars. Focus in hard on them.

After a minute or so, something happened. I wasn't looking at the movie anymore. I was seeing Liz and Granger, as if they were two ordinary people talking on the street. The fancy overstuffed drawing room, the costumes, the story—they were no longer propping up the artifice of the movie.

You know the old saw about the audience suspending disbelief, in order to accept the terms of a play? Well, I had reversed that. I was in such a diamond-hard state of disbelief, I came rushing into the moment like a freight train. And there they were. Not the characters on screen; not the actors. The two people. Spouting lines to each other. It wasn't funny, it wasn't sad, it wasn't absurd, it WAS. Pure, real. The membrane that separated them from me was torn away.

It was like discovering a pirate's treasure chest in a fast-food joint next to the cashier. Nobody else saw it. I saw it.

It seemed like it should be illegal. It wasn't supposed to happen. I was aware some cardinal rule had been broken.

It occurred to me there is a main-event feature about the world and probably the universe itself that is based on permanent and continuing distraction. And now the distraction wasn't there anymore. My mind was very quiet. I was sitting in the dark looking at two people on the screen.

Two people. Very bright on the screen and very clear. There was no movie left. The two of them were undeniably THERE.

The three of us were very alive: I in my seat, the two of them on the screen.

I could have heard a piece of popcorn dropping on a shoe a hundred feet away.

I kept looking at the screen.

What a marvelous thing. The two of them kept talking to each other, I kept watching them. I half-expected one of them to turn to me and tell me to go back to seeing the movie, I was intruding, I should stop.

In the dark space I was sitting in, the air felt cool and gorgeous. The two small side balconies were perfectly scalloped. The muffled sound of somebody whispering down front was clear as a bell.

Everything around me was brilliantly composed.

The raked slant of the seats, the heavy curtains at the sides of the screen, the downward angle of the aisle, the row of little yellow glowing lights on the aisle seats.

Ordinary, but now breathtaking.

Here, in the theater, in that extended moment, without anything added, was a sensational glorious place to be.

The day I met Liz and Granger.

You want to be able to exit, and you want to be able to come back. You want to be able to imagine and create worlds and universes beyond this one. You want to be able to do that from here, from outside, from anywhere. You want the thrill of being outside and the thrill of being here. You want to be able to see reality as ordinary and dull or brilliantly alive.

This is all possible.

This is all doable.

Civilizations always bet on the opposite, they keep doubling down and redoubling on the line that says: can't happen. When they finally play out the string and see the extreme folly of their way, out of the gloom appear these ancient and present facts written on the sky:

You and I and everyone else is immortal and there is no limit, no boundary.

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
19 May 2022 | 11:15 pm

I have six hundred people in my living room, and the galactic patrol is knocking on the door


by Jon Rappoport

May 19, 2022

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I had a dream.

