Dos dias del descanso. Two days of rest. A long caffeine induced rant about my religion.

I’m off today and yesterday, but today I will not rest. I must pack my belongings and get ready to move into the tent.

I slept most of yesterday and reduced caffeine. This morning I was at the stage where I was starting to sleep more deeply and would have loved to go cold turkey on caffeine (how do you translate "cold turkey?" For whatever reason, it means stopping a drug, or stopping alcohol or smoking, completely and suddenly, no matter how painful it is.) But today I have to do this packing.

The caffeine pills don’t really energize me. Nothing does. Ginseng doesn’t either. Energy drinks only contain caffeine and ginseng and artificial vitamins. I avoided them for a long time because I heard they contained something toxic. They did, but it’s been removed. The one ingredient that caused kidney failure or death was, no doubt, probably the only ingredient that worked. Drugs that actually work are also the most toxic. They still often contain artificial sweeteners.

I desire so badly to stop every drug, to live a life without caffeine and herbs.

On a day when I absolutely must have energy, it’s cold and cloudy outside. I have the most energy if it’s clear and sunny.

I need to check on my tent, but surely the buses won’t run on a holiday. I really don’t want to ride my bike that far. I have so little energy as it is.

Last night I walked by Mike when he was talking on the phone to his sister. She came over once. She seemed like a sullen, fat, ugly, miserable idiot with a horrible bowl haircut, a person who barely spoke and who radiated constant dislike and distrust towards me. I suspect she is the same personality type that I am, which is unfortunate. Type runs in families. On the phone she could barely form a sentence three words long. And English is her first language.

Why do I dislike her so much? Because I suspect she is the "enforcement branch." She will throw my belongings into the front yard in the rain. She also strongly reminds me of Mary Jo, my previous landlady who wanted Max neutered. She, too, was a fat, ugly, stupid slug with a horrifyingly bad bowl haircut, as though she wanted to deliberately make herself as ugly as possible and make an already bad situation worse. I don’t insult people’s physical appearance unless I have some other reasons to dislike them very strongly. I had a lot of reasons to hate Mary Jo, and this sister of Mike’s really seemed to dislike me before I even had a chance to dislike her first, that one day when she came over. So let loose the flames of dislike. I can dislike her right back.

I don’t want to move my stuff, but after I do, it will be easier. I will wash in the sink in a bathroom in town. I will be closer to work and won’t need to catch a bus.

I won’t go into a whole lot of detail, but a few years ago, I imagined an "intentional religion," similar to an intentional community, where you design a real community where people agree to live a certain way. I did this partly because of hearing voices in my head, and partly because I am very dissatisfied with the way the world is, and I have solutions to a lot of the world’s problems, but no power to make anyone listen to me.

I’m not sure if any new coworkers actually ARE reading my blog or not, but, I am a stable peaceful person who isn’t going to go crazy and start killing anybody. I’m not like that. People on the internet talk about acceptance of people who hear voices, because almost all are normal, nonviolent, non-crazy people.

So, in my religion, I have actually started praying to my own gods, a trinity of man, woman, and child. I don’t like how Christianity got rid of female deities and made their trinity into this "father, son, and holy spirit" crap, which is a bunch of penis worship. The father is the man, the son is the man’s penis, and the holy spirit is the semen. I don’t like this unbalanced, unequal obsession with the man and nothing but the man. The dead Christ is nothing but a flaccid penis after orgasm. The cave that his body is inside of is a vagina. The boulders blocking the cave are testicles. Pull away the testicles, and the dead penis also magically is removed from the vagina, just like the body of Christ that vanished from the cave. Whoop-de-doo, it’s a miracle! Wait about a day or maybe half a day, or a few hours at least, and a dead penis can come back to life, just like Jesus. The vagina is heaven. The labia are the heavenly gates. If you look at the labia it looks like an angel wearing a robe.

All of this sexual symbolism, sex worship, and preoccupation with sex is idiotic and tiresome to me. I love sex as much as the next person, but have no desire whatsoever to make it into a bunch of secret symbols and then worship it. That movie, the Da Vinci Code, is one example of how this works, but I already knew about it before I watched that movie. And everyone is taught that these sex worship symbols are a literal fact and we’re supposed to be waiting for a literal guy to literally come back from literal death. It’s all horribly annoying after you understand what it means.

And all the secret societies, like freemasons, who have two triangles poking into each other – same thing. A penis is never pointed or shaped like a triangle unless it is uncircumcised, but how many of those stupid freemasons actually oppose circumcision? I bet most of them are mainstream Americans forcing everyone to get circumcised for the sake of conformity, not even caring or noticing that their sacred freemason symbol is a pointed, uncut penis going into the wineglass-shaped woman’s crotch. Again, all of it is a crock of shit, or, as Care Bear says, comer mierda. I’ve learned all the bad things that I shouldn’t say, from him. This is actually quite helpful.

