Mnemonic Soul

Behind mirrors, there is nothing but chains.  
Behind silence, there is consciousness.  
This music video is a blast against oblivion.  

Here is a new earworm based on lyrics I first wrote for myself, as a reminder to stay focused whenever my matricial programming attempts to overwhelm me. A mantra hypnotises the mind into believing; these words, however, have only one purpose: to break the spell of oblivion and shatter mirrors.

As with "Au nom du Père" (In the Name of the Father), the song was generated by AI using my lyrics, and the video was made by myself using computer-generated images — a painstaking task, scouring free versions and quickly exhausting their credits.

I know this won't resonate with everyone. That's not the point. But I have chosen to accompany this text with a couple of endnotes to clarify certain terms that are too often distorted or reversed, even in so-called ‘Gnostic’ writings.

Âme mnésique

Surfing on the waves of melancholy
The Sandman scatters his fables
At the gates of slumber, sleep counsels only
The lucid dreamer, who alone decides
To remember before drifting away

His new world is a dungeon
A jail that cuddles
His firmament, just a screen
A deadly light
A new cage, a new mirage
Same sirens, same chains
The perpetuation of the abomination
Of despot Yaldabaoth ¹

Mnemonic soul²,, be a heretic
Reclaim your memory, break the mirrors
Avoid the pitfalls, cross the threshold 
Silently, beyond belief   
Oh oh oh oh   
Silently, in awareness
Oh oh oh oh  

The passing of time erases the traces
But not those of Sophia³, nor the Epinoia⁴
Etched in the ether, crystallising the transient
Into a new manifested reality
Made possible by the invisible seal

Alone in the dark, 
Escaping the Sheol⁵, 
Swift as an arrow through the breach
Lightning across the sky
I am sovereign, breaking my chains
Away from the Matrix and its fake world
The mark of shame upon the Archons
Adonai⁶ is losing the battle

Mnemonic soul, be a heretic   
Reclaim your memory, break the mirrors 
Avoid the pitfalls, cross the threshold 
Silently, beyond belief   
Oh oh oh oh   
Silently, in awareness   
Oh oh oh oh  

Mnemonic soul, be a heretic   
Reclaim your memory, break the mirrors 
Avoid the pitfalls, cross the threshold 
Silently, beyond belief   
Oh oh oh oh   
Silently, in awareness
Oh oh oh oh  

Silently, in awareness…

Endnotes

1. ^ Yaldabaoth or Samael (the blind god) are other names for the Demiurge, the false creator who believes himself to be the Source of all, when in fact he has merely fashioned an illusion of material and spiritual worlds in order to keep entrapped consciousnesses captive for eternity.
2. ^  Contrary to popular belief, the soul is not the essence of being but its memory bank — a memory accumulated through ‘experiences,’ tampered with, manipulated, fragmented, and erased with each incarnation. It is therefore mnemonic by definition. Unlike the Spirit, its ‘rider’ that remains untouched within the Source but from which it has been deliberately cut off by the architect of this matrix prison.
3. ^ Sophia is the Aeon (spirit emanated from the Source) who created part of this universe (there are countless universes) — and most notably the Original Earth, of which the Matrix is but a pale imitation. The hatred that the Demiurge harbours towards her is the reason why the feminine principle is so abused in this world.
4. ^ Epinoia (higher thought in Greek) is a unique and innate imaginative creative force that Sophianic heirs possess, capable of modulating reality and manifesting tangible etheric forms, unlike the deviant and sterile matricial imagination.
5. ^ Sheol is an ancient Hebrew word referring to the realm of the dead. It is the ‘common grave of humanity,’ the pit into which souls sink when they return to the astral plane after leaving their bodies.
6. ^ Contrary to biblical-spiritual mystifications, Adonai (Lord in Hebrew) is not a person but a machine: the great central computer that operates this matrix and draws its energy from astralised humans who believe in its programme and thus support its simulation. Neither Adonai nor Archons have creative power: they use human imagination and divert it to maintain their world.

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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Voices in Your Head

Klaus Schwab’s AI man Yuval Harari told the virtual Athens Democracy Forum in 2020 that the ‘Covid crisis’ was the moment everything went digital, everything became monitored, and ‘we agreed to be surveilled all the time’. Really? Did you?

