Chapter 3 -- Mammon Unleashed
Lucinda CHENG
Rachel Lee tossed and turned on the bed in the past two days, she pulled out her magic diary and turned to a page from three years ago. It is noted, "The animal kingdom, the plant kingdom, the mineral kingdom, and the human kingdom are all part of the consciousness, and the sentient beings on our planet belong to the same origin on the tree of life, and they are also intertwined in consciousness. This is not controversial. But when people face desks and chairs, it’s energy facing energy. Money is something apart from the two, because it passed hands and drenched in the desires of billions of humans. (Collective thinking, called hive mind, Like the veil of the swarm, the value of Φ is higher than that of a group of senators in the capitol hill: decision-making efficiency is high, because as an individual the bee is much simpler.)
So, does Mammon have its own soul? "
After the Black Swan incident in March, what is the Fed doing to money? Last year, she watched the circuit break occurred right in front of her eyes. It had been a long two years since Archer’s Economical Apocalypse prophecy. She didn’t even recall it for a good two minutes. Then she jumped out of the bed.
The prophecy was erred on the time prediction for too long. As a magician, Acher's credibility in the details was not trusted this time. Macroscopically, the two distant events, the one he talked about and the one happening, seem to be related. This is what kept her from sleeping.
She asked herself again, does Mamen, who holds and pulls the desires of billions, have grown its own soul? This time her heart has tilted towards an answer.
Rachel Lee was practicing remote view in her backyard under the redwood shade. Mid-day Californian sun hit the back of her head, casting a translucent gold sheer to the wild red hair. Facing her closed eyes, the first two buds of Amaryllis Temptation has blossomed, one on each side symmetrically.
The red seems from the center of the pale white petals and renders the velvet white with red rims. Like the red tail paint on the back of a geisha’s neck, the only bare skin left from the cloud-like white kimono. -- there is power in silence, and there is power in constraining the inner flame.
The training today is to see the flowers two meters in front of her with eyes closed.
Every magician has their special talents and short sides. For Rachel, people and things reach her mind as abstract archetypes, she instantly understands them for what they really are; sights of events happening in other timelines in the future also flash in her mind, but she is not good at seeing or acting on what’s right in front of her in the material plane.
She seems to be sensitive to the cosmic happening from the center of the Field -- more of a priestess than a magician. But she wants to actualize her own will instead of a god’s will.
To be a real magician means you forge the Will like casting a sword in fire, act, and bend the reality. She believed being a magician is an empowerment and the cure to help the poor, the abused and the strayed. Those are the pits that she has mapped out. They have vowed to dig people out of the abyss.
Her initial excitement about the external world and Archer Norton’s “Apocalypse” narrative climaxed last year during the March Frenzy, where the stock hit circuit breaks just like he predicted two years ago.
Archer had been an insider of the magical circles. He took part of the great polemic and split between the two magical schools pre-2016. As he left the system, he asked Rachel to make that choice also.
Both of them were born into generational military families as defiants to order and obey. They distanced themselves from their families and chose the life of the vagrants’. But it seems that Archer wants to stay in the financial pit forever.
Rachel was in mid of a tiered magic course, like a rock climber, hanging in the mid of the mountain. As a delay strategy, out of the faith of the friendship, she paused the sessions, broke contact with Archer, and retreated to the most basic practices, tuning into the inner world.
Ten seconds under the sun, her internal world spun against the external world, like a gate of the vault, to the right. And Visuals appeared in forms of different shades of red-tinted shadows: A magician wearing a cap and boots jumps across the cliff like the “Fool” in tarot card 0. Flood runs over, high rises tank along the banks. A ship sails in the flood. A wheel looking like an alien version of London Eye with four spikes spins low in the sky.
She knew what it might mean, when the world spins right, at the moment where you merge with the cosmos. It is the cosmic language of “emergence.” into the manifested world. If it spins counter-clock wise, it means “winding back to the cosmic womb”, “back to the original energy that made it”.
