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U TEBI JE SVE ZNANJE,MUDROST I RAZUMIJEVANJE

U TEBI JE SVE ZNANJE,MUDROST I RAZUMIJEVANJE
Zašto odmah ne započneš primati svoje duhovno nadahnuće i vodstvo iz prve ruke, a ne preko nekog drugog? Zar ne shvaćaš da je u tebi sva mudrost, sve znanje i razumijevanje?

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           Zašto odmah ne započneš primati svoje duhovno nadahnuće i vodstvo iz prve ruke, a ne preko nekog drugog? Zar ne shvaćaš da je u tebi sva mudrost, sve znanje i razumijevanje? Ne trebaš ih tražiti vani, moraš samo naći vremena, umiriti se i ući duboko u sebe da bi ih pronašao. Nema ničeg ljepšeg ili vrijednijeg od kontakta sa Mnom, izvorom svega stvaranja. To samo znači da moraš naći vremena i ako je potrebno stvoriti ga. Moraš doseći stupanj na kojem si uvijek svjestan Mene i Mojeg božanskog prisustva, gdje si spreman unijeti Mene u sav svoj život i hodati i razgovarati sa Mnom, dijeleći sve sa Mnom i  svoje uspjehe i neuspjehe. Kad tvoja ljubav poteče i bude jedno sa Mnom, više od svega ćeš željeti dijeliti sve sa Mnom.

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  • 19.08.2024. 20:38h

    Član emilio-iiMerlin0

    Kad sve ovo zbrojimo mi bi se mogli i izuzeti iz "svega" !?

