The Deductive Foundations
introduction to the narrative of the voyage of the bloody, snake chariot
If you’re really seeing, understanding modern cosmology - you’re tripping hard.
In the shaking, visionary experience one sees that all of nature’s forces and material constituents – are one; that the universe’s containers of space, time, and matter are not rigid, fixed, or determinate, but are vital, dynamic, malleable constructs dependent on one’s state of motion and observation; that space and time are not an inert backdrop on which the events of the universe are staged and play themselves out, but are instead intimate players and actors in microscopic, and astrophysical events. One comes to understand that there are more dimensions than meet the eye; that every moment has an infinity of possibilities; that reality is a song played on the super-stringed instrument of the universe, and we play the super-stringed instrument – as it plays us.
If you’re really seeing, understanding Qabala - you’re tripping hard.
In the covenant with the mystery of the supernatural, indeterminate aleph life force, one rises up from the containers, the boxes of the static, death/life denying repetition. One rises up from the busy world of death in life, of business-as-usual. The Aleph power moves inside transforming our defining containers/boxers into fluid membranes that nurture and complement the life force instead of suffocating and killing it. It is about the trans-valuation of time in the here of our moment. It is about being an Is-ist in the Is-ism. It is about being a passer-by with, and sharing in the primordial solitude of Gnostic, Qabalic Yeshua ben Yoseph.
This book, this unfolding quantum possibility is nothing less than the quest for the true human vocation, of finding the true, original relationship of the human with the mystery that surrounds and pervades the universe, the human condition.
This book is about tripping hard.
It begins October 30, 2003 with the last voyage of my father’s vehicle, The Bloody, Snake Chariot. I continue my career as a passer-by as I write this high in the Rocky Mountains as I prepare to journey to and through Mexico, and wherever else I go.
I wintered in Chiapas, Mexico in 1997. I am passing-by for the 12th anniversary of the Zapatista Revolution. My feet are my only carriage. The way to Chiapas is open, indeterminate.
The posting of the continuing narrative will also be open, indeterminate.