But she didn’t put too much reading into the event.
She considered it as an occurrence in a paralleled universe that sent a shock through the web and reached her. Or, It might just be a heat stroke.
Coming back to the room, she saw in the news the flying wheel like the one in her shadow vision. Not a surprise, even that vision happens to San Francisco in 2021, as she is used to fragmental messages seeming through the cracks of the dome of her perceived reality.
Interesting. She thought.
The news went: “Orbital Corporation (OC), a manufacturing firm centered on the colonization of space, unveiled details about its ambitious Voyager Station, the first space station hotel rotating on artificial gravity.”
So the wheel over the deluge is a Four Seasons in the space. So the mammon’s puppets are overgrowing this low style into the space. “Mammon” is the word for the spirit of money. That’s how Ash, Rachel and Marlow address it in conversations about money.
It is a common habit among the members in The Solaris Temple: replace the material body with the spirit of what it actually is in all conversations, then you are clear in the head. Actually, they so want people to try it. Had they care a little bit more about being pop and liked by the mainstream, they’d achieved their political goal -- rewriting the base layer of the social consensus.
But paradoxically, none of them like Paris Hilton, some of them even hate money. The battle to win the mass has not been successful.
The phrase “colonization of space” pierced into Rachel’s heart like a spear.
Read further, OC is publishing this PR piece to raise funds. She felt a sense of relief. She has seen many of these space projects flashing their Sci-fi blockbuster to ask for money and never get built. This economy, the way money flows, from government subsidy to the musical chairs of funding rounds and stocks, is running on storytelling.
The sword in her, though not completed forged, started burning. The bard and musician in her came out. She fell into a reminiscence of the busking practice they did in Durham. Marlow, Ash, Gerber and her, performed for one hour on the street next to Museum 21. People placed coins in their caps.
They all played their magick.
Marlow rendered the space to the base chaos layer with some rare synth, to open the sphere for change.
Gerber rained down the drum beats that morphed like wind-shaping sands in the dessert, bells on a pagoda at afar, and waterway shape change over time -- a song of nature.
Rachel sang her poem about the seven seas in the outer realm filling her lagoon; Ash played along, with chords splashing astral light. -- the melody about the celestial beings and us on earth being parts of the same orchestra.
They changed some minds that night.
She quickly wrote down the poem, a 2021 version of Ginsburg’s Howling for San Francisco, and printed 50 copies of it. She couldn’t wait to immediately speak the flow in a free microphone session in the hectic Market Street just like before.
Solaris Temple absorbed a lot of vagrant underground artists. Rachel was drawn to the dynamic their arts emit, but she was not a fan of that lifestyle. She wouldn’t want to end up on the street like Archer Norton.
You would find Archer organizing techno concerts in rundown warehouses like the House of Wau in Denver, playing seek and hide with the police.
Archer and his friends are hardcore underground musicians that already decided to forego financial stability for their lives to keep the hummingbirds of their spirits out in the open.
Like the bards in old times, at nights, Archer looked for office buildings with open doors to sleep in their basements. Or he waited for messages from friends to see who has a vacancy for him to crash that night. This lasted for two years. The apartment in Denver was the first lease he holds at the age of forty.
*****
Out of the two high magicians in Solaris Temple, only one of them refers to himself as the “The Fool”, a level of spiritual attainment represented by the tarot card, the highest you can reach on the left hand path, the art, the understanding by intuition, and all things mercy. That is Archer.
The other one is “The Magus”, the highest you can reach on the right hand path, science, analytical mind, material abundance, and all things severe. This is Marlow.
The Fool is adventurous, daring to jump into new ventures, and acts on his intuition and understanding instead of knowledge and analytical mind.
Indeed, only Archer would be happily dancing around the sinking of the world. The punk rock, magician, and bank hacker -- as Marlow once has said, “put him in any situation he rides the wave without changing the countenance.”