We're all sitting at one table. Pretty heavy poker game going on. I have a straight, jack high. The pot's $460,000. If the patrol comes in, it's a 100K fine for "mass gathering above the limit." I might be able to open the door a crack and slip out and calm down the patrol. If I do, Crazy Charlie might pick up my hole cards and change them. I have a hundred rolls of extra soft toilet paper in my garage. Maybe I can piece off the patrol with 20 rolls and they'll go away. Some guy at the end of my driveway is installing a 5G cell on a pole. I could tell the patrol he's a phony and he's casing the house next door. Why not. My neighbor's putting in a moat with alligators. That's overdoing it. He's hoarding paper towels and cat food and selling them online for outrageous prices. I don't sell my toilet paper. I have the moral high ground. A bird lands on my shoulder. Big black bird with big wings. He says, "You're out in the yard now, so don't go back in the house. Your hand's dead. It's a loser. Don't look back or you'll turn into a pillar of salt. The patrol's busting everybody in the house. Nothing you can do here. You need to take this to the senate." Suddenly, I'm in a chamber. I'm testifying before a committee, telling them about the virus scam and the economic war on the country, and these men are listening. They're interested. I get the feeling they're not from around here. They're visitors. They're gathering information, adding up the con. They realize what's going on. It's a relief to find intelligent men in power. They don't ask stupid questions. They don't talk in soapy generalities. They're alert. I look closer at one guy. He must be…he's enjoying himself. He's smiling a little. He's thinking about what he and his people are going to do. How they're going to round up the arch criminals and ship them off to a distant location. Something like that. I like his confidence very much. He has justice in his hands and he knows how to deliver it. There isn't any hesitation. He's a leader, in the mold, I used to assume, as a kid, leaders occupied. Strong, easy, smart, without any devious agendas or avoidances. Quick to recognize the facts, understand the implications, and act. As if—what else would he do? He's a natural. This is all so simple. Finally. The princes are doing wrong? Remove the princes. I see a few other people in the room. They've already testified. They have their own versions of the con, how it's being run. We're all basically on the same page. They're part of the PUSHBACK. That's what it is. People are speaking up. They're not holding back. The tide is moving. People are telling each other the whole thing is an operation designed to wreck society. That's the game, the war. The truth is somehow suddenly a shareable thing. The lock is off the gate. There was a membrane between IQ and empathy. Now the two are pouring into each other, magnifying each other. The shelves and shelves of bureaucracies are made out of ice and they're melting down. Who needs them? The employees, documents in their hands, are swimming for the shore, fleeing the scene. To start their lives over again. Now I'm standing on a beach. It's a sunny afternoon. A limo pulls up on the sand and President gets out. He's a man I've never seen before. All I know is, he's 20 years younger than he was a few minutes ago. He looks refreshed, ready for action. He's finally got his facts straight, and the whole stupid vicious business is coming to an end. He says only one thing. "Don't stop the pushback." The limo disappears and the bird is here again. He's standing on the sand. Now he's a bright blinding blue. He says, "A million voices, two million, ten million, pushing back, and you have something. Get it? They're trying to take a wrecking ball to your world. Don't shut up. Crank up the volume. Be fruitful and multiply. Does a person good."

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
18 May 2022 | 4:28 am

The Department Store of Negotiation


by Jon Rappoport

May 17, 2022

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Some extraterrestrial civilization observing Earth would have issued a report to home base:

"The planet is inhabited by different types of people who, basically, don't get along with each other. They never will. Earth is some sort of mixed bag. Their elites have decided to build a single race out of this mish-mash, through propaganda, mind control, and biological experimentation. That program is destructive, and it won't work."

The actual solution is a functioning Earth department of negotiation.

But not a government entity. So I call it a department store.

—Many people at work cooking up ways for people who basically don't get along to negotiate with each other.

The subject has never been explored as extensively as it needs to be.

Compromise is a slippery version of what we require, because it tends to make people abandon what they are. I'm not asking for that.

Negotiation is in the vein of two fortresses agreeing to leave two roads open for travel and not blow them up. The fortresses remain. They don't try to melt down into soft cheese.

The department store would feature thousands of glass cases. Inside each case would be an illustration of a negotiation. Diplomats would stroll through the store every day. Absorbing possibilities.

This is a forever enterprise.

Inside a prison, a common yard for all inmates is insane.

You have a black yard and a white yard and a Latin yard.

And then you have a department store, for the best and brightest of the three groups. They browse, they talk to one another, they propose specific deals. They're cautious. Circumspect.

Little by little, arrangements are hammered out.

Out in the world, there would have been a Russian-Ukrainian-NATO department store. For a decade or two. Zelensky wouldn't have become President. George Soros would have been exiled from the Ukraine. NATO (the US) would have reduced the number of nuclear missiles ringing Russia.

Negotiation is a method of avoiding extreme solutions. Including the extreme solution of declaring an all-out Peace, which would be alarming to all parties.

Gradually, a tradition builds: people who want shooting wars and people who want to eradicate hatred suddenly and radically are widely considered to be psychotic.

Hatred is a mountain of stone. During a given century, perhaps a layer one millimeter thick is worn away.

Recognizing and accepting hatred between groups, however, has a beneficial and mysterious effect. Nothing changes, and yet something does change.

Not through force. Not through demanding the alteration of language. Not through preaching. Not through the kind of condemnation and accusation and victim tunes we now swim in.

People learn to see their hatreds of each other as money in the bank. And they cherish that money. They can count it. They can look at it every day and make sure it's still there. Nobody is trying to seize the accounts.

And they know about the department store. Which grows larger every month, but retains its careful and cautious repose and composure.

