Thursday, June 8, 2017

Why the Word "Letoosen" Is So Important

So lately I've been having some, for lack of a better word, visions. But I don't want to make a claim that I'm somehow special because of them. Like I've said before, I'm not a prophet. They're not that different from dreams, actually, with the exception that they happen during the day. And moreover, they mainly happen through sound.

But there's more to it than that. This isn't regular imagination, a "sound in the mind's ear," but something louder. Not quite as loud as regular sound (to where you could confuse it with someone in the room's voice), but it's much closer than, say, a song in your head.

Moreover, I am completely aware that this happens in my imagination. They come in English, but if I was French, they would be in French.  And yet they do not begin in my imagination; the inspiration that comes through merely shows itself to me there. It is as if the inspiration, descending into my mind, clothed itself in what it found there.

However, there is a level where you can notice the pure meaning of these inspirations without any sound, color, or any other sensory content to go with them. It is pure meaning. Nevertheless, it does not happen instantaneously, but in a process extended through time. In that way, it's rather like music, only without any actual tone. The "tone" in this music is pure "quality.: You don't feel it in your body, but if it became less pure, you would feel it there. Likewise, you don't hear it in words or see it in color or form, although you very well might if it clothed itself in the contents of your memory.

As such, if you pay attention to this "quality," often sensory forms like color and words will happen anyway, even though you don't pay attention to it. It's like a word heard out of the corner of your ear. You almost don't hear it; in fact, you only notice it after the fact. These words and colors are the pure meaning mentioned above as it "descends" into your memory, and yet it only really goes to that sensory level if you're not looking at it. If you look at pure meaning, the meaning will descend into the sensory; if you look at the sensory, you get neither the sensory nor any meaning.

Recently, I've taken to recording this "detritus" of pure meaning. And while a lot of it is in meaningful English, some of it is purely phonetic. And this is really cool - instead of using words from a dictionary with a history going back thousands of years, it makes its own words based on how they sound. And this is able to communicate concepts that everyday language can't.

As such, I will try to communicate some of these phonetic revelations to you in the rest of this post. There were two questions: what is the best way to handle lust, and what is the worst way to handle lust? The answers were Letoosen and Mroon, respectively. Keep in mind that this is an embodiment of pure meaning. As we investigate the sounds here, we are coming close to that state of mind.

Summary: Letoosen is the process by which inner energy, experienced in sexual desire, yoga, love, the burning in the bosom, etc, is returned to the outer world instead of walling it up in the inner form.

The returning is the L, as seen in words like "let," "laisser," (French) "leave," and "lose." The sound "l" begins strongly and then slowly drops off. It is perhaps the softest consonant. Its quality is one of softly returning what one has wrongfully taken.  "L-" is the consonant of consecration. L is symbolically demonstrated by the act of leaving a present by someone who is sleeping, without a name tag. It is the antithesis of pride: self-emptying, humility, repentance.

Anonymous presents, the epitome of L.

T is a sign of distinction. It demarcates, divides, or even cuts the "l-" from the "oo" that follows, for L and OO are very different. "T" is very sharp, like an incision by a sharp knife through flesh, strictly cutting things off. The tongue sharply going against the front of the mouth when you make this sound demonstrates this cutting quality very well. See: strict, cut.

T to a T

"Oo" is the vowel of pure, fiery energy. It resonates with deep, self-possessed power, not unlike the color purple. This is unlike "ee," which beams away its power. If "ee" is a flashlight beam, "oo" is the energy held within the battery. "Oo" don't need no form. See: Aum, doom.

The fiery energy of OO

"S" is the consonant of transmission. It conveys. When you make the sound with your mouth, it never totally drops off. It is always in process and ends rather arbitrarily. Snakes, whose motion represents this quality, therefore stereotypically talk with exaggerated "ssss" sounds. See: sliding, slither, snake, serpent, process, transmission, seem, slow, speed, start, stop

Ssslumbe the Snake from Banjo-Kazooie

is what OO is transmitted to by L. That is, a soft but definite finish. To end a word with "s," which is always in process, leaves an anticlimax, not unlike those stairs in Super Mario 64.

This is what happens if you end a thought in S.

Instead, N has a definite quality - the tongue puts itself on the roof of the mouth with precision, like a surgeon's knife, and yet not with the abruptness of a "t." This "n" is a giving toward the outside, a termination, an end. It has the character of an authority figure who is surprisingly kind. It is justice infused with mercy, consonant infused with vowel.

McGonagall (justice infused with mercy)

Together, these sounds tell this story: that of a consecration (l-) of lust (oo) to the outside (-n) though a continual process (-s). Consecrating 'l-", energetic and powerful "oo," transmitting "s," the outside other "n."

On the contrary, mroon is the exact opposite to letoosen: holding in sexual or spiritual energy and hoarding it:

M gets things off to a bad start from the beginning. As the sound of the lips coming together, it is already rather soft and squishy. It is not decisive like the "t" above but kind of lazy. It withdraws into itself. It crawls underneath its own blanket. It hides from the world in similitude to the womb. "M" is the consonantal "oo," which, instead of being its own power, hides inside itself. M is the box the child hides in, the womb he came from.

This is M. You don't even need to read the above paragraph.

R is the consonant which designates something energetic but self-enclosed. It is made by closing off the back of the throat. It is hardly a consonant, since no contact is actually made in the mouth. It does not demarcate; it only gestures. It doesn't snap; it only bends. And it is indulgent; R is the act where you say: "It's OK; you can stay up another hour. No harm done."

R is about to take place.

Oo means the same as it does above, though there are insights to eternity in its sound.

So does N, but with the caveat that the finality isn't toward the outside, placed there by the transmitting "sss," but staying inside, since M and OO just reinforce each other in the bending-and-never-breaking R.

Mroon has the character of laziness: "m" is lazy, and where it might have been transmuted into activity by a consonant like "s" or a vowel like "ee," it is exacerbated by "oo" and rounded into itself by "r" before ending with a squelch in "n." It is the futility of laziness.

Where Letoosen disburdens itself of energy by giving away what it doesn't need, Mroon hoards it. Letoosen gives itself to others; Mroon sucks others into itself. Letoosen is charity; Mroon is greed. Letoosen is chastity; Mroon is lechery.

The solution to any problems you may have with addiction and compulsion is Letoosen. By consecrating divine energy to the others it belongs to, you "let" the "oo" go out. On the conrary, Mroon "stores" the oo. OO is best outside, but it needs to be forced out. The L the S  do this.

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