It has been suggested, by some eminent philosopher or other, that light might well experience pain through the action of being split apart in a prism, or indeed by any other process which reveals the spectrum. While, to most of us in our daily lives, the idea that light is conscious of pain, or anything else for that matter, is preposterous, if we really think about, light is the only kind of conscious life there is. Light is the basis for the physical and temporal world, and it is only by virtue of its luminescence that we are brought to any form of conscious awareness, whatsoever.
The alchemists refer to this conscious light as the Divine Light. This article on Alchemical Redemption, which was brought to my attention by Eleleth, states that;
The cosmos, according to Paracelsus, contains the divine light or life, but this holy essence is enmeshed in a mechanical trap, presided over by a kind of demiurge, named by Paracelsus Hylaster (from hyle, "matter," and astrum, "star"). The cosmic spider-god has spun a web within which the light, like an insect, is caught, until the alchemical process bursts the web. The web is none other than the consensus reality composed of the four elements of earth, water, fire and air, within which all creatures exist.
While there may be; as Ingo Swann suggested, another universe existing trapped inside the mechanism of the LHC, it need not follow that our world is trapped inside a much larger version of this machine, as specified in the last post; The Lovely Bone Collider. An article in the AAC No. 11 suggests that our universe is instead trapped inside a Holographic Plate Tracklist Compiler, which is itself connected to a perpetual motion machine, both of which are devices developed by inventor and composer Sven Warwick.
The Holographic Plate Tracklist computer was as simple in design as it was ingenious. It worked by generating a series of complex and fluidly shifting computer codes that would evolve over time. The structure of this device consisted of several concentric shells; eight in the original design, reduced to just seven in later models. These carbon fibre shells rotated around a reflected helium-neon laser. Each shell had an increasing number of adjustable holographic gratings, whose number (if the initial light source is aslo included) conformed to the 8th Pythagorean number triangle;
4 5 6
7 8 9 10
11 12 13 14 15
16 17 18 19 20 21
22 23 24 25 26 27 28
29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36
It seems likely to me that all of the phenomena we experience in day to day reality could be the result of the inner convolutions of just such a machine, whose purpose is as mundane as keeping track of all of Sven Warwick's disorganised compositions. The white light that emanates from the centre of the concentric shells is equivalent to Divine Light of the Paracelsus and the alchemists, in so far as it is trapped inside the rotating mechanism that rents its source into a myriad of dancing forms and colours. How does it do this, you might ask? No-one knows, it is as natural and inexplicable, as the universe itself.
The four elements of the universe; fire, earth, water and air, are merely the four properties of the tracklister; light, dark, interference and spin. The combination of these four elements generate the complexity of reality, and are inseparable from it. As it says in the Prasna Upanishad; Beyond these no one can go.
The 7 shells of the device are equivalent to the 7 chakras of the human body, where as the central light source is equivalent to the subtle energy of the soul. Throughout our lives these rotating shells are extended telescopically to form the human body, but at the point of death they contract inwards, to resume their original concentric configuration. The fundamental ubiquity of this system is how it came to be expressed in the combinatoric binary of the I Ching, and why the benevolent three-eyed aliens from Sirius destroyed entire star systems to construct large-scale versions of it to worship, en masse.
If this machine has been hooked up to a perpetual motion machine, which has then been neglected in some dark corner of a room it could conceivably run forever. As Divine Concious light, then, trapped in this machine, we must seek emancipation from the labyrinthine gateways of the tracklist compiler. How are we to do this?
Only by remaining perfectly still, in body and mind, can we effect liberation through the 7 gates of the ceaselessly shifting maze. This will not be difficult to do, or it might be impossible; as the machine that is a dream-machine is only a dream, after all.