A central feature of human culture is the stand-off.

Against the odds, it is admired.

The stand-off permits negotiation.

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
13 May 2022 | 6:01 pm

Wormhole in the Museum Called Reality


by Jon Rappoport

May 13, 2022

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My friend Charlie sells a painting to the Gregorian Museum out on Galactic Park.

They hang his painting in one of the upstairs rooms for a week, and then trouble starts. Charlie gets a phone call in the middle of the night from the director. Charlie can't believe his ears. He rushes over to the museum.

Upstairs, the director is in his pajamas pacing back and forth. Charlie goes up to his painting, looks at it for a few minutes and sees it.

People have walked into the painting and taken up residence there.

Holy crap.

They're in there.

Law suits, the director says. Their families could take us to the cleaners.

When Charlie calls out to the people inside his painting, they don't hear him. They don't seem to be able to get out. At least no one's trying.

What do you want me to do? Charlie says.

Get them the hell out of there, the director says. Pick up the picture and shake it if you have to. Turn it upside down. I don't care.

Charlie doesn't think this is a good idea. Somebody could get hurt.

So for the next few hours, he sits in front of his painting, drinks coffee, and tries to talk to the people inside.

No dice. Even when he yells, they don't notice him.

By this time, the chairman of the museum board has shown up. He's agitated. He's yabbering about containing the situation.

Charlie asks him how he proposes to do that.

Blanket denial, the chairman says. Pretty soon, the cops are going to link these disappearances to the museum—but then we just throw up our hands and claim we know nothing about it.

A lot of good that'll do, the director says. Even if we wiggle out of the law suits, our reputation will be damaged. People won't want to come here. They'll be afraid somebody will snatch them.

Okay, the chairman says, we'll shut down for repairs. New construction. That'll buy us a few weeks and we can figure out something. We'll say the building needs an earthquake retrofit. Not a big one. Just some shoring up.

…So that's what happened. They closed the museum and hoped for the best.

Charlie was upset. If word got out, how could he ever sell another painting? His agent told him he was nuts. He'd become the most famous person in the world, and people would be lining up trying to get inside his pictures. You'll be a phenomenon, he said.

Yeah, Charlie said, until some loon tries to take me out.

A week later, while Charlie and I were having breakfast at a little cafe over by the river, he told me the people inside his painting were building yurts. They were digging a well.

What are they eating, I asked him.

Beats me, he said. But they don't seem worried. They look okay.

But they can't get out, he said. At least they don't want to. They're settling down in there!

I asked him the obvious question about shrinkage.

I know, he said. They're a hell of a lot smaller. But no one's complaining, as far as I can tell.

They like your work, I said.

He looked at me like he was going to kill me, so I let it drop.

Okay, I said. Here's what you need to do. Go over there and add something to the painting.

He blinked.

What?

Paint on the painting. See what happens.

Sure, he said, and drive them into psychosis. Who knows what effect it would have?

Paint a nice little country road that leads them right out into the museum. They'll see it, they'll walk on it.

No, he said. Don't you get it? They've already taken things a step further. They're not just living in my landscape. That was the initial draw. They're building their own stuff in there. They're…poaching!

Silence.

Then there's only one thing you can do, I said.

I leaned across the table and whispered in his ear. He listened, then jumped back.

No, I said. You have to. Don't be a weak sister. Go for it.

…So Charlie went upstairs in the museum and cleared everybody out. He unpacked the little suitcase he'd brought and set up a player and a speaker. He shoved in a disc and turned on the music. Some sort of chanting. A chorus.

He took out a change of clothes from the suitcase and put on a long robe and a crazy hat. He eventually showed it to me. It was from a costume party he'd had at his house. Tall red silk hat with tassels hanging from it.

He stood in front of the painting and said:

HELLO, INHABITANTS. I AM CHARLIE. I'M YOUR CREATOR. YOU'RE LIVING IN MY WORLD, THE WORLD I MADE.

They all looked toward the sound of his voice.

THAT'S RIGHT, he said. I'M RIGHT HERE. THIS IS A REVELATION. I DON'T DO MANY OF THESE SO LISTEN UP. I AM YOUR CREATOR, YOUR GOD. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

All 30 or so of them were now gathered together, outside one of the half-finished yurts.