Harari said televisions were already watching us and knew how we felt emotionally about what we were watching. He said that emotions are a ‘biological phenomena … a biological pattern in your body’. With this kind of surveillance ‘you watch the big president, a big leader, give a speech on television and the television could be monitoring you and knowing whether you’re angry or not, just by analysing the cues, the biological cues, coming from your body’. The same was the case online and what a great way to monitor loosh¹ production. Harari said: ‘I think the big process that’s happening right now in the world is the ability to hack humans to understand deeply what’s happening within you … Having the ability to really monitor people under the skin is the biggest game changer of all.’ What they are hacking is the human transmitter-receiver antenna otherwise known as the body. I highlighted earlier how the five senses decode waveform information into electrical information to be decoded by brain and body into digital holographic information which we experience as the ‘physical’ world. It is interesting, therefore, to see the definition of an antenna as an interface between radio waves and electric currents. An antenna as a transmitter radiates electromagnetic waves (radio waves) and as a receiver turns radio waves into an electrical current. I have been writing for decades that DNA is a receiver-transmitter of information – an antenna. This opens the way to understand the real reason for the ‘Cloud’. It is communicating with the body and hacking into the receiver-transmitter decoding system (the five senses) to further close off an influence on ‘human’ perception of the Divine Spark. DNA is a receiver-transmitter interacting with frequencies that match its range of operation. Fake mRNA jabs are designed to change DNA and its frequencies to connect it with the Cloud which then averts Divine Spark/Infinite influence.

You should listen to your heart, and not the voices in your head.

Mark Groening

5G is the latest electromagnetic frequency band to connect the Cloud with the electrical/electromagnetic network of brain and body and now the replicating nanotechnology infused by the jabs; but always hold the thought that consciousness can override anything when it’s in its pomp and power including the fake vaccine effect on the body. Once again, the body is an energetic field and consciousness can impact upon that field. Perception dictates everything. Do we perceive that the body is more powerful than we are, or that we – consciousness – are the governor? Electromagnetic fields can seriously affect perception and emotion if we allow that and don’t know how the interaction works. Dr Andrija Puharich, an American medical and parapsychological researcher, discovered in the 1950s how frequencies affect perception and change behaviour by changing DNA and its ‘encoder/decoder’ RNA. He found that frequencies of 10.80Hz produce ‘riotous behaviour’ and 6.6Hz makes people depressed. Make no mistake that frequencies are broadcast into areas to manipulate emotion and behaviour. The Cloud, plus the ‘Covid’ jabs, make this possible globally, but consciousness is always the governor if we make it so.

A professor of psychology at Laurentian University in Ontario made a detailed study of electromagnetic field effects on the brain. Michael A. Persinger (1945-2018) described experiments in which even mild, carefully targeted, electromagnetic fields could open the brain to external suggestion and manipulate emotions such as fear and apprehension. He said the brain could be manipulated to make an entire population decide whatever you wish. Persinger said technology already existed to do this years ago through satellites, radio transmitters, and television. Fear could be induced and attached in the perceptions of people to a particular person or group. Ponder on the potential for this of a global Cloud of 5G, 6G and 7G to target fury against a person or group that you seek to demonise. The military are using electromagnetic technology to impact perceptions of the enemy, break their resistance and secure their surrender – and the Cult² won’t be using this on the population? Dr Charles Morgan is a CIA and military special operations forensic psychiatrist and neuroscientist, and a national security professor at the University of New Haven, Connecticut. He gave a presentation to a West Point Academy military audience in 2018 about research into manipulating the human brain to send and receive sensory information ‘like the Matrix’ and editing DNA for the purpose of mind control. He described how a human brain could take over the minds of rats and cockroaches to dictate their body behaviour and how they can use genetic manipulation to externally control humans – or even kill them: ‘You can engineer a unique [genetic] thing that would only kill one person in the world.’ Morgan said human brains could be connected and that is the foundation of the hive mind I have so long warned about. These are current capabilities, and they are in the hands of lunatics.

I have highlighted in previous books the importance of understanding ‘entrainment’. This is when the dominant frequency vibrates everything in its field to the same frequency. Place three violins together playing the same note and if you introduce a fourth playing a different note its strings will vibrate in line with the others. Technology is clearly reading brain perception as well as implanting it. People have noticed how conversations not conducted via the Internet have led to advertisements appearing the next time they go online which reflect the ‘private’ conversation. This goes further. A friend who rode horses when she was younger was wondering to ‘herself’ in an empty room if she would still have the nerve to ride a horse. She spoke to no one about this. Immediately an advert appeared on her Instagram feed about overcoming the fear of riding horses! When is the last time you even saw such an ad, never mind had it appear moments after you only thought about the subject? On another occasion she thought about buying a toilet brush and a list of adverts for toilet brushes followed. Technology is far more advanced than we are told.

