Free The Televisionary Oracle by Rob Brezsny

is now?
    2. Which parts of your life are overdue for death?
    3. What messages has life been trying to convey to you but you’ve chosen to ignore?
    4. What red herrings, straw men, and scapegoats have you chased after obsessively in order to avoid dissolving your most well-rationalized delusions?

What if
    Arthur C. Clarke was correct
    when he said
    that any sufficiently advanced technology
    is indistinguishable from magic?
    What if such “supernatural machines”
    exist on this earth,
    and are not commandeered
    by military or government elites?
    What if
    there really are,
    as have always been rumored,
    mystery schools
    that harbor
    enlightened masters and shamanic geniuses and witchy saints
    who ceaselessly conspire to
    foment beauty, truth, love, and justice?
    And what if
    these magi have conjured
    a supernatural machine
    which can,
    with your permission,
    beam carrier waves
    directly into your brain tissue,
    using your skull as a transceiver?
    And what if
    the sole purpose
    of these transmissions
    is to link
    your conscious ego
    to the inaccessible part of your brain
    called
    your higher self
    or guardian angel
    or inner teacher?
    R elax. Breathe sweetly and deeply. As you inhale, become aware that every one of your heart’s beats originates in a gift of love directly from the Goddess Herself. As you exhale, allow every cell in your perfect animal body to purr with luminous gratitude for the enormity of the blessings you endlessly receive. Become aware that any residue of hatred still tainting your libido is draining out of you into the good earth.
    Continue to breathe sweetly and deeply. Now gently explode yourself into an even more serene shimmer of reverence. Feel the lustful compassion flowing from your mitochondria in spiral hallelujahs. Sense the flocks of blood-red angels floating across the grey-green pupils of your eyes, dropping bunches of fresh beets to celebrate your homecoming.
    You are now more at peace than you have ever been in your life. Your body feels the way it does after you’ve floated for an hour in warm seawater. The calcium in your bones and the iron in your blood are swarming with memories of how they were originally forged at the core of a red giant star that died billions of years ago.
    Now imagine that you’re dreaming, but you’re also wide awake. You’re both and neither. It’s not exactly like an out-of-body experience and it’s not exactly like virtual reality, yet it feels like both. You’re inthe Drivetime, the wormhole that connects the Dreamtime and the Waketime. You have become one with the Televisionary Oracle.
    What if
    by merely imagining these possibilities
    you have cast a brainy love spell
    on yourself,
    linking
    your conscious ego
    to the inaccessible part of your brain
    called
    your higher self
    or guardian angel
    or inner teacher?

I ’m back. It’s me, Rapunzel. The chick with the crazy parents and the heart problem and the blotch on my forehead and the twin brother who died in childbirth. I’m getting geared up to tell you another story about myself.
    But first I need to say a prayer.
    Dear Goddess, You Wealthy Anarchist Burning Heaven to the Ground:
    Charge me up with Your Death Medicine, that I may die every single day of my life.
    Trick me into figuring out how to kill my own death.
    O Goddess, You Sly Universal Virus with No Fucking Opinion:
    Teach me to incinerate my own hype. Not just other people’s sorry-ass self-promotion and megalomania, which are so infinitely easy to scourge—but my own, no matter how elegant and subtle I might imagine it is.
    Guide me to drop my act again and again, even the part of my act that is covertly proud of being the kind of wise-guy who drops her act again and again.
    Hey Goddess, Who Gives Us So Much Love and Grief Mixed Together That Our Morality is Always on the Verge of Collapsing:
    Brainwash me with your freedom
    so that I never love my own pain more than anyone else’s pain
    Amen. A-women. Ommmmmmm. And