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDzXIqwQhS8

    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dK_Vaco7h8c

    * “Tony was at a Tibetan Buddhist event in Teotihuacan—he
    knows the Dalai Lama, you know—and it was the Vernal Equinox.
    There were 100,000 people gathered there at the pyramids.
    Because of this ‘spirituality,’ that’s really just fake and egotistical,
    the intent of this mass anthropomorphized the form of an inorganic
    being onto the negative. Tony is weird! All kinds of strange things
    happen to him, but this is the weirdest one yet! He photographed
    don Juan’s most important secret teaching—he caught on ɹlm a
    voladore, or ɻyer.
    “Don Juan told me this information was too dangerous, too
    volatile, to make public—but Weird Tony’s photographs are the
    omen that Spirit wants me to tell you this: we are being eaten. I’ve
    told a lot of you without telling you everything.” Carlos shot a look
    in my direction. “I’ve told you that we are food. That we
    are … chickens! That’s right! Coño! Qué horrible! Monstrous!
    Something is eating our awareness, all day, every day, even in our
    sleep. These are the beings don Juan named the ɻyers, or
    jumpers.”
    He handed around a stack of black-and-white 8- x 10-inch prints.
    Against a background of pyramids and mountainous scenery with
    an enormous crowd below was a black being an inch long and half
    an inch in diameter in the sky. Its features were not precise, only
    its shape, and it looked like a gargoyle on a medieval temple,
    wings open, arms and body in a backwards arc. It looked
    malevolent and, I thought, a little fake. But I was certain Tony
    Karam would never fake a photograph. (When the pictures were
    shown at workshops, some attendees remarked that it looked like a
    blurry piece of dust. I thought it had more personality than a piece
    of dust ever could.) Our class gave a collective shudder, and I faked
    mine. This thing looked cartoonish to me, and Carlos’ sci-ɹ
    philosophies had never attracted me. And yet, Carlos swore, this
    was don Juan’s most important secret, revealed at last.
    Carlos continued his explanation. “The ego—the ‘I, I, I,’ the ‘me
    me me’—is caused by the ɻyers eating us. Our sheen of awareness
    should be an oval egg-shaped covering, surrounding our body. But
    it has been chewed down to our toes. Think of the owners of a
    chicken coop. They really don’t care for the well-being of the
    chickens! They just raise them and eat them—and that’s how the
    ɻyers are with us. If one chicken escapes they don’t waste all their
    time chasing it down to bring it back. A few of us might escape, by
    doing the magical movements and the recapitulation. I can’t save
    you! But without me, you don’t even have a chance.…” I
    remembered my ɹrst reunion talk on the phone with Carlos. He
    had told me to suspend disbelief, and to consider that we are
    “food,” because “this is a predatorial universe.”
    “Man is being exterminated,” he went on. “There’s NOTHING of
    our own in our minds! We have FLYER’S MINDS. The mind, to a
    seer of energy, has a pendulum-like, back-and-forth motion—that’s
    the ɻyer. They make us morose, depressive; they ɹll us with kinky
    sexual thoughts—all masturbation comes from the ɻyers. And we
    don’t even like our own genitals! That’s the ɻyers, too. They make
    us frigid. Maybe they have some kind of tool that destroys the
    energy, and only the nagual can ɹx that. And
    luhhhvvvveee … that’s the worst thing of all, human love.” Carlos
    imitated a stoned hippie strumming a guitar. “It’s a ɻyer trick,
    looking for ‘love,’ but we just replace one head with another,
    changing all the time! That’s not love.
    “Because the mind is nothing more than this—a foreign
    installation—it agrees with itself! None of our questions come from
    us—they’re all from this thing that possesses your mind. You talk
    yourself into everything. And everything is ɻyer, ɻyer, ɻyer! I saw
    The Seven-Year Itch with Marilyn Monroe recently. I couldn’t
    believe it! Why was she so popular? She’s such a stiʃ version of a
    woman. It’s the Flyers at work.
    “The most important secret is this—don’t try to be creative. It’s
    impossible. There is no such thing as art. No one has ever had an
    original thought. I knew a guy who told me, ‘I want to make real
    movies from my real self.’ That’s absurd! He can’t do that, then
    he’ll have an audience of one! No one will distribute real art,
    never. They only allow you to see what the critics approve, so it’s
    already been previewed by them. When we think we’re getting to our
    REAL SELF, that’s just another layer of Bobby the Flyer. I call them
    ‘Bobbies’ because that’s a little boy’s name, a little boy in shorts.”
    I wondered how Carlos accounted for the popularity of his
    works, literature that had made a generation consider something
    beyond the visible in our lives.
    Carlos then described the mechanics of the ɻyers’ eating. “ ‘But
    how do they eat us, don Juan?’ Don Juan answered me, ‘With their
    fat, ɻat tongues.’ The ɻyers are as big as buildings, and they walk
    along the ground. They slide, and swoop, and they love cities—
    Buenos Aires is their homeland! There is a higher concentration of
    ɻyers in Buenos Aires than anyplace else on Earth. The only
    country they don’t inhabit is Ireland. They are installed in the
    mind between ten and twelve years of age. They like the dark, and
    they like men better. They lick us as if we were ice-cream cones.”
    It upset me to hear him talk about the ɻyers to the young
    Candice, who Carlos said didn’t have the ɻyer’s mind attached yet.
    “The installation is like that of an octopus. With a dry surface it
    attaches ɹrmly, and can’t be removed. But we’re letting a little
    moisture in there, so there’s a little slippage. Candice asks me,
    ‘How many tentacles do I have loose now?’
    “ ‘Three.’
    “She says, ‘Well, if I work really hard maybe I can get another
    one loose.’ ”
    Then he entered into an arena that disturbed me more than all
    the rest of his commentary. He began by telling us, “When the
    ɻyers took us over, they taught man that you’ve got to fear God,
    you have to plead and beg for forgiveness, and have to look up to
    some big entity. The ɻyers were especially strong in the Middle
    Ages, when the Church controlled everything.” (Taisha had told me
    the opposite about the Middle Ages—that mankind was actually
    freer then.)
    “Even today, Catholics and others are in the mode of
    supplicating, begging for things. Don Juan said it doesn’t work
    that way. You command It. If you start begging It for something,
    most especially if you say, ‘Please don’t let X happen!’ then it surely
    will—X WILL HAPPEN TO YOU. It will make it happen. So if
    there’s anything you don’t want to happen, don Juan would say,
    ‘Don’t beg!’ Don’t say what you don’t want to happen, mierda! It
    slams people who are in a supplicating mode.”
    I still believed there was a way to pray without begging. Once I
    asked Taisha her opinion of the classic book of Christian
    mysticism, The Cloud of Unknowing, which had given me hope
    during my darkest period of expulsion from the group. “Whatever
    quiets the mind is good for us,” she had replied. I often turned to a
    favorite quote: “Because it is not what you are nor what you have
    been that God looks at with his merciful eyes, but what you desire
    to be.”
    Once, as we sat on my rooftop, she commented that it was safest
    to be “high up, away from the band of human thought that infects
    us, where the ɻyers have a harder time reaching us. They don’t like
    us to be up in trees or oʃ the ground for prolonged periods.”
    On three occasions I thought I saw ɻyers.
    Leaving a New York workshop, I saw in the airport what looked
    like a black lump sitting on a man’s shoulders. Carlos solemnly
    conɹrmed the vision, but wouldn’t say more.
    The second time was in Guido’s oɽce. I heard him walking
    around and went to say hello, but there was no one there, only a
    shadow moving on his wall, yet there were no windows. Carlos
    was much impressed by this second manifestation, and told the
    class.
    The third time, I saw a shadow pass slowly under my bedroom
    door. I jumped up, but there was no one. I ran to the phone to call
    Carlos.
    “Was it a ɻyer?” I asked, frightened.
    “Of course, you freak of nature! Cojuda! What do you think it
    was, a ghost?”
    At the end of his life Carlos had a vision. He saw that there was a
    form of inorganic life beyond Bobby the Flyer, called “Seymours”
    because they ate advanced practitioners who could “see more.”
    Seymours were long, spindly, stick-like ɻyers who slipped under
    doors and between cracks and into one’s soul. He saw that there
    were more layers of danger than he had imagined. No one in our
    group besides him was truly free. He became increasingly avid on
    the subject, trying to fulɹll his last duty by revealing “don Juan’s
    most vital secret knowledge.” *