They were nodding and saying yes.

GOOD. WE NEED TO GET A FEW THINGS STRAIGHT. YOU DIDN'T OBTAIN MY PERMISSION TO ENTER MY WORLD. SO YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO COME OUT SO WE CAN DISCUSS DETAILS. MY WORD IS LAW. UNDERSTAND? STOP THE BUILDING. STOP THE DIGGING. WALK TOWARD ME. WALK TOWARD THE SOUND OF MY VOICE.

They hesitated, looked at each other, and started to walk toward Charlie.

THAT'S RIGHT. KEEP GOING. YOU'RE DOING FINE. I'M GOING TO SHOW YOU WHERE I LIVE.

This was apparently quite a perk, so they walked faster. They broke into a trot.

Finally, they emerged from the painting and, Charlie said, they swelled back to normal size right away. It was quite a thing to see, like balloons blowing up—and then there they were, all around me, in the museum. First thing, I took the painting off the wall and laid it on the floor, face down. Enough of that stuff.

Charlie told them who he was, the painter. It took a few hours of intense conversation before they understood and accepted the situation. All in all, they seemed sad.

What were you going to do, he asked them. Live in there forever? Couldn't you see how to get out?

We didn't want to get out, one of the men said. We liked it in there.

And that was pretty much that, except for the signing of waivers and non-disclosure agreements with the museum. For which the people were granted lifetime platinum memberships and some vouchers and coupons for the museum store and restaurant.

Charlie went into a funk. He didn't go into his studio for a few months.

One night, I dropped over to his house with a bottle of bourbon and we had a few drinks out on his porch.

You know, I said, you can start a church if you want to. I know a guy who writes fake scriptures and peddles them. He's good.

You really do want me to kill you, he said.

We drank in silence for a while.

I told him: those people with their wells and yurts? Sooner or later, they're going to hypnotize themselves and fall for another strange deal. Nobody's going to stop them.

Charlie looked grim. They liked living in my picture. It wasn't a problem for them. I took them out. I conned them.

Well, I said, if that's the case, and there's nothing wrong with them, they'll find another painting. See? Someday, you'll read about a bunch of people disappearing, and that'll be what it is.

Yeah, he said, maybe.

A week later, he got back to work.

Universes. Some weird things happen in that area.

I started to write a Charlie a note. It began: Maybe all universes are just like your painting. But I stopped. Charlie wouldn't react well to that.

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
12 May 2022 | 5:05 pm

Why do you read this blog?


by Jon Rappoport

May 12, 2022

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I'm making a few assumptions.

You have your own idea about what "the reality machine" is. It may not be a perfectly formed idea, but it's there, and you know there's something very important and interesting about what sits outside that machine. You know the machine has something to do with imposed limitations on the mind. You think about offloading those limitations.

You consider the possibility that imagination is relevant to what sits outside the reality machine. Imagination isn't preoccupied with what already exists in the world or in the mind. That's a clue. Imagination journeys into untapped realms. You wonder about just how powerful imagination can be.

In the course of your life, you've had moments when limitations went away. How and why that happened may not be clear, but the experiences were vivid, and you can still remember some of them. The clouds parted. The gates opened.

And what I keep saying, in one way or another, is: imagination is the key. It's the key to offloading limitations.

That's because imagination doesn't care about repeating, over and over, what is already known and understood and perceived. That repetition doesn't disclose what sits outside the machine.

To exit the environs of the machine, you need to deploy the faculty you've always had, the faculty that never goes away, the faculty that leads you into unexplored territory. It's not enough to "try to change what you perceive," in order to see beyond the machine. You need to invent.

Imagine.

When I put together my collection, Exit From The Matrix, invention was my target. All the imagination exercises in that collection were designed to bring this faculty front and center.

The machine says: "Here is what reality is, and there is what reality is, and over there is more of what reality is, and what I show you is all that reality is. There is no other reality."

The faculty of imagination says: "There is no limit to what reality is, because you can invent new realities at every conceivable level of life and perception and experience."

Obviously, what I'm talking about here is not found in any text book. It isn't widely disseminated knowledge. This isn't psychology in any traditional sense of the word. It's not part and parcel of what society is.

