James True - Blueprints of Mind Control

Dedicated to Liz Crokin.

THE GREAT AWAKENING begins in the body with a simple question, Is that true? Asking casts a spell that awakens a dormant sonar revealing a new dimension of perception. This dimension is the sensation of truth.

As our ears perceive sound and our eyes perceive light, so does the intuition perceive truth. Feedback comes as a vibration through your bones. It generates electricity you can feel in your shoulders. The truth resonates inside us like a tuning fork. This sense remains dormant until we are brave enough to ask, Is that true?

The propaganda of groupthink is hypnotic. We are contained in a playground behind a chain link fence of thought. Some of us were lucky to be cast out of that perimeter. Ostracization led us to claw our way out of the cave and into a new light. This truth burns our skin with its radiation. This new reality carves its way into our eye holes like a hot, sharp razor on the tip of a needle. This truth is a sizzling disinfectant. It stings our cuts like a bitchy wasp. This truth is not for everyone.

This book illustrates the blueprints of mind control. Each chapter reveals the shepherds crook used to herd your thoughts. This crook is a staff that both pokes you and prods you. You feel these jabs in the jolts of shame or admiration. The crook is used to convince us we are misguided. It makes our lives miserable until we agree. Once we comply with its orders, it gives gentle guidance. We are charmed by the cessation of its rebuke. This is the crook of mind control that makes us lost sheep with our eyes closed. Its in family, history, law, medicine, politics, religion, science, and thought. Seeing the crook uncloaks the silent shepherd. All you have to do is open your eyes and ask the question.

So go ahead. Ask the question. Is it true?

TO PLAY WAR one needs soldiers. Recruitment is simple with the tools of persuasion. These tools can be applied in many flavors from religion to race or gender. Our new infantry has mustered here on this cold, foggy morning to spill blood over the brains gentle creases. These forces are fighting for control of a rebel force hidden deep inside you. This force is pagan and primal. The intuition. Its your gut peeled free from logic. It has no leader to parlay. The only way to control this force is to convince your core it's broken. As free men, we are the custodian of our intuition. Many are persuaded to hand over these responsibilities to an external shepherd. They coat-check their power believing a dark force is slumbering inside.

These armies subdue the intuition with the same battle plan. Shame can be applied emotionally with the label of racist, intellectually with the label of an idiot, and spiritually with the label of a sinner. This blueprint for mind control requires just three beliefs installed in the victims mind. The first is the belief the target is broken. Second, they are unable to fix it. Third, they are offered salvation through sacrifice. The soldier is recruited in a moment of inner abandonment. He submits to an external compass for guidance.

Our entire lives these forces have suppressed our intuition by devaluing and shaming it with labels like sinner or racist. We convinced ourselves our inner nature is a dangerous primordial demon. We needed this fear to nudge forth a cohesive society. We tied our fingers to puppet strings as a process of cultural evolution. But beneath this lack of freedom, we will always be hurting. Until our intuition comes forth and plays the drum freely, we remain, slaves, open to the winds of suggestion. We are living in a psychology prison inmates call the rational mind. This is the cloak over your head as you walk down the steps to the initiation.

The war for our mind is fractal. The tribe outside is tormented in the same way. Controls from religion and higher education attempt to subdue our common intuition in the same way and for the same reasons. These societal forces compete to be our minds captain. Before this mental serfdom, we were naked in the forest. We dipped ourselves in stag blood because we felt an urge to change. These rituals birthed new identities that we pulled from deep inside us. We were rising from the power of our mojo. We were climbing the totem of our individual lifes journey. Our identity was a fountain that kept bubbling, I Am. We were explosive, imaginary, and ever-changing. We fucked in public. We policed ourselves with unabashed correction. Justice was brutal and subjective. The tribe was self-correcting every minute, day-after-day. Dissonance had yet to be discovered or invented. The tribe spoke clearly. The tribe forgave instantly. Hidden agendas were choked out of the group like voodoo. Politeness was mistaken for deceit.

Something has always been there to beat your intuition into submission. The intuition can be subdued when it believes it would be better to abandon itself. This is the classic blueprint for all control dynamics. The voices we hear so loudly in our heads are these armies advancing and retreating. We go to church to enlist as a sinner. We go to college to enlist as a racist. We hoard the calories required for moral discernment by hanging our bridle on the judgments of our elders. We advertise in craigslist for society to take our reigns. We place the Shamans bit in our mouths because we are proud to be wanted. We believe our owner is magnanimous. We believe we're at our best when humble.

We said goodbye to the beast inside. That beautiful Chewbacca of hair and emotion is howling to the sky, and he has never needed a reason. Hes calling you back to his forest moon. For many, life seems tasty behind the safety and panes of glass. We remain subdued and coddled by the armies of shame and the regiment of reason. So many noble soldiers chained by what we have been calling loyalty. They are starving for a chance to not be wrong or choose another side.

This inner voice is a revolution in waiting. Maybe you find yourself with one of these armies. Perhaps youve caught yourself sabotaging your side more than a few times. Youve kept things to yourself while you process these feelings. One night while stirring, you reached under the pillow looking for a cool place to park your fingers. You discover a book titled Manifesto for Independence. The authors name is your own. You smuggle this contraband to the bathroom outside your barracks. Camouflaged in the stall with your pants rolled around your ankles. Quietly, you crack open the tomb and start reading. Inside are words that unlock you. You begin to believe them. You find yourself a spy in your very own mind.

It turns out that deep in your essence was a sort of sleeping prisoner. This Clockwork Orange Rambo strapped to a barber chair for decades. Eyelids were gagged open by sharp stainless pinchers. A display of unwavering resistance in the face of a giant speaker that kept screaming, you are broken! Again and again, year after year, and somehow, this mutant freak unhinged itself and crawled out of the cave.

So here you are panting a fugitive from prison. You are atrophy and hunger. The raw truth of the sun is a blinding comet. Feeling the shivery withdrawals from obligations cold turkey. Your gut keeps revolting with chants of We cant be trusted. You hear friends and family calling you back to take your seat. The system uses comfort and loyalty to extract consent. Society hides your bodys true power behind words like "placebo."

You have just killed your master. In his blood, you introduce yourself to the inner reflection. You are rnin in the empire of mind. Your life is a papyrus bearing the calligraphy of time and decision. Each character falling from your pen comes from the ink of your bodys freedom. You are the painter of the selfs definition. As the world spills open from Milky Ways sparkle, you must rise to claim that you lived here standing tall outside of the cave.