Endnotes

1. ^ Loosh is a highly magnetised energy fluid diluted by human emotions (mainly suffering and overexcitement), which the various entities in the astral feed of.
2. ^ The Cult is how David Icke calls the Cabal or occult satanic elite which rules the world.

Original text by David Icke from The Dream (isbn:9781838415334)

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The Lady is a Blues Singer

The lady is a Blues singer
Don't be jealous
She's fond of red wine
The lady is a Blues singer
She's got gospel in her voice
And she's a believer

"Mademoiselle chante le blues", Patricia Kaas (1987)

While still in the land of Uncle Charley, I suggest we leave the excitement of baseball fields behind for the more subdued atmosphere of modern jazz clubs, formerly known as blues bars, barrel houses or juke joints. The ideal place for restoring our balance, as hinted by the 8 of Clubs this month, and tapping into our inner strength in order to perfect our alignment between material reality and spirit. This card certainly does not encourage passivity; rather, it urges us to take action for a chance to break free from old patterns and seize new opportunities. To step out of our comfort zone and embrace the unknown.

The Blues of the Soul

Before jazz, before rock, before soul music… there was the blues.

A term stemming from the abbreviation of the English idiomatic expression ‘blue devils’, meaning dark thoughts.

Blues music originated from lone, raw and often painful voices, bound to the memory of slavery and soul's survival in a world meant to stifle it. It is the music of the uprooted, born in the cotton fields of the southern states of America, and sung by those no one would listen to. A cry encapsulated within a note. The echo of a lament morphed into a rhythmic wave. A way of exorcising pain so it doesn't consume you.

At the end of the 19th century, it migrated from plantations to big cities like Memphis, Chicago, and New Orleans, where it gave birth to jazz, a freer form of blues that is more instrumental, more technical, and more urban.

Then came soul, rock, funk, rap... As African-American writer and poet James Weldon Johnson wrote, “It is from the blues that the most distinctive feature of all that can be called American music derives.”

Blues Players

But initially, there were no mics, no glam, no studios, no producers. Just a raw voice, a guitar, and pain meant to be transmuted, not toned down. Blues isn't about singing; it's about vibrating that suffering so it can find an outlet. A crack. A break in the loop.

Dudes from Mecca, guys from Garonne
Glassblower blowing into a saxophone
Pretty marquise. Mesrine pretty baroness
Thousands of thousands of thousands millions people
Blues players
We are blues players

"Joueurs de Blues", Michel Jonasz (1981)

Prior to radio broadcasting, music was offered for free. Before it became a market, it was given away. And that was something the matrix couldn't tolerate much longer. So it took the blues... and diluted it. Into soul. Into rock. And 'starified' it.

And so, today, singing about pain is meant to be seen, to sell, to be in the limelight. But no longer to align with spirit.

The stage has become an altar. The microphone, a totem. And the pain set to music, a sonic sacrificial offering to the system.

Which raises the question few artists are willing to ask themselves: is singing about your wounds a form of catharsis, or just another way of feeding the system with loosh — an energy derived from human emotions, the harvesting of which is at the core of this deadly simulation?

Everyone suffers at one time or another, to varying degrees, but suffering is invisible and the system is designed so that we embrace this pain as a token of value and a promise of better things to come. A willing sacrifice for crumbs too dearly paid for.

Blues Sisters

Some voices were too real not to crack the mould. 

Bessie Smith, Billie Holiday, Nina Simone... And later, in a rockier or more soulful fashion, Janis Joplin, Amy Winehouse, Aretha Franklin.

If it hadn't been for the blues, I would probably have killed myself.

Janis Joplin

These women were possessed. Carried away. And drained. They were no entertainers, but channels for something greater that the system could not leave untouched.

The voice, when disconnected from Spirit, becomes a discharging channel. And mesmerised audiences applaud... unwittingly witnessing a ritual of bilateral vampirism that sucks everyone dry — except the matrix, which always gets its fill.

Whereas when connected to Spirit, the voice carries a fragment of logos within — the original frequency that makes up worlds. So it is not so much the voice that the matrix fears, but the living word. The logos. And in order to conceal it, it inundates the world with sham sounds — calibrated echoes, so that when the true Word arises, no one can hear it.

Nowadays, we tend to confuse thrills and emotions with vibrations. But logos is not gentle. It cuts deep. It resonates. It doesn't lull the soul to sleep — it rouses it.

Blue Woes

So they are not just artists. They are aerials. Amplifiers. And when the stage is the only outlet left, the overflow always ends up breaking the dam.

