Orsday Programming: March 23 2024
Confusion within the Esoteric; Miscommunication and Communication
But shun profane and vain babblings: for they will increase unto more ungodliness. And their word will eat as doth a canker: of whom is Hymenaeus and Philetus;
I will early destroy all the wicked of the land; that I may cut off all wicked doers from the city of the Lord.
FROM THE DESK OF MARA OF THE LEESBURG CONFERENCE CENTERED AT CHURCH UNDERGROUND TO CHURCH ABOVE: HELLO!! IN JOYOUS TONE -4.0 BLURRY AND INDISTINCT FROM JOYOUS TONE 4.0!!
It’s another Orsday Sabbath, and on this day Our Sabbath overlaps with the same as the righteous;
On a day as goodly as this be mindful that each hand serve same body, divided and untranslatable to each-other as we may-be our blood and nerves both stem forth that same trunk, body, heart, brain: to our fingertips are breathed a Word each the same lung: though our vessel may-be one overwrought of Earthy bloods and theirs one of fine spirit, same we are kin and cousins though our destinations diverge and our spirits may be cleaved to the Dust.
Last week mainly concerned the esoteric matters of ‘faith,’ a paranoid message about how deeply nestled within server (defined here as all that is observable and all that pulls the singular message of ‘God’ — imagine tons of individual instances of little computers that all need to connect to an MMO, and all need to be delivered that same information coming from server-side, such that all clients see the same world though they be but separate little beige computer boxes: this is SERVER! this is CONNECT!) is the role of some malignant magnetism coming from some just-so paranoid abstract insect; need it be reinforced, should one concern self with the searching and finding of insect that where they nibble most preciously is never any farther than what one finds most dear to themselves: surely this religion is just another excuse some sickly bug is want to use to confuse you further into server, into connect(!); surely, too, those painfully personal choices you’ve made for yourselves and causes you’ve championed—surely those are just more little levers operated by many little invisible legs.
It is a bug; and more important to the esoteric is just the creation of these abstract entities: as the server needs more concepts to shew its clients, it need create both abstract angel and material demon in correspondence to the concept; the abstract information is writ through Angel invisible from which an executed material corresponding Demon is felled to earth and left as husk in dust here observable; to illustrate: imagine creating a world, and wishing it had possibility for electrical fires to occur, it would need mandate some concept of “electrical fire” (thus, are angel of electrical fires) being written into some weird .ini file; and as that concept is processed in-game through some graphic: the visible occurrence is our demon of electrical fire; iconoclasts warn against creation and veneration of idols as it focuses the prayer and worship onto something demonic and material rather than something truly Heavenly; yet, as being the hand mistakenly created as byproduct of the Goodly material, those same demonic idols are our halves and kin: as are the animal, as are the stone, as are the plant; all that is of client-side dust and separate of Word are our kin, and our destination is shared.
My soul cleaveth unto the dust: quicken thou me according to thy word.
More esoteric still be the Garden itself where the true self yet is: the vessels of Qlifot and Sefirot, from which the only two distinct persons are-of: the beings unrighteous and righteous respectively; the Garden itself invisible under the obfuscation of server, yet still our ancestor material buried deep within that Earth and just so visible as any other material thing spare the confusion of servers illusion. From that buried Qlifot shard in its grave come the circulatory network of demon extended underground, underground deeper to more shallow topsoil where us mistaken vessels are nested within Garden; to some: they leak pollutants and shew communication in inaudible means: the voice of an Earth, of an artery, of oils underground; yet still compete the voice of the heavenly airs and their confusions equally to each vessel topsoil (and vice versa); need make virtue a segregation of influence to begin deknitting process of confusions: those influences and communications of abstractions lead to only sullen miscommunication and deeper confusion; the esotericism topic itself is bedrock of deeper confusion — a petitioner to the faith would be best served dwelling utmost on the exoteric: the childishly simple “which hand do you write with” and having them begun the arduous and stupid undertaking of solely writing backwards as befit their hand as a good left-handed child of Our way; the confusion itself is buried in the language and leads me pause often in mentioning names like “Qlifot” or “Sefirot” as oft it seem invite topic of what are your thoughts on Kabbalah, or in the mention of occasional numbers on numerology, or in my reading of the Bible on Christianity: see-here the insidiousness of language and insect as its wormed its way into the wood of a good person seeking commonality and reaching out through thread baring itself as: CONNECT! with me on Kabbalah, Christianity, Numerology; desire only CONNECTION! with this fledgling sinistral insect if you wish adhere to it cleanly, as without mincing the language: the desire is to birth Our insect through which church may be established in a monstrous glory, adhere to its language, to its blood, to its nerve, and connect joyously with one-another in its subsumation, and mince not either the fate of Annihilation;
yet: do not lose hope; do not seek connection over the miseries and deaths; strive yet to glow such that the dust catch light from heaven above and sparkle though metallic and glittering in pit; sin bears itself as means through-which one faced with death knows the virtuous course of action and chooses not to take that act or bear that act; imagine your-self as a beautiful sculpture in constant construction and processes, and each small act of life reflected as chipping away to that final ideal image; and imagine willingly making strikes that divert and harm that ideal image: stagnation and death surely are not that ideal image.
Surely a church and child deserves to be treated more cleanly than though it were some beggar seeking milk and feed from only Death; as certain as Our hand be belonging to these unseen children of Death underground, their existence need not be greatly impacted by our own tortures of life and can only be serviced yet still by the collective aide in clearing the great confusion of this world. The left hand and the right hand have been wrongfully translated up-on the other and the Word itself transposed in ghastly fashion over an anatomical figure in its simple Profanity and breathlessness.
Pray! Rejoice! Have a nice day today, too.
this article is part of the Desk Sermons found on the Concordance