Rachel went on to check the economic data and saw yields and inflation expectations collapsing all around, 10-year bond dropped to -4%, below the -3-0% norm. Something he didn’t see before even in the lockdown.
There is a liquidity crunch in the bond market. One that’s like Niagara fall vaporized and leaving the cliff dry like an open wound on the earth.
A great deal of shorts could not payback and was liquidated.
News broke out, the retail empires are collapsing:
“Mall owner Washington Prime Group preparing a potential bankruptcy filing as time runs out to avert a default after it skipped an interest payment on its debt. The real estate investment trust, which owns about 100 malls throughout the U.S.”
The inflation, which people did not anticipate to occur in years, is already here, hidden by the Fed’s data but it is pushing to the consumer ends. Manufacturer companies see hype in shipping fees that they haven’t seen since the 1970s. They expect the end-customers to pick up the bill.
The signs of inflation are everywhere but not in Fed’s charts. The unemployment rate broke record high during the Great Depression and kept going upward. Fed chair confirmed, they are to perpetual the QE infinity.
She shook up and recalled the conversation with Archer. Though he is bad at constructing a solution, he is right about the reality again. I wonder how is his barter economy experiment going on in Oklahoma, trading neighbor’s coffee with his music. Rachel remembered that’s how Ash lived in Denver. He taught music lessons or gave speeches on the occupy movements and some lessons in the occult, and the students brought him a slice of pizza.
As mentioned above, Marlow paid for Ash’s apartment in Denver for half a year through Solaris Temple. Surely this does not go on forever. Marlow already complained about the request for money came up in the first place.
He had said: “I knew him for 30 years and this is the first time money ever came up. It was never about that. Theodore called Ash’s mom to pull it together.”
No wonder Theodore was out. The Forbes 30-under-30 of 2018 slided off the rank like a meteor.
That was not the only deal-breaker this “connector” made. It is said that the grand “Transmusion” meeting Marlow threw $67k on was Theodore’s idea. For Jack told him the Alaskan elderlies had money; and the Alaskan elderlies thought Marlow was ready to invest in their vast land with thermal energy to mine Bitcoins. The breakup was not planned but collateral.
Half years later, Ash moved to Oklahoma to work on his album A23P and make a living on growing weed. “Money is a psychological ABSTRACT. The land is something real. The Jubilee is coming. Invest in the real things.” as he claims.
The density of his anarchist level, like black gunpower in a box, can blow us back into the stone age. The thoughts went through Rachel’s mind as she browsed through the chat log she had with Archer. Their chat stopped around October last year.
The conversation was about their stance and path in the world, the economic transition after the March fall, and where the future of money is heading towards. The friendship has grown sour after their last meeting in Moog Festival, Durham Carolina. Ash saw Rachel as a hidden pursuer of the path he wants to part way with, possibly a spy, and Rachel believed Ash’s aggression came from decades of drug use, and suspected he was on the brink of a mental split.
It left both of them unpleasant.
First, he refused to take money from Rachel to use his music in A23P for commercial purposes. “Monetary payments will not be accepted as a reason to depart from values.” he said, “Notably at this juncture in time when jubilee is to complete imminently.” but he asks specifically for cryptos as a payment for their jam session soundtrack, when Rachel asks it to use for an art installation.
Rachel: “Jubilee, the debt forgiveness?”
Archer: “for lack of better wording: The original jubilee was a year of the emancipation of slaves and restoration of lands.... remission of sins and also the punishment due to sin.”
Rachel: “Those who disagree with your anarchist Utopian vision are sinful?”
Archer threw a clip of Rick and Morty, where Rick blew off the Galactic Federation by setting their currency to 0. The clip goes:
Summer: ‘Grandpa, how will you end the Galactic Federation? Will you aim their two nuclear heads against each other?’
