Be Not Afraid: Angels Aliens Entities | Joeys Most Frightening DMT Experience

In fact, variations of the phrase, do not be afraid, appear around biblical literature upwards of 365 times, so every day with a pun intended. In strictly the canonical, it is uttered by angels over 140 times. The reason is clear. When a person is chased down and confronted by a flaming wheelhouse of flying eyeballs, it tends to cause a little stress. This throws us head on into another important question. What’s up with all the eyeballs? Between biblically accurate angels and modern abductions by the grace, and just about every painting by this cat, plausibly depicting our foremost subject of course, there is a persistence of communication through the eyes.

But why eyes? If you ask me, the reason is clear to see, and I mean literally, but in reverse. Let me riff for a second. Humans are naturally symbolic and psyche, so when something is super obvious we tend to look right past it, assuming some kind of cryptic meaning. Sometimes things work fine at face value and don’t need to be decoded as something more. In the case of hyper intelligent entities having soul piercing eyes, all the way to being literally a swarm of fiery feathered eyeballs, this is the best way to convey sentience to a person that may or may not be freaking out.

Think about it. Eyes are alive and aware above all else. Any other familiar body part, say an ear or a leg, is just that, an ear or a leg, and wouldn’t convey a sense of living awareness outside of its job to hear or walk. Plus if it were ears, the entities would probably have to say be not weirded out right now. The eye is an archetype of sheer sentient awareness at square one, and the first thing to get out of the way if you are a formless being trying to communicate, digress, because those words form and communicate come with our biggest hint as to who and what these entities are.

You’ll notice eyes seem necessary in ecstatic communication, but despite all of this communication taking place, the formation of a mouth is rarely if ever utilized by these beings. Even in the most tangible archetype, the gray alien, the mouth is described as barely there, especially in contrast of staring down the intra-psychic shotgun barrel of these twin hams upstairs. This is a brass indication that they themselves are not anatomically singular with the structure we see them as, i.e. those ain’t their bodies, and the idea of a home-based form is probably alien to them.

Clearly both the grays and DMT entities are fascinated with our reproductive biology, but this notion of intrigue might go much deeper than just biological research. Some rather passionate DMT recreationalists have mustered the certitude to ask their otherwise otherworldly hosts, is this your true form? The answer is always no, often accompanied with a resounding not even close. This form is a way for you to comprehend us. They call them the formless, and formlessness is an archetypal staple throughout biblical and shamanic lore as well. Those unlucky fools who are clever enough for a follow-up quandary always ask the same question.

Well, let’s see it. Can I see your true form? In answering this, we see slight variations between angels, entities, and alien beings who either say no or give a quick warning before overwhelming the mortal human mind with a fear they will never be able to describe to a therapist or a counselor. At least I’m not calling it Deamer like your obnoxious cousin with the W in his name. I too took a long break once from the MQL, once upon a time, after I too had the audacity. Let me see the real you.

Sure enough, my host went from a comparably comforting swarm of eyeballs and lightning-winged dings into something that makes me even think about it. I wasn’t ready for it, and I don’t see how anyone could be. All of a sudden, I understood your boy Howard a lot better and relate with new paranoia’s unlocked as to why he writes of a man who gouges his own eyes out to avoid witnessing some non-Euclidean abomination with no parallel lines and is jaywalking, too, probably, and other tomfoolery, maybe gerrymandering. Likewise, I also came to better understand parts of the Bible that depict this fright with a poet’s rhetoric.

Daniel, in 10, 5-9, had the balls to lift his eyes to an angel, only to find that its body was like Beryl, and his face like the breaking of lightning and no strength remained in me. In Judges 13, Manoah and his crew fall to their faces assuming, surely we will die now that we have seen the face of God. Isaiah 6, 1-5, and John in Revelation 22 are singing similar tunes when they collapse in fear and worship at the sight of what must be God, but are quickly corrected by an angel who says, you must not do that, I am a fellow servant.

Amazing that all of the above, angels, aliens, and entities will not hesitate to claim, hey man, I just work here. Despite being leagues above human imagination, they have a goal. And I wonder if this is cause for some misconceptions about their identity, like the cat with a fishing lure stuck in its lip assumes its helper to be an attacker, if a job needs done or a lesson learned, more thorough help needed, etc. And their very presence is frightening to the human in the first place. The side effect of that human stress is an assumption toward demonic forces.

