F. Gardner
@F_Gardner_1
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Following
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Most famous author on 4chan & most controversial horror novelist Books https://t.co/lBeKjM79qN YouTube https://t.co/ufL19c2x7A Rumble https://t.co/MvPCSwaSLA
Chicago
Joined November 2021
@LBF777 @maximumpain333 Have you ever read the Cloud of Unknowing? I know you’re Christian, and that’s the Christian book that best conveys the type of stuff I’ve seen you post about. Even though I’m Buddhist, I can see parallels in some concepts.
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@Know_More_News @kanyewest They’re melting down in the comments. @BigTech404 You manifested Kanye making the post, due to your Grok post the other day. Law of Attraction sometimes works like that. Even though forms of Thought Magic rely on intent, they can inadvertently trigger under certain circumstances
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@StonewallJack88 Sikh actually, it wasn’t Hindu. But it was absolutely ridiculous how so many people were freaking out about the prayer.
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I’ll deal with the same shit, and it’s ridiculous. For example, this is my background: >Born in Chicago & my background is as Irish as it gets >Growing up my family, relatives, etc have Irish photos, pictures, shamrock decor all over their homes, & I’m constantly hearing about our Irish heritage from all of them >I’ve been to Ireland to visit relatives I have >I used to be a Catholic seminarian & Catholic school teacher >I convert to Buddhism in my 30’s And then despite all of this, I’ll encounter Christians who will flip the fuck out and say “You’re not Christian? You must be a Jew!” Ironically, Christians are the ones who follow a religion that’s Jewish but they are in denial and they call everyone who disagrees with them Jewish or demon worshippers. I know it’s not all of them, but they frequently do this. Only the most open-minded of them are able to have civil discussions and most of them get offended very easily.
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Yeah, well said. Neoplatonism, with concepts like Plato’s forms and everything, also have parallels than can be drawn to eastern stuff, exceedingly more than the Germanic Pagan systems. Most Neo-Pagans like how their ancestors would’ve been Norse, or another Pagan religion like that. They want a religion that’s European or race centered, so they overlook this stuff, or they don’t feel it’s as important.
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@Know_More_News Looks like @Know_More_News . Adam, you should just start dressing like that and fully embrace your “Goyschiach” nickname.
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You’re right. Western Pagan religions don’t really exist anymore. They’re reconstructions. Christianity destroyed their texts, so modern Paganism is pieced together from biased Christian sources. Without the full picture, it’s built on incomplete and unreliable information. People often ask why I converted to Buddhism instead of Paganism after leaving Christianity. Part of it is that I don’t believe any existing Pagan traditions are authentic. Buddhism never disappeared, it’s fully intact, and I’m convinced it’s true. I have nothing against Pagans, but many choose Paganism because they want a Western or ethnic centered tradition. That’s overwhelmingly the case with the Pagans I meet. I don’t care about that. I only want the truth. Buddhism never stopped existing, it’s infinitely more fleshed out, and I believe it’s simply reality. Again, I have nothing against Pagans. Most seem to like me. Christians, on the other hand, sometimes get mad at me for not being Christian or for believing their religion was created by Jews. Generally speaking, Pagans are easier to get along with. They don’t freak out as often or constantly claim you worship demons if they disagree with you. And yes, I know not all Christians do that, but it commonly happens. Some can have civil conversations, but they are the open-minded ones who are not thin-skinned, and to be brutally honest, they are rare.
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@GINGOYLEHOMOLKA @fren4cx No. Judea also referred to Jews both ethnically and religiously, not just if someone was from the region. Jesus was from Galilee, and Galileans were Jews. He was a Galilean by residence but born in Judea. Either way, both were Jewish regions, and Jesus was extremely Jewish.
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@GINGOYLEHOMOLKA @fren4cx Loudaios originally meant “Judean” (Yehudah) and that’s where Jew comes from. By Jesus’ time, it referred to all ethnic and religious Jews. So, that means the Bible is calling Jesus a Jew. That’s the basic etymology.
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@GINGOYLEHOMOLKA @fren4cx The Greek term “Ioudaioi” (Which means Jew) appears throughout the New Testament in reference to Jesus, stating Jesus was a Jew, many times. Claiming otherwise is like saying “The word Romans didn’t exist at that time” which is ridiculous.
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@VJMPub Yeah, that’s part of why I converted from Christianity to Buddhism, like I said before. It synced up.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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This post will be even heavier than my last one. It’s about the deep meditative experience I’ve been trying to describe, and the effects it’s had on me. It forever changed me & there is no way to truly prepare for it: You are not real. You are a blank canvas that has never been painted on. The mind alone exists. It is empty. The illusion of life unfolds before you like a play. But it’s an empty theatre. There are no actors on the stage and your seat in the theatre is empty. You watch the play from your empty seat in the theatre. You’re the observer who is not there. You look upon the world and call it existence, but it has never existed. Fantasy, but the absence of anything to fantasize about. Imagination, but the absence of anything to imagine. Nothing was ever written upon the blank page, yet you read it. Many who glimpse this are shattered and can’t handle it. It unravels everything they’ve ever known. But those who survive it, appreciate it more than literally anything. Ripped out of the dream of existence itself. It is not annihilation, because there was never anything to be annihilated. There is no self to exist. I’ve stated before that I try to convey this feeling through the horror novels I write, even hinting at how I know this in them. Perhaps one day I will outright tell people but I realize that the person has to be able to fully handle it, if I ever give specific instructions. I do not claim enlightenment. But this post is how I would convey the meditative experience I had.
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