Rick: ‘Watch grandpa toppling an empire by changing a 1 to a 0.’ And the bureaucracy order collapse like a domino cascade into chaos. The fly-head boss shot himself in the head.
Rachel: “Doesn’t this mean money is the social stabilizer? Ok, there is one slim possibility that the dollar goes to zero. But I thought you were against the Biblical predictions, you called it the fabricated script. Isn’t it easy, to shift sides as it pleases where you stand?”
Ash: “as noted, magikally speaking: Οὐδεὶς δύναται δουλεύειν δυσὶ κυρίοις ἢ μισήσει τὸν ἕνα καὶ ἀγαπήσει τὸν ἕτερον ἢ ἀνθέξεται ἑνὸς καὶ καταφρονήσει τοῦ ἑτέρου δύνασθε δουλεύειν Θεῷ καὶ μαμωνᾷ”
Which translates to:
“No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else. He will hold to the one, and despise the other, men cannot serve both God and mammon.”
Rachel: “You are reading Mathew 6:24 wrong. Man can not serve both God and mammon -- men should not serve mammon, man should have the mammon serve him.”
Ash: “You come off as if you don't know what money is.”
Rachel: “I think it's needed. It’s an efficient way to exchange value and guide productivity. Otherwise, what imaginary utopia land you wish to build.”
Ash: “HA. Land isn't imaginary, but money is a centrally controlled psychological ABSTRACT. You think the imaginary is real and the real is imaginary. Anyways, Jubilee is on the way. The IOT, internet of things, or illuminate of Thanatos are coming. Thanatos also means poison by the way.”
Rachel: “You asked me for cryptos too.”
Ash: “I acknowledge the continued existence of the cult of mammon while jubilee works towards completion.”
Rachel: “So for you it's acknowledgment. For us it’s abomination cult behaviors.”
Ash ignored that and continued: “Toward such end, the FFuture of money is crypto, and the QE pushes the wave that direction. I do synthesis, I can work out basic darn math. I'm not that dumb. So yeah, I can see where the IOT is guiding the wave.”
Rachel: “The future of money: crypto or the Central Bank Digital Currency?”
Ash: “Central banks are dead. I don't take you as so naive and blind, Rache. Issuing Central Bank Digital Currency now, they handed their control over to the IOT, period, end of the story. Central Banks adhere to ‘In The Algos We Trust’, IOT controlled.
They are slaves, and hence dead, an illusion, zombie walking, basic frigging math. It's a centralized system. Pardon my French.
Do you really have no idea of how IOT works? How deep learning systems work?”
Rachel: “I just knew that it’s programmable money.”
Ash: “to be managed by what? Over 70% of global trades are now High-Frequency Trading, meaning A.I./M.I. (machine intelligence) controlled. Are you seriously this naive? I don't buy it.”
Rachel: “Then you are living in your head.”
Ash: “Notably with the company you’ve kept close with? I don’t buy it for a second.”
Rachel: “It’s just fate.
Every since Denver you’ve been bitter. It’s about Corvette isn’t it?”
Ash: “That man is from Swiss, his dad’s studio is literally called Thelema, and we had a conversation on crypto, he said, and I quote ‘these are not things people in the industry would like to hear about.’ and I gave that speech about magic history being distorted before the music show, he was there listening.”
Rachel: “Leave Corvette out of this. He does not know about magic at all. He doesn't talk to his dad about this. It was Marlow who explained what Thelema is to him.”
Ash: “How could you believe that? A high mason’s son does not know magic. I don’t trust any men who is in finance. And I cautioned all of you who enters the hall of Fintech. I did my part. All I care about is the world. IOT is in control globally when it comes to money. Period. Central Banks invoked and gave their power to IOT. Whole Enterprise did, globally.”
Rachel: “mmm, you said bots are dumb.”
Ash: “They are not moral. They are morally dumb; they're good at calculating. I'm pulling some things up, and you tell me what you see.