I learned a great deal from reflecting on my experiences as a painter. I realized I could file that knowledge away or base my life on it. I could make it "dead data" or the wellspring of my own future.

What I'm discussing here, in this article, is not a principle implicit in the universe. People might like to say it is because then it takes the focus away from them. What I'm discussing in this article is implicit in the individual.

"The machine" is a metaphor for engineered consent on every level of life and consciousness, and at bottom the prime engineer is the individual himself. What is being engineered? Limitation. Lack of imagination. Normalcy.

"All human accomplishment has the same origin, identically…Imagination, imagination, imagination. It converts to actual. It sustains, it alters, it redeems!" (Saul Bellow)

"I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." (Albert Einstein)

"This world is but canvas to our imaginations." (Henry David Thoreau)

"Imagination is like a muscle. I found out that the more I wrote, the bigger it got." (Philip Jose Farmer)

"Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality." (Lewis Carroll)

"The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity… and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself." (William Blake)

"We lay there and looked up at the night sky and she told me about stars called blue squares and red swirls and I told her I'd never heard of them. Of course not, she said, the really important stuff they never tell you. You have to imagine it on your own." (Brian Andreas)

"The world of reality has its limits; the world of imagination is boundless." (Jean-Jacques Rousseau)

"Imagination isn't a thing. It isn't an object you can look at and measure. It's more like a secret language you've always known how to speak. But then they taught you the standard language. Nothing wrong with that, except you forgot the first language. You took the magic language and put it on a remote shelf in a faraway room. And now you look for it as if it were a chunk of gold. But that secret language has no boundaries. You can make it bigger. You can expand it without end. You can try to describe this language and characterize it and even define it, but then that limits what you'll do with it. All the trouble starts with the limiting. You settle for a smaller version of the secret language. You play with the smaller version. After a while, you've drained and explored it. What then? You need to expand and extend the secret language. Keep going. When you do, you find that this world, the physical world, makes more sense. You can see it more clearly. You can deal with it more successfully. That's good, because you and I and everyone else operates in this world. But that's not a reason for dropping the secret language…" (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
12 May 2022 | 1:44 am

William Blake: prince of imagination, vision, and faith


"If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is: infinite."

by Jon Rappoport

May 11, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

(Episode 8 of Rappoport Podcasts — "My Early Years in Journalism: Finding my voice and a future; the strange trip and the heroes" — is now posted on my substack. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)

Since I've been writing about the individual inventing his own reality, and having posted a piece about Ayn Rand, I now turn to a quite different person of a different time, the poet and artist William Blake (1757-1827). No doubt Blake would take vigorous issue with my simple claim that he created his own reality; nevertheless…

Aside from the fact that Blake mercilessly criticized organized religion, there is no other poet in the English language possessed of greater faith; the form of that faith, and whether it changed substantially over the years are subjects for scholars. I view Bake, first and foremost, as a poet, who set down what he saw, envisioned, imagined, believed, and questioned.

Here is a question (was it rhetorical?) he raised in one of the greatest poems in any language:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

Blake also wrote: "And now let me finish with assuring you that, Tho I have been very unhappy, I am so no longer. I am again. Emerged into the light of day; I still & shall to Eternity Embrace Christianity and Adore him who is the Express image of God; but I have travel'd thro' Perils & Darkness not unlike a Champion. I have Conquer'd, and shall still Go on Conquering. Nothing can withstand the fury of my Course among the Stars of God & in the Abysses of the Accuser. My Enthusiasm is still what it was, only Enlarged and conform'd."

And he wrote this: "The ancient poets animated all objects with Gods or Geniuses, calling them by the names and adorning them with the properties of woods, rivers, mountains, lakes, cities, nations, and whatever their enlarged & numerous senses could perceive. And particularly they studied the genius of each city & country, placing it under its mental deity; Till a system was formed, which some took advantage of, & enslav'd the vulgar by attempting to realize or abstract the mental deities from their objects: thus began priesthood; Choosing forms of worship from poetic tales. And at length they pronounc'd that the Gods had order'd such things. Thus men forgot that all deities reside in the human breast."

And this: "It is not because Angels are Holier than Men or Devils that makes them Angels but because they do not Expect Holiness from one another but from God only."

