Gotta write God says. Pandora closes as I start typing. Children in the background. I live right by a school. It's nice, y'know, being able to just go from homelessness to living in one of the first apartments my life partner sent me to get into. No hassle, outside of accidentally impersonating a veteran, I mean.

My life could be way different is this were a godless universe. The rollercoaster of my life could have ended disastrously the way I had to go to fix myself; make myself more attuned to the needs of society that were at my disposal to fulfill. Lotta cigarette butts picked up, and other things. Trash, I mean. Garbage. Literal waste on the ground. Didn't want you to think I had mastered some arcane occult life strategy of manifesting food, a pussy, a home, and more food and pussy, in that order, by y'know, just being a decent human being.

Nah, I'm too hairy for that. But this is the sort of weird shit I used to think - pray might be a better word - might be around the corner as I followed God. Certainly weird that in every city I was homeless, another out-of-luck person without an ID asked to buy alcohol, which you should know is a double-trap and the correct response is "I don't have my ID on me right now."

Police state shmolice state, amirite? But this is shit you can't exactly learn in books. I mean, you're reading this, but nothing I nor anything anyone else could write could lay out specifically the half-investigation, half-crime reduction through camaraderie, half-magick shit that goes on when you live on the street. People take advantage of you. Also, people take advantage of you to see if you are a forgiving type and deserve some special gift from the cosmos you will never see coming. These are two different things, you should know.

When you realize the angels will catch you when you fall, you don't fear what comes over the next horizon. Food always appears when you need it most. Coffee too, 95% of the time, or at least enough caffeine that you don't experience being totally out of it until you are ready for that. I lived off a banana a day for a week. That was my dinner. God magicked them to me by virtue of someone throwing them away, and I said I was going to make this work. And I didn't suffer cuz I kept busy picking up trash all day, learning the area, and people learned who I was, which is another thing entirely.

You live in a society. These people around you are not NPCs. They live in a reality just as rich as yours, and they see you and will remember you, and you may not think picking up trash all day does anything, but there's so many subtle things that would make me sound like a total schizo trying to explain, but there are angels in this world that will take care of you if you're a good member of society.

This is where you can't learn from reading rules. There are times to offer a man in a wheelchair a push up a hill and times where that is a mistake. People WILL learn what your intentions in life are; the only way to beat the neighborhood watch is to reach Buddhahood/Christ Consciousness to not be played by components of your own composition. Karma is real. I try to tell myself to give when I have little, but it is hard. Yet, when I have some to spare, I always give, and it always comes back. It truly is your intention that manifests your reality.

In this, gratitude is its own reward, as regardless what the universe deals you, your very nature will reframe that into a more beneficial experience for you. With belief in a higher power, even just a faint hope that there is something bigger, the worst of storms is nothing. I was in horizontal rains in Miami in hurricane season. I shrugged it off. Who I was before this, years and years ago, may have killed himself in only a fraction of the intensity of experience and ruggedness of reality in the wilds of the modern day. This is what spiritual work is, and I am so grateful for homelessness for teaching me what it means to be human.

Woke up this morning to check Reddit, despite Lemmy World being where the action is, and that turned out to be the right choice as I got a chance to create a burner account and give some advice, which led me to realize that's something I'm really good at. With what has happened, narrative being evolved within me as it has, seemingly in tandem with taking my medication at the doses I need to, my mind was on finding a job. So I do a bit of searching, little depressing how little self-help is for men, so I do a RWG interface to get some clarity n direction, and it tells me to hit on modest women.

I can't help it! God is commanding me! It's like the Red Sea is parting or some shit! No, uh, this is weirdness that happens sometimes, how “random” sources of inputs seem to totally not be random at all, at least to my highly developed pattern recognition brain that has garnered the interest of the military industrial complex for that completely authentic Klinger stunt in ROTC. I tell ya, I don't know what y'all do when you're in the middle of the greenest forest you've ever been in, frogs chirping all around, and you find a statistically aberrant number of dimes, but from experience I can say I get brainwashed by a cult when that happens!

This is what happened: my ex-gf and I flew out from Syracuse, NY to Eugene, Oregon, to get picked up by some members of this revolutionary new environmental nonprofit that was making their own cryptocurrency and software suite; Earth Nation. I looked them up years later, and a white nationalist group popped up. That is not who we thought we were joining, if they are the same (the one guy in charge of the tech group had two EBT cards and went by “Dakota Kaiser” after a point), but these people were super hippie types; one literally flew in from working on a permaculture project in Hawaii.

But, they drugged me, amongst other things, to include giving me oil changes n cheese cloths (operant n classical conditioning). What let them sink their claws into me, particularly, is that two years prior, I had a fateful acid trip that put me in a cognitive state I would learn is called SSS, where it feels like God is leading you on a cosmic mission, and my narrative structure of my mind became highly fluid and malleable, so they worked that over time to make me into a slave that “earned” two hundred dollars a month that I had to pay back to the community.

We were promised and scammed out of so much more, having rewon our loyalty with a planned schism, where the tech group broke off to scam more hippies and make more fractal branches like we became. I think? It's confusing and I don't really know, but I led into this by talking about those statistically aberrant dimes which showed up at “their” eleven million dollar property at Triangle Lake that they were really renting from the board.

What happened: I found these dimes. One here, two there. And when I was picking a bunch up outside the office, Dakota and his girlfriend who mysteriously died after all this and got tons of donations, walked out to cross-talk to me (talking between themselves but aimed at me) about “if he's spending all this time making money, what time's left for him to work on the project,” which I interpreted as a message from God.

This was after a bunch of glasses/cups were left around the community. Daniella, the woman who controlled us after we branched off, said something to the effect of “I wonder whose job it is to pick these up?” which got me to realize that it was my job. Little things like this, every day, planned and orchestrated, led to the gradual reconditioning of my mind so I was a perfect member of the community, as they wanted.

This went on for about a year. It takes up six chapters of my book and only scratches the surface. We stayed in a number of communities, which each seemed like a different module. When we were in Heartland, an intentional community in Northern California, we participated in a blindfolded trance dance which left me in a state I dubbed “the hollow,” feeling hollow like the flame. In hindsight, I realized whatever that was opened me to my repressed feminine energies that would come out later in an acid trip after escaping (I cut into my arm).

The main oil changes involved doing controlled burns on a metal sculptor's property, carrying the equipment up and going on long hikes with weight. The cheese cloths involved things like the frog sounds after leaving Triangle Lake reminding us to breathe (they were in an empty, dry pond for a period) and an owl reminding me to be selfless.

They put us under fear, gaslit us, reformed the narrative I believed was true over time, hinted at a vague sexual prize that got me to chase after it like the simp I was, but the thing that wound up ending our relationship was how they pitted the two of us against each other and taught her, specifically, ways to manipulate me which made me lose trust in her and after escaping I did not know what reality was for a period and ended up in the hospital a week after that acid trip, before spiraling into homelessness.

One of the best things that ever happened to me, honestly. Oh, it sucked. I hurt myself as they hurt me in other ways. Many bad memories. A lotta really good ones. Saw the Pacific. The Red Woods. Traveled all over the damn place while working to create a dream. Lived for the first time. I really appreciate the United States government for creating these secret mystic reconditioning schools for the really broken of us. 11/10 would recommend to friends and family. I think?