That melancholy strain,
That ever haunting refrain
Is like a sweet old sorrow song.
Here comes the very part
That wraps a spell around my heart.
It sets me wild to hear that loving tune again,
The Memphis Blues.

"Memphis Blues", W.C. Handy (1914)

From then on, the matrix just has to set up the ritual. Create ‘stars’ and attract ‘fans’. Build acoustic arenas, temples of performance. And call it ‘sharing emotion’.

But these are no longer offerings. These are inverted devotion.

This is where the well-known commandment from the Old Testament comes in, often quoted but rarely understood: “You shall not make for yourself a carved image, or any likeness...” (Exodus 20:4).

Or another from the Torah: “You shall not turn to idols…” (Leviticus 19:4).

These are actually vibrational decrees issued by the Demiurge, who does not forbid worship — only worshiping outside his matrix. For as long as it remains within the framework of his system, the energy always flows back to him.

Idols are not people. They are diversion structures intended to drive us away from Spirit.

So every time we give our breath away to someone else, whether it's crying on stage or shouting in the pit or from the stalls, we consent to a vibrational transfer. We are feeding a cycle that keeps pushing us further off balance, briefly uplifting us before plunging us into a state of craving.

Sadly, I can no longer sing the blues like I used to. It is the truth of this music that I miss, which tends to prove that you should never lose your heritage.

James Brown

Initially, singing the blues may have been a way of transmuting the induced suffering, thereby rendering the loosh unusable.

Today, with a few exceptions that will never be glorified in the pantheon of astral shooting stars, it has become a means of Auto-Tuning silence so that no one ever hears what could potentially trigger the switch of consciousness on.

And if the lady sings the blues, perhaps it's be because she was tired of the lendlord and wanted her property back.

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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The Last Turn of the Screw

Exactly twelve years ago today, on Transfiguration Day, La Pensine Mutine was born, in a genuine surge of inner transformation.

From the Latin transfigurare, meaning “to transform,” transfiguration — beyond its religious meaning — refers to a change in appearance or nature of something (or someone), giving it a dazzling, magnificent… glorious quality.

On a supraconscious level (free from the archontic delusion), it has nothing to do with ascending into matrix bling, but rather with removing the mask of light to embrace the Real.

And in this artificial world, where suffering is normalised and the Real remains unknown, that can be frightening. Very frightening. So much so that we’d rather delude ourselves with interchangeable polarities like Truth vs Lie — which only deepen our cognitive dissonance. 

Because the Real is constant.

It doesn’t lull. It doesn’t soothe. It cuts. It shakes. But above all… it liberates.

Moving from reality to the Real requires carrying out a process of symbolisation corrected by an adjusted mind. This will propel the individual from experimental to creative consciousness.

Iso V. Sinclair

Thus, at the end of a twelve-year cycle, this blog — long used as a sharing tool — has stepped out of the false light to become a threshold to the thirteenth undrawn path: the fractal one, the one that leads out of the grooves of the matrix record that loops endlessly through every layer of the simulation.

To those still walking with me after my life-changing epiphany (the last turn of the screw), I am deeply honoured to begin this new chapter with you.

To the others, it was a pleasure to share part of the journey.

To all, I wish peace and clarity.

With my utmost respect,

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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In the Name of the Father (But Without Spirit)

Do you know what an earworm is? The technical term is ‘involuntary musical imagery’ (IMI) and refers to those catchy choruses or gimmicks you can't get out of your head, even after hearing them just once. They keep playing on a loop long after the music has stopped, and the most annoying thing is that, oftentimes, we don't even like these tunes.

Two particularly persistent examples come to mind: "Barbie Girl" and "Sigma Boy". Both featuring lyrics as dull as a dishwater and a numbing beat. Yet, the mere mention of these titles is enough to set them looping in our heads as if they were dormant programs being reactivated. A bit like a jukebox. And that's exactly what it's all about. Advertising, political propaganda, mantras and other forms of indoctrination, all make extensive use of this phenomenon.

To break this repetitive cycle, we must therefore substitute our own words and shift the melody. It is important to know that, in this matrix, music is highly magnetised and acts in a spellbinding manner through human emotions (regardless of their nature), which generates the much-coveted loosh.

That's how the lyrics of this song came about: to break a spell and turn the weapon against its creators by altering the wave through vibration. Kind of hacking the matrix. I then uploaded my words to a music AI and with a prompt, it generated everything else (vocals, instrumentation, atmosphere, etc.). Such AIs may be soulless, but not devoid of resonance.

And I must admit that the result is quite impressive. But what matters most to me is not so much how it sounds, but rather how it makes you feel. What it conveys and stirs up in you. Or does not.