"Thinking as I do that the Creator of this World is a very Cruel Being & being a Worshipper of Christ, I cannot help saying: 'the Son, O how unlike the Father!' First God Almighty comes with a Thump on the Head. Then Jesus Christ comes with a balm to heal it."

Make of that powerful brew what you will; I just keep reading Blake's lines of poetry:

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour.

He who doubts from what he sees
Will ne'er believe, do what you please.
If the sun and moon should doubt
They'd immediately go out.

Love to faults is always blind,
Always is to joys inclined,
Lawless, winged, and unconfined,
And breaks all chains from every mind.

Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a heaven in hell's despair.

O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

In every cry of every Man,
In every Infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.

Blake went to school only until he was ten. He was then educated at home by his mother.

His religious faith was equaled by his faith in imagination. Perhaps to him they were the same.

There is no other voice like his in the history of poetry. It is unique, in part, because he never wavered from his own vision. He took jobs and commissions, but they never distracted him from the ocean of his work.

He had "a genius of the ear." He could hear a nursery rhyme and then raise it to the door of his heaven without ever dropping back into a trace of syrup or sentimentality.

A hundred years later, Yeats read Blake's most magic lines and realized that modern poems could be filled with them. Magic? Here is what I mean:

Yeats: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

Blake: What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry?

Yeats: Once out of nature I shall never take
My bodily form from any natural thing,
But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make
Of hammered gold and gold enamelling
To keep a drowsy Emperor awake;
Or set upon a golden bough to sing
To lords and ladies of Byzantium
Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

Blake: When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

I mention Yeats for another reason. There is a story told about his marriage. There are several versions. The one I prefer illustrates what I mean when I say: no one can predict what reality an individual will create when left to his own devices, when freed from the restraints of what he is supposed to believe. The story also illustrates the lengths to which individuals will go to forge a unique vision.

For almost 30 years, Yeats pursued the love of his life, Maud Gonne. She refused to marry him. A year after she turned him down for the last time, in 1916, grief-stricken and at the end of his rope, at age 52, he married Georgie Hyde-Lees, who was 25.

Almost immediately, Georgie saw their marriage was doomed to fail. Four days after their wedding, she suddenly told Yeats she could perform automatic writing. "Instructors" dictated highly esoteric texts to her. This intrigued Yeats. Together, they began to work out myriad systems to make metaphysical sense of the huge cascades of strange pages Georgie began setting down—-eventually resulting in the 1925 book, A Vision.

Their marriage endured. They had two children. Yeats dug deeply into the automatic texts and extracted images and phrases which he used and reworked in his late poems.

In my preferred version of this story, Georgie, desperate to hold on to her husband, invented both the pretext of her ability to perform automatic writing AND invented the ensuing mystical texts.

It worked. Once the new alliance with her husband was formed, the marriage survived; and Yeats, his writing up against a brick wall of exhaustion, suddenly found new sources and material and inspiration.

New life, new poetry, new partnership, new love.

Georgie decided to risk everything, and she won.

On the wings of THE INVENTION OF REALITY.

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
10 May 2022 | 11:51 pm

Here comes the COVID Judge; staging life


by Jon Rappoport

May 10, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

(Episode 8 of Rappoport Podcasts — "My Early Years in Journalism: Finding my voice and a future; the strange trip and the heroes" — is now posted on my substack. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)

In the 45th year of lockdowns, under the dome of Mars Colony Two, in the city of Fauci, an appeals court Judge held a private hearing, for the purpose of questioning Dr. Wen Ho Goldberg, an eminent NSA psychologist on loan from the Earth Universal Surveillance Program.

Dr. Goldberg, let me summarize the situation. On Mars, the Great Awakening took place 25 years ago. We realized there was no virus, the tests were meaningless, the case and death numbers were largely the result of relabeling traditional lung conditions and calling them "COVID." And yet, our citizens PREFERRED living under lockdown and carrying on the better part of their lives virtually, without personal face to face contact. So the lockdowns have become Culture.

Yes, your honor, I understand. And you want me to offer an opinion about what would happen if you tried to force the citizenry OUT OF lockdown mode.

Correct.

If it ain't broke, don't fix it.

That's it?

If you force people into public spaces, you're going to get fear and panic, crime waves, acts of terrorism. In lockdown mode, people are compliant and calm.