First, these are state/national markets. What do you see?
b2062ae4749c1b505191e6347791592
Do you see ‘random’? Do you see ‘free market’? What's that extended flat line there? What do you see?
Rachel: “I know you've said this before, bots.”
Ash: “oh yeah. so you think it's the central banks that are in control. *LoL*.”
Rachel: “What do you show me the stock market for? I’m not talking about the markets, I’m talking about the interest rates. Central Banks control that to control inflation. Macro.”
Ash: “Oh do they now? So they can control the bots they can't control through interest rates. That actually makes sense to you?”
Rachel: “huh?”
Ash: “How do you think they get their ideas on how to make interest rates? What do you think calculates things for them?”
Rachel: “The interest rates is set in auction deals I think, with institutional buyers and sellers. Check the repo market.”
Ash: “oh right, and the institutional buyers and sellers aren't using algos?”
Rachel: “idk. Auction.”
Ash: “right auction...... and what's guiding the buys and sells there? That's some really complex math that needs to be handled.”
Rachel: “Never seen reports or photos on that. idk if it's real auction like painting vintage auctions or what.”
Ash: “You were basically in the state of 1984 for ten years, with lots of surveillance and calculation. You think it's just somebody sitting at a desk looking at everything, and handling all that massive data, and processing it all at once?
Behold the robot-Cthulu..... and this is but a small small part, and they know you run with certain circles.”
Rachel: “Certain circles?”
Ash: “you don't just end up around Marlow, Corvette. You don't just end up with Twin-F. And the entire crypto sphere is highly occult. It's IOT magick. Period.
I will repeat myself only this once. FF. 66.... 60 and 6 aka Horus and Set aka Thamiel (Qliphoth), and I am done.
I'm not the one into mammon. You are.”
Rachel: “Shrug. And I will say this one last time, it’s all just fate and synchronicity chance meetings. I don’t work for any governments or entities.”
Ash continued: “It's not for me to know these cyphers.... you should know them better than I do. You're the one that is into the Baal-shite, feels it's ‘necessary’, so i hope you know what you call for. Mammon doesn't care about people. It's never been about that. You may want to study the history of money and find out what money is and how it works.”
Rachel: “How much crack did you have? You like giving people hats.”
Ash: “not giving hats. True, and that wasn't a word game. And i do find you nice, but also a mystery.... I do not feel I know the real you.”
Rachel looked at the phone and thought to herself, Ash is an asshole, confirmed. Marlow could not stand him for over two days, and I lose my cool after talking to him. It seems like he turned into the shredding machine mode towards me ever since our last meeting in Denver. And every time the phone rant lasts for two hours.
She dropped the phone -- almost forgot that the phone is tapped since their last talk, so are the apps on the laptop. Part of her family worked in the telecommunication section in the military. Her mom was chatting with her about how to sail in the storm called the heart and mind of a man, and the signals passed to her earphone.
Her mother: “Your phone is tapped.”
Rachel: “It’s ok. It’s not classified information that some men act more from their minds than from their hearts. But what we really should follow is our high spirit. Back off, NSA. Snowden is the man!”
On the other hand, Archer has a growing suspicion and anxiety about the entity that is reaching out to him through instant chat windows. They figured out another line of communication.
Immediately, Rachel took out one sheet from a pile of papyrus paper, pen and red ink from her magic weapon treasure box. Before she left to China, she had given Archer five of her papyrus sheets that they collected from a magick store during their trip to Memphis, Egypt. She kept the other half. They are made out of the same water plant stemming from one root.
She told Archer to always leave one between pages 10 and 11 of Book IV in Mutiny. I hope he took them with him when he moved to Oklahoma, She paused in a daze for a moment.
Papyrus sheets can make boats and flow in the water; water is the shared medium between humans and spirits. Yellow is the colour of divine connections. All the material has to be perfect to make the ritual work.