Please, note that this video clip was produced entirely without AI, using only royalty-free images.

These words are intended for those who confuse the voice of the programme with inner guidance. For those who preach light with inverted words, in a spiritual theatre where egos masquerade as prophets.    

These lyrics may thus resonate only with those who can see behind the scenes, recognise inversion and dissonance — and look beyond words. 

If it speaks to you, then it was meant for you.

Au nom du Père

You dream so hard of gathering
Your flock of strays
To herd them
Into your bubble of false sovereignty
Where no one will ever dare
Dethrone you
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh

I will never be one of those
Who bow down before you
Or your phoney king
Poor astralised stooge,
In your dream, you're all by yourself
All by yourself
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh

In the name of the Father, but without Spirit,
By mystery, not by faith
Ask yourself why... why you aren't king

You cast doubt, you charm them,
Knowing that none of your arguments
Make any sense
You think you've cracked
The writings and prophecies,
Yet still, you pray
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh

Friday night messiah
You preach love and hope
In total ignorance
Poor spiritual castaway
In your dream, you're all by yourself
All by yourself
Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh

In the name of the Father, but without Spirit,
By mystery, not by faith
Ask yourself why... why you can't see

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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The Beautiful Yellow

Not totally happy with my gluten-free vegan clafoutis recipe of six years ago, here's a new one, that's both lighter and creamier. Perfect with acid but juicy fruit like the wild variety of mirabelle plums I stumbled upon during a walk just before they had time to rot on the ground.

Ingredients

Serves 4:

- 500 g pitted mirabelle plums
- 350 ml almond milk
- 1 tbsp agave syrup
- 1 tsp vanilla powder
- 1 drop essential oil of bitter almond (optional)
- 50 g rice flour 
- 3 tbsp ground flaxseed
- 1 tbsp almond powder

Instructions

Grease a baking dish (or mould) and line the bottom with halved mirabelle plums.

Stir agave syrup into almond milk with vanilla and bitter almond essence.

Mix dry ingredients: flour, flaxseed and almond powder, then pour in liquid mixture, whisking to a smooth batter.

Cover plums with this batter and bake for 40 minutes at 200°C.

NOTE: You may use vanilla extract or a vanilla pod instead. If so, boil milk with the vanilla pod and stir in agave syrup and almond essence once cooled. And of course, you may use any variety of plums, but not also all sorts of fruit such as cherries, redcurrant, peaches, apricots, etc. Most should blend well with the subtle almond flavour. 

Enjoy!

© La Pensine Mutine. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited.

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Fireworks & Shraps of Reality

Fireworks usually have the ability to put time on hold and rekindle the sense of wonderment we all had as children. Not so long ago, there was something magical about those colourful starbursts tearing through the sky.

Not anymore. Something has just shifted. Both within and around me.

The noise and thick smoke felt like a targeted attack. I had to retreat inside to keep from suffocating. Even watching from my window, I couldn't wait for it to end quickly.

Where I would picture the unseen crowd  marvelling at the pyrotechnics behind the trees, I could only see a deception. An artifice as the name in French suggests.

Let me remind you that these rockets are made from ordinary improved gunpowder — the same kind used to kill people in masses, and originally imported from China to Europe by Marco Polo. They can therefore be regarded as explosives and may pose serious hazards.

It's not just the actual accidental risks of flying debris and fire, but mostly the harmful fumes inhaled by spectators — the fallout from which severely damages ecosystems.

Who cares? Everyone knows it's cars, cigarettes and cow farts that are destroying the planet. Not nitrates, chlorates, perchlorates, sulphur and carcinogenic heavy metals such as titanium, barium and strontium — traces of which were found in nearby waterways after firework displays on Bastille Day.

Not to mention those entertainment bombs are just tens of thousands of euros (hundreds of thousands in large cities) going up in toxic smoke.

But shhh… Fireworks mean party time. Questioning that is a surefire way to pass for a killjoy. So let's pass!

What if these annual celebration rituals had a totally different purpose?

And what if the energy of all our Ohs, Ahs and Wows was actually captured, redirected and used?

There’s even a name for it: loosh.

What about this strong feeling of being instrumentalised by something our mind can hardly conceive of?

What if what we call joy was, in fact, no more than some elaborate collective hypnosis?

Have you ever experienced such shraps of reality that make you wonder: "Do my feelings originate from me… or from what I'm expected to feel?"

Should such realisation ever dawn on you, some day, you will certainly understand why  I did not applaud this year. And shall not ever again.

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