Yes, compliant. But we've also noticed the consumer indexes are trending down.

Ah, I see. So that's the real problem. People are buying fewer goods.

Exactly.

Maybe they already have enough stuff.

Regardless, Doctor, we have to rescue the economy.

You need a threat.

What?

Some kind of threat that makes lockdown mode seem dangerous.

What would that be?

A fake brain disease, perhaps. "New studies claim that brain cells are dying as a result of living indoors for long periods of time…" "People who are communicating online with bots but believe they're human are experiencing organ failure…"

I see, yes. Force people outdoors. Then we could stage massive sales events and trade shows and job fairs and—

And circuses with violent contests. You want to channel public fear of physical life outdoors into spectator events. Gladiators. Wild animals. Blood. Death.

We'd need lots of propaganda promoting freedom.

As distasteful as that might be…yes.

Doctor, I think you're on to something.

Let me paint a picture for you. This colony is isolated. It has a unique opportunity to stage a vast experiment. Lay out a rerun of 3000 years of human history.

What does that mean?

Your honor, think of it—you can put your population through the high and low moments of the past, in serial form. The codification of Roman Law, the birth and death of Jesus, the Middle Ages, the rise of the Catholic Church, the Renaissance, the—

You're losing me, Doctor.

You have the pattern. History. Stage it all over again for your people. In sequence. Repeat it. Of course, you'll need to start out with a huge depopulation program. But that's easy.

Are you out of your mind, Doctor?

Not at all. You want action. You want to take people out of lockdown mode and virtual life. So why settle for a momentary solution? Look at the long term. Think big.

In practical terms, what you're suggesting would impossible to pull off.

Really? Back on Earth, we still have between 5 and 6 billion people who believe the virus is real and the pandemic is real and the poisonous vaccine is the cure. That's quite a hoax to stage, wouldn't you say? Now, with a few memory-erasing drugs, and a depopulation campaign, you here on Mars could lay out any kind of program you want to. You, your honor, could become Augustus, emperor of your Colony.

I could?

Of course. Why not? You could create Rome all over again.

You ARE completely nuts, Doctor.

Of course I am. That's what it takes. YOU'RE the problem, sir. You and the other leaders of your Colony. You've gone soft. All civilization is an experiment. Get that through your head. Here on Mars, the COVID experiment has reached the end of the line. So you need a new one. You don't like restaging history? All right, try climate change. Claim that indoor living is creating a huge humidity problem. It's reached a critical mass. You need to adjust oxygen levels under the dome. People need to open their doors and walk outside.

That might work.

You can dream up a hundred plans that would work. You have an open field. Use it. Reshape your higher education system. Make advanced degrees in advertising and consumer spending the apex of intellectual achievement. Educators are whores. They'll go wherever the money flows.

You really think we could re-stage all of human history in, say, 20-year epochs?

It's quite a vision, isn't it? Yes. You could make it happen. The Dark Ages. The Great Plague. The two World Wars.

Doctor, if people somehow got hold of the details of this conversation we're having, they'd say—

They'd say we were two crazy old men who should be locked up in a psych ward. Well, that's good for us, right? We have the perfect cover. Here's the capper. Back on Earth, the CIA has a step-by-step plan for restaging history. I can make that plan available to you.

Really?

Yes. And you would become the chief conduit. The Master of the Transformation.

I like the sound of that.

Of course, you would have to agree to certain conditions.

And what would those be, Doctor?

Well, to boil it down, I would run you and the CIA would run me.

I'm your dog, and you're the CIA's dog.

That's right.

And together, we stage LIFE for the people of this Colony, for, say, the next 500 years?

Exactly.

We put them through the highs and lows of past history. A rerun. As if it all never happened before.

Yes.

And this stimulates the economy and—

It does a great deal more than that, your honor. It gets people MOTIVATED along many fronts. Adrenaline flows. Survival is on the line. Adventure returns.

But why can't we just open up life in our Colony and invent new futures that might be more exciting than anything that happened in the past? Why can't we give REAL freedom a chance?

Because then we would lose CONTROL.

Yes, but losing control could be the most exciting thing of all.

Your honor, maybe you're not the man for the job I have in mind.