I’ve had caffeine pills. Sorry for all the ranting and the bile.

So well anyway! I preferred the symbol described by that guy, Cory Goode or whatever, two overlapping circles with a dot in the overlap and a circle around them. It’s more like a man, woman, and child inside the circle of family. The guy who writes long stories about negotiating with aliens who have lived underground for thousands of years.

I went off on a tangent. I made up a name, based on a previously made up name. "Nahia" was a name I made up, and I played with that name and changed it to Anaya. It turns out Anaya is a real person’s name in Spanish, but I didn’t intend to be referring to that name. So Anaya is the religion and the name of the trinity.

I have been actually praying to Anaya when I meditate. Without lots of drugs, I would not do this at all. It’s all the caffeine, ginseng, and any other herbal drugs.

But, I have tried to make this trinity realistic in a way. It is not the Christian god or the clone of any other god. I say things like "if you were here, you would do or say this," acknowledging that they are not here. It is a finite god who is not all powerful, did not create the universe, is not all knowing or all encompassing, and chooses not to read minds or use mind control. Anaya knows mind control is real, and teaches it literally to its disciples, but forbids its use.

I have to envision someone who is powerful, good, and knowing. They know of mind control but don’t use it, because they are good. They are fighting against it. They teach explicitly that it is real. For me this includes technological, electronic mind control with radio frequency weapons and anything else like that. Anaya’s job is to build physically shielded rooms for people to retreat into, and it teaches that when you pray or meditate, there are unwanted intruders listening to you and pretending to be your gods. No other religion explicitly teaches this.

I’d stop praying if I were drug free and caffeine free. I do it because I spend countless hours in bed, forced awake and unable to do anything but lie there awake and thinking.

Anaya has a safeguard to prevent it from developing in the wrong directions. To become an elder of Anaya you have to be EEG typed as either SLI or IEE. This religion belongs to those two types, who I call the "eighth house" of socionics. Anaya can be made to include other personality types, but those types need their own gods with their own identities and cannot be the same god as Anaya. Why? Because it’s annoying as fuck when an entire huge religion is built around a genocidal asshole god whose personality type is LSI, my socionic quasi identical, who murders entire cities on a whim, and I’m supposed to love this genocidal asshole instead of loving a god whose values and personality are similar to my own. The Christian god is truly a bloodthirsty, judgmental, murderous bastard. I never liked him. I can’t reconcile that murderous bastard with the lovey dovey friendly god that Christians try to sell to me nowadays. God doesn’t suddenly change into a nice guy. He’s still a murderous fucking genocidal bastard who plays games with your life, watches while you suffer, and forms a partnership with Satan as his enforcement arm to terrorize you into obedience. This is what I gather by melding togethet what’s in the bible along with "popular" mainstream Christianity, which comes from many sources besides the bible. I’m 41 years old, and I have strongly disliked the Christian god all my life.

So, to avoid having Anaya co-opted by people whose values are alien to me, I limited the trinity Anaya to only the eighth house. However, I do not know whether children are born with random personality types. We love our children regardless of their types. So the children must receive their own gods separate from Anaya if they are not in the eighth house. They are made into a separate branch of the religion that grows its own way and has its own name. This is a polytheistic religion. They pray to the gods whose personalities they can relate to. Anaya is the starting point where these branches, these spinoffs, start from. They are meant to grow and develop new separate independent religions. That way it meets more people’s needs, rather than forcing everyone everywhere to pray to one single god who I can’t relate to and who always seemed like a murderous douchebag to me. I just cannot find it in my heart to love and worship their vision of god. And after being electronically mind controlled by voices who tried to force me to pray to God, I like him even less than I did originally.

So Anaya – finite, out there somewhere, a race of people whose goal is to reproduce themselves and their culture, and to build themselves a haven, an intentional community, a safe place where they can live their way and be protected against electronic mind control.

I hate when the caffeine pills just cause me to obsessively blog for hours without giving me energy.

Again let me clarify: Anaya lets in people of all types, but they will each receive a god who represents their own type and their socionic dual, the beloved. Anaya is the tree trunk from which other gods grow as branches, and those can become separate religions if they wish to violate Anaya’s core laws, the basic rules, a small number of rules. I can’t write it all now while thumb typing on my phone. But for example, Anaya forbids haircutting. If your new religion absolutely insists they must cut hair, then they are now a separate, independent religion. Anaya gave them a start but will not support them. Anaya provides literal, physical, material, practical support, like money, food, housing, and land to live on.

I have to get up and start this unbearable task of moving out. The caffeine pills aren’t helping. They only made me want to write about my intentional religion. I will somehow do this unbearable task, with pain and trauma.

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