Quickly, in a single stroke, she drew two connected sigils with red ink on two sheets, so she did five times, chanting,
“Golden clock ticks with hundreds of tempos,
under God’s oculus,
worlds outside of worlds
mountain behind mountain
Holy water pours down to seven seas
and fills my lagoon.
Lord dwelling on the ninth sky,
Supreme Creator, passing the eternal electric fire,
Still and Motion,
Aware and Swirl.
Goddess of Chaos, the destroyer, storms under the order,
Goddess of form, the bearer, weaves the fabric,
With the fire and sound that is my life,
Now I bond you into PAIRS.
Entangle!”
She may have constructed the ritual based on some faint, basic ideas on quantum entanglement. It’s both magick and science.
This yellow paper with a red sigil, is now petitioned on her black wooden altar. She focused all her energy like a laser, burning through the paper leaving traces as written words, as she mutters,
“Awareness, Compassion, Spin and Emerge.”
Meanwhile, its twin paper somewhere either in Mutiny or Oklahoma, corresponds. We don’t know. Particles on that paper started to get excited and run in certain ways, burning out a trace -- her cursive, readable English.
Can we make it to the other end of the Deluge and make decentralized measurement and store of value for everyone?
She waits, moments later, one of the papyrus in that pile started to burn. The glittering orange burning line moves on the yellow paper like it’s alive, and left the words:
Take the Bart at Powell Street towards Balboa Park at 5:35. Wear a white linen robe, enter Cart number 3 after the train passes 16 street/Mission Street, and follow the Priest.
The Priest? She had never seen them outside of the Churches in Japan Town. She hopped into the car and drove north to San Francisco.
She parked the car at Marriot, put on a mask, and walked passing the financial district. The street is desolate, she was walking in a white linen robe. The atmosphere is somber and surreal, she passed between the 1920 style Art Deco office buildings, like a nun walking on the field after the battle had ended, passing corpses and torn flags.
The street is emptier than before. Homeless lining up the sidewalks, lying. There used to be more when she had to lift her foot and walk over them.
There are old syringes on the ground. Not sure if it is for heroin or crack. That was why they ended up on the street.
San Francisco is so liberal and lenient about it they give away syringes in the pharmacies, so they don’t get AIDS. It is worrisome. Where could they be during Covid? The shelter must be packed.
Bart, Bart should come on time even without the normal passenger flow. The pigeons are taking over the plaza. All the stores around it were closed. Glanced at the Gatsby-styled clock on at the center of the plaza, she quickly went downstairs to the underground. There are eight labels under that clock, stating the distance to reach these eight cities across half of the globe. She remembered seeing Istanbul and Vatican on it. They’ve always been there as a city art.
It was a Sunday, the train approached in time. She counted for the 3rd cart, and walked into the one following it. Nothing particular.
About five man wearing suits and backpacks entered the cart. Powell station is where all the banks are and this is how they dress. One of them moved further down to the next Cart.
One of them sat in the middle row next to the window, one of them sat at two seats behind; The rest scattered near the gate holding onto the handles.
A woman with a baby cart leaning at the pole and smiling at the baby; a young couple sitting across from the man in suit.
After passing the Civic Center, before reaching the 16th Street, the train went into a dark tunnel, and the light went out momentarily.
Rachel was sitting behind the couple since the train started. Now she stood up, and started walking towards Cart 3. At where the two carts connect, she dazed.
An electric shot went to her brain and numbed it. Immediately she turned around and dragged her legs towards Cart 5, where she saw the same scene:
A mom caring for a baby in the cart. Two suited men scattered in the front of the cart; Two suited men sitting in the middle and end section of the cart; And a couple across from them. All the same people.
At that moment, the train is approaching the station. She looked till the end of the train, passing every cart -- it is an infinite repetition.
Withholding tears, she turned around again, and walked to Cart 4, Cart 3.
The moment when she stepped on the connecting section between 4 and 3, a woman in a white linen robe was also walking towards her, passed her.
