YES!


"The principles of soteriological jurisprudence dictate that the enslaved must be made aware of their true condition in order to preserve free will, or at least the illusion of free will. Yet the codicil – the ‘fine print’ - does not specify the mode of instruction – it might just as truly come from the chance remark of a beggar or a woman dressed in a cheap print frock singing ethereal icaros in the Peruvian night to a chorus of Cambo frogs. Insights might be delivered as much by bag-ladies or during a kitsch sci-fi series as in the soft pre-dawn helical rising of Venus…an ibis standing on one leg in a meadow... a blind Tiresias or unsung Cassandra or a poverty-stricken iteration of William Blake languishing in a debtor’s prison. It probably won’t appear as the packaged product that flies off the shelves… ‘The Secret’, or the latest Dan Brown or Paulo Coelho. It might be as clear as the sign above an exit door I once saw on a bus to downtown L.A. - ‘Espere Luz’ , it glowed –‘Wait for the light’, and I did. The pleroma cannot use the debased apparatus and signifiers of the ‘orthonormal’ cyber-world. Instead it speaks in glimpses, glyphs, tableaus and silences – in the framed face of a red haired woman, her face upturned, flanked by sullen faces on a train that pulled alongside mine on the way to Heathrow to take a plane to nowhere and the metro map read like a Kabbalah revealing my location – lower quadrant, belly of the beast, East Cheam. You’re here, don’t you want to be home, once again, outside ignorance, outside the cube, it spoke. Yes. Aren’t you tired of all this nonsense? Yes. Can’t you see you’re playing a three shell game the house always wins? Yes. Do you know how much your mother loves you and grieves for you? Yes. And I felt a flutter near my ear but I could see nothing. Don’t you feel what you gave up? Yes. Won’t you renounce your covenant with the Beast-world whose Prince is Death?
Yes I said and I saw how many were eaten from the inside and how their poisons seemed their deliverance, and how their illusions led them to love their captors and relish their pain and a tiny bird spoke to me, startlingly, told me to kneel down and ask the Holy Mother for forgiveness, ask her to take me back yes I said yes I will yes. "

from: 'McKenna's Machine Elves'