    Inače mi več i jesmo ali još  nismo Osvijestili TO što Jesmo ?!

    Ovo je pak klasičan primjer onoga "razum je dobar za popisivanje stvari ali ne i za njihovo shvačanje" tojest kako daju "službena objašnjenja" a ovamo ne osječaju ni svoju ljudskost ?

    https://www.jutarnji.hr/vijesti/hrvatska/inspekcija-zabranila-gradnju-hidroelektrane-na-uni-15493520

    Inače se je gotovo radilo o "ubojstvu u pokušaju" s time da nitko neče odgovarati pa ni za narušavanje djevičanstva ??

    Mi po svemu sudeči več odavno imamo "umjetnu inteligenciju" tako da če najnovija transformacija iči gotovo neprimjetno ali i eksponencijalno ???

    Dakle ako Kraljevstvo nije u nama onda je Djavolo in me odnosno i što je to što neki izvaljuju na usta pa i povazdan !0'0!

    Kako se obraniti od svih tih niskosti i pod visokim pokroviteljstvom....... pa valjda gubljenjem ljudskog oblika a ne reagovanjem/odražavanjem naše egomanije

    A bi li To zahtijevalo i gubljenje preostalih i materijalnih uporišta pa kad nemamo ništa onda nemamo što ni braniti i ne bojimo se ničega pe čemo i vidjeti ili i biti na konju a ne konji......

  • 19.08.2024. 21:50h

    Član bglavacMerlin23

    Prijedlog od Emilija!

  • 19.08.2024. 21:51h

    Član bglavacMerlin23

    Prijedlog od Emilija!

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