The Jeweled Cog

Redemption Songs Part Four

Stuart Wilde

September 2005
 

Imagine redemption as a mysterious cog encrusted with fine jewels that hovers over your bed at night. Every time you think or act in a rotten way it clicks to the left and tightens a little, and every time you act benevolently to help others it clicks to the right and opens one more notch. It’s a race against time. The cog has to completely open a year or two before your die, because it is the jeweled lock to a door you are supposed to walk through. And once the door opens it will take you a year or so to figure it out.

If the door never opens you’re stuffed.

You’ll become earth-bound, not necessarily like a ghost clanking about some dank hallway in a spooky mansion, but as a spirit that never completed or got away. You’ll go to an earth-like Mirror World, call it the spirit world if you like, that is only a few yards away. You never leave the earth plane. You’ll just wind up in a world that is between the molecules of matter we see here. It will be exactly like your daily life: same trauma, same stress, same mother-in-law, same struggle, same lack of knowing, same lack of security, the same boring rubbish. It’s samey, samey….all the way to San José. It might be thousands of years before you have the chance to get back here to earth and un-stuff yourself.

Stories of instant enlightenment and guaranteed salvation, ascension and mass transcendence are for dippy ones that are easily controlled and fooled. On this spiritual journey there is no instant anything, no free ride, no instant redemption. You have to work and contribute to break free. The twenty-six dimensional hyperspace that surrounds us has a way of protecting itself, and you. If you stumbled in there accidentally you’d go raving mad in minutes. It is a bit difficult to explain, let me see what comes to mind.

Imagine you are walking across a floor slowly as if in slow motion. Your left foot is on the ground and your right foot is in mid-air about to take the next step. By habit you know where the floor is; it is flat say, and underneath you. But in a hyperspace the floor moves and your next step lands on the side wall, and your third step takes you across the ceiling and when you come to put your foot down one more time, the floor has gone off at an angle of 45, and it feels dangerous to step on it as you fear you will fall off. Meanwhile, the distant horizon that you are walking towards, turns inside out and it comes to you; now a part of that distance is on the end of your nose, and the trees are upside down and back to front. You can’t tell if you are walking towards the horizon or away from it, and you can’t tell which way up is right. You’ll think you are upside down and you try to adjust your position but just as you do so, the horizon disappears and in front of you is a vertical fold, like a pleat in a curtain. In that fold you are going backwards in time not forwards and you find yourself un-taking the last step you thought you took. You can’t remember if you ever took any steps or not.

Now imagine a cheery Presbyterian minister from Podunk, Arkansas, and he drops dead face down into his All-You-Can-Eat Denny’s breakfast. How do you take his soul (his consciousness) into a twenty-six dimensional hyperspace where he can’t even walk, where he would spiritually vomit in terror? Remember he thinks he knows everything. The Lord guaranteed him that he was right. He spent forty years on the pulpit telling everyone what his Lord said was right. How could you adjust what the man believes fast enough for him to survive? You can’t.

He needs an after-life that looks like his beloved Podunk. And if he needs the Lord to show up to bolster his belief patterns and help him feel secure (remember he just died with bacon in his hair, so he’s a bit disoriented), then some kindly spirit will come to accommodate him, hovering about a bit, radiating in the way he’d expect the Lord to radiate, until the man is convinced and he becomes settled.

How many eons would it take before you could entice the minister out of his Presbyterian heaven and show him there is no Lord? That it is all a concoction to control people’s perception and capture their spirituality to make sure they never escape—neither in this life nor in a Mirror World afterlife. How do you tell the minister that the Lord doesn’t really exist except in the minds of those that need a Lord in heaven to make them feel special? How do you tell the cheery minister who always believed he was squeaky clean and whiter-than-white, that in fact he was part of a forty-year deception, that granted him control over others while it fed his spiritual snobbery. He can’t know these things; it would crush him. Deep within he’s probably a half-decent bloke. It’s just he got towed around by the ghouls in this life; he is not ready to be de-ghouled. You couldn’t take him into a 26-D hyperspace for he would see before he is ready to see. The pain of it would be too much.

Do you see why the hyperspace denies us for a while anyway? It has to!

The trick is to allow others to believe whatever they want to believe, and if they need an ascendant master then agree. If they believe in Tibetan lamas, you can’t tell ’em a llama is a woolly being that wanders about and poops in the hills. You have to go with whatever they want. Of course, you will do exactly the opposite, you’ll believe in everything while not insisting on anything. If you watch that jeweled cog, you’ll soon realize that you don’t need an after-life in some dreary man-made spirit world, you can use the door to bounce yourself away.

Some of you have already gone without realizing it. The “being here” of life can be a bit solid and confusing. Some people are actually landed here, they believe in their penis, for example. It’s where they think their brain is. But there are loads of other people that left the earthbound state a long time ago. They are still alive but they straddle reality seeking higher things. There are the ones that are close to, or through the door, they just need a nudge to suggest to them what to do next.

© Stuart Wilde 2005
www.stuartwilde.com