12aHTUSOM Where WillPower Shadows the Mind

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Transcript of 12aHTUSOM Where WillPower Shadows the Mind

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    Who is our mindi?

    The mind is that ghosting genie rising from the fleecy forest coat, its ephemeral andethereal existence across smoky mountains. The mind is that clearing, the dew pearls at thetip of every grass blades which, at first light carpets a glistening refraction of intelligenceacross lawn enclaves. the mind is that breeze through the undergrowth flirting with trunks,teasing a brushwood of in leaf canopies. The mind is the keeper of psychic launchedprojectiles, exploding a fireworks of ideas and billowing an in leaf fleece number of thoughts,shaking clusters of twigs, and fluttering pensive palms of leaves. The mind is that bubble ofbrooding wings, silent as a mother hen radiating warmth to a cluster of chicks. The mind sitson a ground trail casing the living chicks migration through the forest. The mind is the motherof psychic hand concentrate, which cups the scalp of a newborn, insulating the cannedcauliflowerii of the skull germinating grounds for the interfacing tree to a cosmic rain forest.

    willpower's physical limitation

    The psycheThe psyche

    on theon theseatseat

    of aof aTerrestrial BarTerrestrial Barstration:

    Background are symbolic wings of

    mind, which aureole bubble to thehands of concentration psychic,eaming the cognitive biorhythmic tohe physical organs and a surgical

    bypass of the willpower.

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    of a bush, or under a table listening for falling war debris to stop, orwishing to escape the harsh firing words deeply hurting our feelings. Thewillpower is that physical level of anxious moments at re-discovering thecomfort of the womb prior to birth.

    Voluntary messenger of the soul

    When the willpower defies the mind, the spirit bottlenecks with a squeezestranscendence and one might as well try another voluntary route, that of trance which,contrary to sheer force degrade the porosity of the latexiii skin into hibernation of the mind.

    the mind, of the spirit and outof a universal vacuum. Thespirit is vacuum and slave ofthe soul, for which the body isa cognitive laboratory of thefree will, evolving from a

    passive force to animal force,and feeding the supraliminalknowledge bank, a leadingatmospheric, gravitationaland physical existence.

    I was led by the genieof my soul my master

    overbearing a giant notion over my shoulders. Presence that father leading me as a littleboys with the clasp of a hand on my neck. That day in Lille, I bungee jumped, confusedwhether voluntary or, involuntary coerced by my spirit. A spirit ethereal as ever, serving theflustering breeze of butterfly wings, the veil of hands at the string of the harp orchestrating

    the puppet of my body a soul's logic unconscious that the focus of my interests were beingtaken another higher level, in answer with the gift of a vision. To add, to a phenomenalnumber of esoteric experiences through my childhood, and rolling a social life over myadulthood. The spirit and active servant which reflected my narcissistic soul, the consciousface and moral eyes of a cognitive notion at the supraliminal hideout in the depth of theinfinite blues at loss of light tinted with a shade of gray.

    The vision of a white cloth was left to imagine the invisible pinch of a thumb andindex finger. magical, the fingers pulled the corner of a white handkerchief, and in anelegant slow motion appeared from the breast pocket of a tailored made wedding suite.Only that I saw by the beacon of sight in the middle of my head, the tight woven fabricsbeing pulled from the temple of my head. the cloth unfurl its thinning psychic concentrate. Inan evolutive unfurling air billowing deep folds. The edges broke down, pulverizing theembroidery of a metamorphosing white trail of a veil in the wind and breaking away from myhead at the soft temple socket of an in-and-out easy gateway. The veil morphed with anongoing outbreak and spread of white feathers shaping the veil into the wings of a whitemessenger pigeon. wings taking flight in slow motion opening without a bird's body. Slowand in a single powerful wide spread lift, I was carried away with a sense of relieve andwithout a thought at the impressive spirit homing in on its soul.

    Be it a white dove that took flight from the tree-of-life out of a forest, my heart at thebodiless wings, which break-up feathers against the pastel blues of the sky. in an ongoingthinning spread to a school rafting of feathery down, I rose out of the atmosphere, conscious

    of emerging freer from the burden of my body as I took height. the initial joy grew explosivewhile transcending to a mere white flour Milky Way spill carried by a breeze, which left mewith a possessive joy at the touch of a whole conspicuous world with nothing to fear .

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    Resistance to control

    there came a period that I felt a vacuum of conscious returning to my apartment inLille. Thinking about this strange suicidal notion, I begun preparing for the jailbreak andstretched my body in all comfort on my bed. I started up concentrating, separating the

    elements of my existence. Gripped onto my psyche filling cauliflowerish my brain mypsychic the dose of impulsive concentration through the armature of the skull, and my brainthe virtual rotor element of a vacuum cleaner's electric motor. I held the nozzle of thesuction tube at my temple, concentrate, with a psychic sucking the volume inside my skinoccupied by my spirit I soon sensethat I was up against a spatial vacuumblown by my physical growthballooning years of growing up prior tobirth, with a psyche that had played afew interesting tricks at my body withan alchemist blending glairiv to give

    my bodily skin that latex and dollaspect where my spirit stows away incomfort.

    For amoment I held goodagainst the vacuumpressure with a fistof concentration inmy head, and soonthe motor of mybrain over heated,

    by the unrelenting suction at theelastic tenacious spirit's ill will to be drawn to my temples, and exit gateway.

    It didn't occur to change tactics, to imagine for a moment myspirit an insufflated vacuum, showing how short sighted I had been,against all expectation thinking that the atmosphere on earth is the ruleof our existence, rather than a physical element being ruled through thevacuum of space.

    My head under the pressure of the vise by my psychic determination, my impatiencetaking the better without giving the motor a rest. Before my head had cooled down, I madeanother all out effort while scheming through the next attempts. I begun revving the motor,and as before bounced back the little headway to figure out the collar of my neck and the

    volume of my body. I tried feeling the pinch of my Psyche in the corner of my temple againstthe elastic vacuum, which didn't allow to be bypassed. By my psyche I went out into thestretching through the diminished volume of my right arm anchored and pulled to feel theunyielding resistance. crawling further down to my wrist, an attempts at my hand in vain. Iturned to concentrate my efforts at the volume and tip of my index finger, without relentingits keep. As a last resort, I pinched from the inside what one does either less hygienic with abit of teeth and pulling each glove finger until the gloves slips off the hand. given the sameelastic on the latex glove of my skin, I came away from a Tug of War effort abandoning thebow tie marker of pulls and resistances at the gateway of my temple. I passed a moment tothink where I came from during my attempts seeming a long stretch of hours, and feelingthe burned-out mental exhaustion, I had one thought left; 'Starting again after a good sleep.'but, later on waking up disorientated to find twenty-four hours of my life had gone lost, butsprightly I had a thought about that suicidal pocket where I fell.

    Illustration turning the brain into a virtualvacuum cleaner:

    The symbolic cauliflower brain, in a fireworks ofthinking, inside and not shown armature of the skull,

    against the virtual mechanics of the red and blue[psychic} magnets, spining the rotor of the motor.

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    i Consider the psychic hands as the parasol able at pulverizing human living blessings and grudges that arehurled into space by the force of its ideas or, thoughts in other words the weather of goof or evil spells!

    ii Symbolic a brain, assimilating the pure white mental cloud from which emerges the holographic image of amental vision.

    iii I am emphatic about this esoteric bodily volume of the spirit's vacuum, delimited by a latex doll skin thatdisintegrates in trance until death dissolves which, equal the physical volume of the body.

    iv I'll get the link in due course with details over the glair of luminescent particles that form the base of matter.