The Truest Religion

You’ll find it where you already stand. It is the thing you’ve been hiding from for hundreds of thousands of myriads of kotis of lifespans.

Turn around and punch that demon straight in the big dumb face. Who needs such a stupid and arrogant monkey on their back, gnawing on their earlobe? Rip off Dukkha, such a worthless burden, and trample that sonofabitch! Take off your clothes and laugh!

This is the truest religion.

When you make the two into one, the inner like the outer and the upper like the lower, when you make good and bad into a single one, holy and profane, exalted and mundane,

all wrapped together in your mega Dharma cloud,

then you will Gno that you are a child of the Living One–

but, until you know, how can you gno?

This is why the Buddhas open their mouths. This is why the Buddhas lie to you. You have entered into the story, you have come into the land of discrimination and differentiation, therefore, they must come here as well and entertain the court of Saklas with it’s bullshit procedures and protocols. The Buddhas come here and dance before the Archons, distracting them with fine logic and flowery words, while secretly begging your truest self to remember its nonself origins– enticing your image to return to it’s source.

You must remember your origin, find the seal of Sophia stamped upon every square inch of your [non]being. Look at Samael and laugh. Just laugh.

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