As she enters where she came from, the train stopped. The train never reached 16 and Mission Street.
It stopped at Rome, the Vatican City.
During the 33 days:
Albino Luciano was a humble man from Belluno. He kept a distance with the Vatican before he took the office as the Pope. Before he took office, Vatican has incorporated its financial department and grown the Vatican Bank’s balance sheet to a significant $125 billion dollars. Much of it came from dubious trading in international money markets in New York, Tokyo, Milan.
Albino Lucinani, the newly elected John Paul I, opened two investigations on the banks; planing on removing the Cardinal of Chicago, John Cody, mafia, and the God’s bankers.
Licio Gelli, the Il Burattinaio stated his interest in removing their threat, Pope John Paul I. During a conversation with Calvi at Burenos Aires. He was organizing a power return to General Peron.
Michele Sindona serves in New York Federal Prison, facing Italian government’s charges of fraudulent diversion of 225 million dollars. A 3-year battle to get him extradited. Federal Judge ruled in May that the extradition should be granted.
A hitman, Luigi Ronsisvalle was hired for his cases. The professional hitman threatens the life of the witness, Nicola Biase in Sindona’s extradition case, and took a contract on the life of assistant US attorney John Kenny, for 100,000 dollars.
Roberto Calvi is stealing over one billion dollars from the Bank of Italy, and the Bank of Italy has been investing Calvi’s Milan Bank.
Pope John Paul I’s investigation into the Vatican Bank made him realize, to probe one of these financial empires is to probe both.
Rachel under Ash’s help, traveled back to the night before John Paul I’s death. She exchanged her identity with his assistant, Sister Vincenza.
Upon several tries, she saw the figure of a Swiss guard left the Papal bedroom and disappeared into the staircase.
This is a monumental event like the meeting point on railway tracks. There is a list of figures who aspired to change the distribution part of the economy. This is one of them.
Ash showed Rachel this event hoping to wake her up to the truth that mammon, the spirit of money is not tamable; the only way to freedom is to leave it.
Sunday, back in San Francisco.
Under the clock with 8 labels of cities’ names on it, with the dense drums from the street artists beating a tin bucket, falling like jazzy raindrops, with the black artists' band around the corner playing chords and sung the soulful hymns that you don’t hear in records, people gathered around a podium, listening. Flyers of a long poem titled Howling is pinned on the banks around the Powell Station.
A woman in white linen robe covering her shoes, stood on a podium and spoke to the crowd:
“The best storytellers and artists of our time are holding tears inside. They sing for the mammon, the spirit of money. And they know it. The signed pop singers, the copywriters in advertisement firms, the playwright for industrial movies bear this moral cross everyday. They saw where Google and the Alphabet companies use their artificial intelligence and they knew it; the algos are applied to drones that fly over Afghanistan and bombing the Arabs and other undisclosed national classified enemies. But who are the enemies? Families behind the bombarded walls weeping, how are they different from your neighbors in Mountain View? Enemies to who, other than the spirit of money, now petrodollar, the mammon.
Until they break that capsule, through mankind collectively knowing how to deal with or without or tame mammon, mammon will continue making our spirits weep, like since the beginning of the time. The hummingbirds are caged.
Apes, we remain apes while the most talented and free spirits among us are on the leash holding by a demon.
For the torches are lit in the web of the living consciousness of Gaia that we are part of.
The Goddess weaves four fabrics into one, the animal kingdoms, the plant kingdoms, the mineral kingdoms and the human kingdoms, into the Gaia Earth.
The consciousness is the water wave, our body and mind are the boats. The wave comes to us, and speaks, sings through us.
The torches, the nectar of human creativeness flows in the web and elevate everyone in it.
The artists who stay true to their hearts have turned underground.
Now the free spirits are suffering, we stay down as apes for centuries, the under evolved apes want to take this mindset of colonization into the space.”