I left out an important example from our game earlier. I didn’t want to dampen the mood. This little pseudo-manuscript contains a recording of each of my personal travels. All except for one. In short, a mechanical fly holding a weird box looked at me and smiled with a full set of human teeth and opened the box. Out came everything I feared and things I didn’t know I feared. Dread is not even the right word. In his world, my attentive focus was on a manual leash. I couldn’t look away, nor could I even speak out against it.

There was no, you gotta tough it out until the trip is over. That spiel doesn’t work when it has access to the reactivity controls that you thought were yours. All you can do is freak out. Months later, I knew I had to face my fear and go back in. To better understand myself. Plus, I couldn’t let that be my final experience with it. Cause then the demon wins, right? Nah, not today son. I figured this brush with a demon means to aim more carefully. So, my next run cleared some things up. And left others a mystery, of course.

My host, this time, toured me over a circuit board landscape pocked with various boxes. Each box was one of my experiences. The trip was pleasant and informative. As my host was urgent yet calmly dishing out various musings, he paused because he saw me notice it. One of the boxes was black, like a rotten tooth in an otherwise healthy line of molars. It was an export of my experience with the fly. The worst experience of my life, right there, fleshed out on repeats to be seen from our safe and distant perspective. Without hesitation, I said, I’ll visit anywhere, but I don’t want to come near that box.

Then he said one line that echoes throughout my entire life, probably forever. You don’t have to, but if you can sit in that box voluntarily and be at peace, you’ll be free. My host was making clear to me the sacrifice needed for total liberation in this life and the next, and the next, and the next. The kind of sacrifice made by the Christ, Veracocha, Thoth, all of them, the whole gang. The sacrifice needed to live outside of time-space samsara is to experience it in full, but it can be ushered by a quickening, an unimaginably dark process of alchemy.

Well, in that moment, I chickened out. My host was neither surprised nor disappointed. I can’t do it all at once. But since then, I have made a conscious effort to move in the direction of that black cube in slow increments, by doing things that are hard, growing immune to the pain, and then increasing the hardness. Don’t confuse this with physical endurance alone, though. Walking on hot coals is a global tradition, but it’s symbolic of something much bigger. There are dark forces working on Earth, paranormal or not. The pain we absorb takes some of that weight off of the rest of the world.

Sounds mystical, but is actually grounded in logical cause and effect. Battered hands and beaten feet, adapt by growing a hard, callous surface. The same goes for mind, emotions and psyche, becoming skilled and know-how. But now you’re dangerous, so you seek higher virtues from wiser men and women. They all sang the same tune. Keep the sword sheathed and the mind shepherded. This is the whip and staff of the pharaoh who was king of himself first before he was qualified to King Nations. He has volunteered to endure the black cube, and willfully so.

I might have brushed up with a demon who got the best of me, sure. And that demon might exist objectively outside of my experience, also sure. But above that black cube, I was looking down at the experience at the same time, with a host who was kind enough to walk me through it. Was the teethy fly guy a fraction of my wiser host? I don’t know, and I might never know. But that ignorance might be the point when learning what we need to learn. Think of your child taking a written test. You see them select C when the answer is B.

You can’t tell them the answer is B. That’s cheating and they’ll fail the test by default. So instead you make a throat clearing noise or accidentally kick the leg of his chair. The entities in gray that we have encountered for all of human history won’t let us grow up in a safe, disinfected bubble. Like babies not exposed to peanuts, we become allergic children. Unfortunately, this requires a cosmic tough love. A cosmic abandonment that feels like cosmic indifference. So finding the identity of these cosmic absent fathers can’t be done with neuroscience and or plausibly watered down biblical literature alone.

Even direct experience with 70 milligrams of DMT tends to be a fleeting reunion at most. For a clearer picture with solid foundation, we need to visit human people, just like us who are actually close friends with these entities. We need to learn from those whose literal job description is as intermediary between us and the unseen. We should turn to the most misunderstood people on Earth, people that the modern Western world has come to call schizo. But the rest of the world know better as shamans. Before and throughout history, shamanism has been a job.

Individuals were obligated to do so. [tr:trw].