IX. Peacock Scroll:
Extra, extra, read all about it…
As the pocket watch of time sways, I fall into a slumber, the alarm clock begets the trigger, and I awake away from my dream world and into this hypnosis called “Real World”; ever changing by the traumas of surprises that mimic the hypnotist’s finger-snaps & commands, and bends me into a new being; a new creation, every day, forever and after. God is the hypnotist, this world is the pocket watch, and I am the case study, who studies myself, case by case.
Well then, enough of the poeticism. Leave it there and forget it with the spell-books of the past that are nothing but smoke & silhouettes of burning pages and witches, that everyone here & now will soon, too, be.
So act accordingly.
God, I am brooding today. Moving onward and up, we hope.
Spiral swirls and a swaying watch;
Tryptophan and a sleepy conscience.
Trauma surge, so mote it be,
A neutral happening that changes me.
There is something about feeling dark, which I do today, that makes me want to prick a pinhole into my reddened heart and drip the blood of poetry onto this paper, but I will refrain to save the mess, and especially the clean-up.
This tale #9 is called Peacock Scroll. It is a rather simple tale, perhaps even a throw away tale. But I wanted to mythologize the curse of social media, so why not use a few divine looking peacocks that do not see that they are Divine. Here’s an exerpt, and then I will move along:
[1] Once upon a time in a timeless state of mind, there was Jack, the Pumpkin Headed Son of Earth, on a peacock farm. A pack of peacocks sit and stare in a deep trance at a hung-up scroll on a wall that is in a constant state of unraveling. Among the scroll are symbols and words that pass on by – the current is a smiley face.
Peacock 1: [2] Oh, look how happy that one is.
Peacock 2: [3] I wish I was that happy.
Peacock 3: [4] I will never be that happy.
Jack: [5] Does one really think that staring at a scroll on a wall all day will deliver one to happiness?
[6] A sad face scrolls on by.
Peacock 1: [7] Oh, look how sad that one is.
Peacock 2: [8] It makes me so sad to see this.
Peacock 3: [9] I am so, so sad.
Jack: [10] Fools! You peacocks are being played just like a harp!
The scrolling is a hypnotist’s pocket watch, and you are consenting and caught by the consuming illusions that trick your mind into submission.
I’ve been really contemplating hypnosis, and why it is even possible for a man to be swept away by the hypnotist and his magical tricks. And I’ve come to the conclusion that the only reason it may be possible is because hypnotism mimics life.
The hypnotist sways the pocket watch, which is the focusing instrument that diminishes your peripherals, aka the world around you. The pocket watch sways. What is this sway? It is a left to right, a back and forth, a consistent movement of polarity – left, right, left, right. But the direction is no matter, it is the back and forth of polarity that dozes you off. What is this world but up, down, up, down, up and down – gently hypnotized by the pocket watch of life that comes in many forms. You are focused on an incident of the past – there go your peripherals – you are hypnotized by it. An illusion of the future? You are focused-in and hypnotized by it. I would say the present moment is the saving grace, but it is not. What are you fixated on? What is triggering you to be angry? To be sad? To feel joy or to feel glad? The pocket watch. Whatever pocket watch it may be that you are focusing in on is what transforms you in that moment, much like the hypnotist turning you into a dog on four legs that barks.
Do you get triggered? What difference is there then when a hypnotist snaps his fingers and changes you? What is that snap? It is a shock; a trigger; a surprise – and life is full of them. Let us call ‘traumas’, also, a hypnotist’s finger-snap. So, when the hypnotist surprises you with a snap of his fingers, you are changed. When a trauma surprises you with a snap of the finger of God – you are changed; for good or for worse. All is opinion. Life is basically just God constantly snapping his fingers that burgeons a transformation in you – so mote it be. It is a consistent happening, and even a daily one if you have a keen eye for the ‘loud subtleties’, as I call it.
Even in a broader sense, the world is transformation because All is opinion. The opinion is a focus (pocket watch), and that focus is your present reality. You will find the evidence to support whatever your opinion is, and so that is hypnotic in itself, because you believe that it’s real and true, although, you make real and true whatever you want to believe is real and true, even when it is not real and true to someone else – and they are right too. And therefore, all is illusion – like the man hypnotized by the hypnotist to speak with the tongue of an alien.
I am becoming lazy.
Final point is why does the hypnotist have to put the person to sleep first? Why does this mimic life; why is that a thing? I’m not sure I have the answer to this. Perhaps it is a reset, sort of like how our night of rest is a reset for the day before. Perhaps every day is, in fact, a clean slate. What will the new hypnosis be today? How will I transform? I don’t know the answer to this. Something to think about yourself.
And don’t forget to buy my book:
Jackism, The Fairytale Relgion
Strength & Honor,
JackOBat