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by | JBE, Volume 1

  • Be extremely present.
  • Set inspiring music.
  • Set a positive intention. (“This is what I want to experience.”)
    • Life will become an ever-flowing river.
    • I will appreciate being a human.
  • To relax, you may try to:
    • Listen to the music beforehand.
    • Meditate or do breathwork.
    • Observe nature.

Nihilism is a viewpoint that everything which reality stands upon is meaningless. Life is a groundless contraption, says nihilism. You are nothing but a speckle of dust in its expansion and contraction.

Nihilism inherently defies itself. It self-destructs. To say life is meaningless must itself be meaningless. This contradicts the extreme pessimism that is often associated with nihilism. Suffering arises from your identification with meaninglessness, from assuming it has a meaning. You are an ocean. You are life. You are Love.

Nihilism is like the Dark Night of the Soul. Just a step away from a bright dawn. As you expand your consciousness further, negative feelings dissipate, for you surrender to the cosmic hum. When you give up your human identity, it isn’t foolish to unconditionally trust. A ripple cannot harm the ocean, same as an eye cannot cut itself.

Let the following experience be natural. Whatever purpose you are seeking you already are. You are not seeking a purpose of somebody else. Not of some future you. Whatever you seek is buried within you now. Otherwise, you would not be seeking it, for it would not exist! You only think meaning is hidden from you. You have played a masterful trick on yourself. You are desperately seeking that-which-already-is. You are seeking it because you already have it because you value it. You fool! It’s Love!

It is alright to cry. The music is here to guide you.

My hands are shaking. A magnificent attempt is being made to convey the truth. To you. To myself. To our common roots, forgotten. While your perception is hopping from a sentence to sentence, try to also remember: You were the one laying the pen.

Your eyes are bursting into tears. You have written this text to yourself. In the meantime, you were a stork and a jackdaw. The writing has reached you, and therefore it has reached me because we are one.

We do not retrieve one another’s memories. My beloved Atlantis, the vow to set out on adventure is as old and sore as our knees. My lips are longing to meet yours again. Our hearts are throbbing like the Center of the Universe. Inseparably bonded for eternity by an ocean.

My purpose of writing Journeys Beyond Earth is nothing else than seeing you in tears. I wish that my words overwhelm you. That you dissolve in the ever-bonding love between us. The epiphany smites from within, yet worry not. The river of life sways you.

Awaken, I call out – a rift appearing in a swarm of clouds. Revoke the unrelenting ego – the skies are clearing as I shout. The music guides you. I guide you. Rest. You are not ever alone. Notice how my speech is affecting you. Breathe… Each sensation is a movement of blood in your veins. A wormhole, so to say, a cosmic vault from one instance to another. You are a traveler hopping moments.

Judgment no longer burdens you. Within you shines a magnificent temple. A sun radiates where the heart resides. Waterfalls murmur where the blood circulates. All while the breath passes through an opulent temple. A picture painted from the Aztecs’ history… This is you.

Then: A subtle remembrance arises. Stars align. You scent a wisp in the air – a leak of something greater you had once been. Do not indulge in ruminating about the meaning of the incoming paragraphs. Feel into their presence instead. You have written them to yourself, remember? The more your personality shrinks, the more you recollect the spellbinding nature of life. You remember who you have always been. You remember what you have been through. Not as a petty little human but as the whole Universe. You remember…

The subtle disappearing of summer. Little prevailed of August’s tempests. Glades reflected the golden setting sun. The air was warm like an oven. Leaves inhaled a palette shade. Mystery and anticipation hung in the air. Lord Autumn cantered on harnessed horses. Remember?

The aesthetic overflow of a storm onto a field. Your body was barely holding against a gale as it chafed the grain. Your arms were wide open. In the air squealed a madman’s laughter. Mother Nature’s frenzy was ardent. Long you had sought to taste her fury. Droplets of rain were dripping off your shoulders, which quivered in ecstasy. Remember?

The gut-wrenching, yet intriguing presence of illusions. You were an ego who saw through itself. It could not bear its self-constructed reality any longer. It started hallucinating over the corpses of its fallen ideologies. It was so exhausted of itself that it saw projections which were not there sitting in ditches, talking about the wonderful truth of existence. Remember?

The compulsion to explore a rabbit hole, wherein dwelled a talking rabbit. You were willing to abandon your origin; to have your memory erased. Why? Only to feel the gust of wind for the first time again. Remember?

The middle of a snow-hazed forest, where winter had laid its spell. You trod on a crispy snow-covered path. The sky looked as if there might be more snow before night. The forest proved to be a good companion for driving away sorrow. Remember?

Old blissful days of ignorance. Do you remember the days in which childhood magic permeated through the framework of reality…? When the not-knowing penetrated deep into your bones? Remember?

The melancholic vanity over a fading chapter. Our blue planet loomed behind a spacecraft’s window. Your hands were pressed against the glass, trembling in bliss. The air felt thick. You were self-reflecting. The relationship between you and the Universe was as obvious as a wardrobe carried on shoulders. A rose’s petals were wilting. One life had ended, one just begun. The wheel spun over – you are immortal. Remember?

The ruthlessly peaceful temper of Nature – the downpour of sadness when a lion shredded a gazelle. You knew human life was as important as of a cell. Remember?

The bloodcurdling, yet captivating journey of the Nautilus for twenty thousand leagues under the sea. Captain Nemo’s silvery beard. The fragrance which the word ‘noble’ evoked in you. Remember?

The expectation of unforeseen mysteries. In the year of grace 1926, you were a young treasure hunter. You were travelling through a desert in a puffing express. The locomotive roared and sizzled and cawed like a black crow. Life meant a stretching field for exploration. No middlemen stood between you and the frontline. Remember?

Listen to the music. It recognizes what you are feeling.

How many extraordinaire visions have you felt since the beginning of this writing? Do you even remember the first paragraph? You do not. You have diverted your attention elsewhere. How can a paragraph, which is not constant, ever bind together the entire meaning of life? See? Nihilism is merely a thought beclouding your pure mind. A cloud is a stance treated for too long. Your memory and a lack thereof is a thin ledge, beneath which whirrs a descent into madness. You are self-constructing your reality by treating thoughts for a prolonged period of time. They appear stable, for you have forgotten the groundless veil beneath. Dare to remember?

You are not human – mortem is an appearing thought.

You are not on Earth – space is an appearing thought.

By dissolving psychological boundaries, you realize you are free to go in all directions. The third dimension is a construct – a mental construct keeping you locked from reaching the Center of the Earth. The notion of space is a belief. You are free to venture anywhere. You are not constrained to a country. You are not constrained to a place. These are useful survival notions. They assault you constantly – constantly – unless you wake up.

This is not just Earth. This is the center of all reality. As it happens, all things become infinitely close and infinitely far away. The key to Shangri-La.