MOONOSITY
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On Weltschmerz and the Mimic

November 13th, 2020





As of late, something has been gnawing at me, irritating me, and that is the hypocrisy and lack of willpower of mainstream leaders. It does not matter whether they call themselves liberal or conservative, they are still made of the same coin! Every time, without fail, there is always a pattern with them. They will begin their rise as the avant-garde, perhaps with good intentions even, but over time power corrupts if the individualís willpower and dedication to his eternal virtue is poor.

Many believe they are ready for such power, but gradually as they acquire it, they forget power and are consumed with control. Control and power are not the same thing, for while control is the maintaining of a state, power is the free will that defies all surrounding influences. Control, rather, is a method of power, but a debilitating one that locks the individual in fear and paranoia.

The only thing that could ultimately come out of control is the individualís own demise, which he will secretly desire to end the nightmare he has summoned. But he will never tell you that, because in reality it is change that he fears the most above all else. To fear change is to fear life itself! For how else could the Seasons and the very cells in our body not only survive but thrive and replenish itself? Control is truly the death of the individual, oh but he will feign that till the end! He will carry on with his flesh falling off his bones and his eyes sunken in, consuming all that his forever empty vessel yearns to fill!

Justification after justification, he lies to himself about his own deeds and responsibilities, telling himself that he indeed had no choice in his own animalistic impulses; for how could he when his Ego detaches from his Self every time he is triggered to be reminded of his own darkness? Naturally he will find something suitable that allows him to feel okay about his poor choices, where addictions replace God, his ‹bermensch.

You see, it is not a war on the outside between countries, between races, between ideologies and ideas! The seed of this war began and will end with the individual, with his own darkness being exposed by the light of truth. Is that not how we get rid of mold, by subjecting it to the Sunís light? But until then, the World cries her Weltschmerz! The Earth Mother wants him to come back to the soil, to remember who he is and what he really stands for. The Sky Father wants him to not sink in misery as a victim, and so he pulls him upward to stand strong and tall on his own two feet.

But it is ultimately up to the child to decide what he wants to do, on what he chooses to do. As Iíve said before, he must will it, not let others compel him one way or the other.

Alas! He forgets his own will and believes himself to be the subject of a cold World where his fire can only be kept alive by stealing the tinder and fuel from others. But he has forgotten that honest love, the kind of love that you donít expect anything in return from, the kind of love that makes your heart (not your stomach) flutter. Does not this kind of love give you warmth too? Sure, any sort of method will give you warmth, I suppose, but this honest love I speak of is a renewable energy supply because it does not depend on others to make you feel powerful. You generate this energy within your own Self, a wheel that keeps going if you let it run!

But the force that jams those gears is the ever-persuasive Mimic that whispers behind every addiction, behind every false identity and every easy, unconcerned outlet! It tells you that it is okay to let your virtue slip a little bit just this one time . . . just this one time, it says! You deserve it, after all, for all of the stresses of life pressing upon you. Enjoy it, and be happy . . . happy . . . happy . . .

Just as so, the move the globalists seem to be attempting is to compel the Western man to develop a fluid, plastic identity, in effort to make him more Asian. But I don't think it is the Chinese in particular behind the curtains rigging the complete show. It is only their strategy being employed by a force that mimics everything else. That Mimic is called Bhógaván, the spirit that rejects its own self to escape into everything else. That spirit is the ultimate self-mortification, and an individual infected with this is an entirely detached soul. This spells for a great, radical polarity between God and Devil by which the tightrope that the Human walks upon completely vanishes and he must choose either the Heaven above him or the Abyss below him.

And here we also meet the Spirit of Gravity, the Devil that weighs down the beautiful and imposes self-mortification under the guise of "I shall", versus the Sky God who thunders "I will!". Reverse the Spirit of Gravity, and you have its antithesis: anti-gravity. What does this indicate? It indicates that the tightrope which the Human walks upon is not in fact needed at all. It is an imaginary need we have developed to maintain dependency upon the system, to make procrastination okay.

The real working mechanism here at play is utterly oneís will. The bridge the tightrope walker walks upon is simply a softer illusion than the Abyss below it, yet not so bright and clear as the luminaries that dance above. This bridge dwells in the realm of mists and fog, under the black thundercloud that discourages the heart of Man. It keeps Man on some kind of footing to maintain his balance within society, within the system, under the sway of the establishment; yet it is what keeps him bound to these chains for much longer than he actually wants. Man secretly desires excitement, a breath of fresh air, a change! but Time is his ultimate enemy!

There, the question of when prevails above all other questions. When will the world be a better place? When is God going to bless me? When will suffering finally end? When will my time finally come around?

The Mimic tells you promise after promise, always to be something you had your greatest hopes for, but never exceeding your expectations. Just adequate enough to satiate you, child. But the ‹bermensch tells you as a real father would: if you donít get up right now and keep climbing up the mountain, you will die!



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