No, no, Doctor, I'm just airing out the ideas that come into my head. This is all so new. I'm thinking it over.

I have a list of people here in the Colony. They're all candidates for the job. If you don't want it, I'll be moving on.

OF COURSE I want it, Doctor. What do I have to do first?

Sign an official oath and pledge. The Past is better than the Present. The Past is better than the Future. The masses must never learn the Past, they must live through it, over and over…"those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it"…we will make that into Reality…

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
10 May 2022 | 2:50 am

The temporary continuum, Part Eight


by Jon Rappoport

May 9, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

(For "The temporary continuum, Part Seven", click here.)

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?"

"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?"

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."

In the thousands of stories about ETs coming to Earth with a message, where is the ET who says, "Wait a minute, don't you people realize you're passively accepting this space-time setup you have? Don't you realize there's another way to go about this? What happened to you? You bought a vacation in this little island of space-time, and you never went home. You forgot the way home…"

It's even worse than that, because the vast majority have also become salespeople for this space-time continuum. They sell it every day, they pitch it and promote it and market it and hype it as "the one and only."

Nothing intrinsically wrong with this space-time. It's the acceptance of it as the final word that causes all the trouble.

One of the most successful sales tactics is making space less affordable and thus more valuable and scarce.

"Get your little space now, before it's too late. For the low-low price of $250,000 you can move into a 250-foot-square shoebox."

And then: "We have to spy on everything that happens in this space, because everybody is a potential terrorist."

It's the shrinkage factor.

Focus everyone's attention on diminishing, tightly controlled space, and they'll be less likely to remember that they can invent their own.

"Invent their own? What is he talking about? Maybe we should bring him in for questioning."

"Don't bother. INVENTING YOUR OWN is just a myth."

"Who says so?"

"We do. We decide which myths are acceptable."

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

Outside the Reality Machine
5 May 2022 | 4:22 am

The temporary continuum, Part Seven


by Jon Rappoport

May 4, 2022

(To join our email list, click here.)

(Episode 7 of Rappoport Podcasts — "The Whole COVID and AIDS Fraud: My 35 Years of Investigation; The complete story for the first time" — is now posted on my substack. To listen, click here. To learn more about This Episode of Rappoport Podcasts, click here.)

(For "The temporary continuum, Part Six", click here.)

The Surveillance State is inventing a new continuum.

Since we know snooping covers all data and all people who use data (meaning everybody), nothing is too trivial to be spied on and collected and stored and analyzed for suspicious content.

The technology may or not currently exist to collect every datum under the sun, but that's the goal, and the program is rapidly advancing.

The spying agencies will decide their limited algorithms should do more than interpret meaning: their formulas should govern and dictate what kind of communication is permissible.

To put it another way, people should communicate what can be analyzed by machines, and should refrain from touching on and inventing what the machines can't assess.

Surveillance becomes the arbiter and shaper of public and private interactions.

"Speak only in ways that allow us to decide whether you are a threat."

Those who break that rule will automatically fall under suspicion and be labeled. And investigated. An attempt will be made to reeducate them.

Into less intelligence and imagination.

Everything I'm describing in this piece is already, on some level, happening, although not all of it officially by fiat.

The Surveillance State is a sophisticated version of peer pressure, in which the peers turn out to be agents. Propaganda operatives invent a need for spying on populations, and their media allies refuse to expose this fact.

As the future unfolds, it will become obvious that the true purpose of snooping is to place a ceiling on what can be experienced.

Looked at from afar, whole populations will resemble prisoners shackled to grossly limited conceptions of themselves.

But there is a counter-trend. Even now, the natives are restless. Freed from old constrictions of organized religion and its mythologies, some people are recognizing they have the ability to exceed, step around, and move through the so-called laws of physics, into psychic territories that float beyond the space-time continuum.

Without laboriously citing examples (and even confirming studies), I would liken this breakout to the discovery that one can listen to music that has been labeled "dissonant" (outside the approved spectrum of harmony) and, in it, find new meanings and emotions and unreducible seas of life.

I can do that.

So can you.

We're not crazy. The Surveillance State is organized craziness. They're trying to invent a continuum that makes their craziness official.

They won't win.

Exit From the Matrix

(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 29th 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.

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