Magic never dies

Magic never dies

by Jon Rappoport

October 16, 2015

(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)

“Imagination can produce a level of well-being that is bulletproof, in the sense that, no matter what happens in life, there is a back-up, there is something that can be created beyond the current crisis…” (The Magician Awakes, Jon Rappoport)

“When I use the word ‘magic’, I mean everything that can spring from imagination. Not the silly little things. The big things. The launching of entirely new realities that outdistance what this society is producing. And setting a limit on what the individual can imagine and create, and how far he can go, is very much like promoting the idea that every human is ill and should be a medical patient all his life. It’s sheer propaganda that seeks the lowest common denominator, as a sales gimmick. Except in the case of imagination, we’re talking about the future of civilization and human life on the planet—whether it rises or falls, whether the population finally accepts the notion that every person is a victim and there is no way out…” (Notes on Exit From The Matrix, Jon Rappoport)

In the human psyche, from the moment a newborn baby emerges into the light of day, he/she has a desire for magic.

We are told this is an early fetish that fades away as the experience of the world sets in. As maturity evolves. As practical reality is better understood.

In most areas of psychology, sensible adjustment to practical reality is a great prize to be won by the patient. It marks the passage from child to adult. It is hailed as a therapeutic triumph.

In truth, the desire for magic never goes away, and the longer it is buried, the greater the price a person pays.

A vaccine against a disease can mask the visible signs of that disease, but under the surface, the immune system may be carrying on a low-level chronic war against toxic elements of the vaccine. And the effects of the war can manifest in odd forms.

So it is with an inoculation of reality aimed at suppressing magic.

One of the byproducts of the “reality shot” is depression.

The person feels cut off from the very feeling and urge he once considered a hallmark of life. Therefore, chronic sadness. Of course, one explains that sadness in a variety of ways, none of which gets to the heart of the matter.

It is assumed that so-called primitive cultures placed magic front and center simply because “they couldn’t do better.” They didn’t have science, and they couldn’t formulate a “true and rational” religion with a church and monks and collection plate and a European choir and an array of pedophiles.

Historically, the impulse for magic had to be defamed and reduced and discredited. Why? Obviously, because the Westerners who were poking through ancient cultures had already discredited magic in themselves—they had put it on a dusty shelf in a room in a cellar beyond the reach of their own memory. But they couldn’t leave it alone. They had to keep worrying it, scratching it, and so they journeyed thousands of miles to find it somewhere else—and then they scoffed at it and tried to crush it.

And we wonder why, under the banner of organized religion, there has been so much killing. At a deep level, the adherents know they’ve sold their souls and they’re depressed, angry, resentful, remorseful, and they want to assuage and expiate their guilt through violence.

But the urge for magic is forever.

And yet the charade goes on. While paying homage and lip service to ordinary practical reality seasoned with a bit of fairy-tale organized religion, people actually want to change reality, they want to reveal their latent power, they want to create realities that, by conventional standards, are deemed impossible.

They want to find and use their own magic.

In our modern culture, we’re taught that everything is learned as a system. That, you could say, is the underlying assumption of education. It has far-reaching consequences. It leads to the systematizing of the mind. The mind is shaped to accommodate this premise.

“If I want to know something, I have to learn it. Somebody has to teach it to me. They will teach it as a system. I will learn the system. I will elevate the very notion of systems. Everything will be a system.”

In the long run, that gets you a lump of coal in a sock, a spiritual cardboard box to live in.

The intellectual enrolls at Harvard, he studies anthropology for six years, he flies to a jungle in South America, he digs up remnants of a lost culture, he infers they performed arcane ceremonies six times a week, he writes monographs—and he concludes they were a very picturesque society with fascinating customs and totems, and their brand of magic can best be understood as an inevitable consequence of their matriarchal organization, which itself was an accommodation to rainfall levels.

Back home, the anthropologist takes two Paxil and goes off to teach a class on the meaning of ancient eyebrow trimming in Tierra del Fuego.

Systems are wonderful things. They produce results. They take us into technological triumphs. They help us become more rational. But when they are overdone, when the mind itself becomes shaped like a system, it reaches a dead-end. Then the mind works against the unquenchable desire for magic. Then society is organized as a tighter and tighter system and turns into a madhouse.

And then people say, “Maybe machines can actually think and choose and decide. Maybe machines are alive. What would happen if we grafted computers on to our brains? It might be wonderful.”

People move in this direction after their own minds have been shaped, like putty, into systems. They don’t see much difference between themselves and machines.

The desire for magic in every individual is squelched. So the first order of business is the restoration of imagination, from which all magic flows. Imagination is sitting there, always ready, waiting.

Imagination is saying, “The mind has been shaped into a system? I can undo that. I can liberate the mind and make it into an adventurous vessel. I can provide untold amounts of new energy.”

Life is waiting for imagination to revolutionize it down to its core.

Since imagination is a wild card that technocrats can’t absorb in their systems, they pretend it a faculty produced by the action of atoms in the brain. They pretend it is a delusion that can be explained by demonstrating, for example, that a machine can turn out paintings. Or poems.

“You see? We don’t need humans to make art. Computers can do just as well. Imagination isn’t mysterious at all.”

Technocracy and transhumanism flow from the concept that the human being is just another machine. And any machine can be made to operate more efficiently.

Meanwhile, imagination waits. It never vanishes. It stands by, just in case an individual decides to live a life that overflows with creative power.


exit from the matrix


If my work in this area has any organized precedent, it is ancient Tibet where, 1500 years ago, before the priests took over with their interminable spiritual baggage of ritual, practitioners engaged in exercises that engaged imagination to the hilt.

This was not about ultimate worship. This was not about some deep substrate in the Universe that one could plug into, to guide his actions and thought. It was about liberating the individual from all systems. It was about endless creation.

The first teachers of this Way came from India, where they had been pushed out of the academies of orthodox religious instruction. They were rebels. They had offloaded the metaphysical labyrinths of control. They were, in a sense, artists. Artists of reality.

They were brilliant riverboat gamblers, and in Tibet, for a time, they found a home.

They found students who, as now, were tired of the preaching designed to make humans into sophisticated mind-machines.

These people wanted more. They wanted to awaken their own imaginations and exceed the illusory boundaries of one space and one time.

They wanted magic.

Despite every cynical ploy, that desire is still alive.

Jon Rappoport

The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.

4 comments on “Magic never dies

  1. And here is the answerable debate, Jon.

    Does “creativity” come from somewhere or is it spontaneous? Whereas I disagree with brain real estate and “mind mapping”, I know that time is constructed from unlimited preformed scenarios (made out of light). Therefore, “free will” is restricted to “choice” limited only by [DNA] representative physicality.

    Love your analogies. Perfect.

    Best
    OT

  2. Gökmen says:

    I remember hearing Alan watts saying
    “maya means illusion in a very complex sense. It means also, creative power; art, magic, calculation”
    and your approach is all about expanding this. With logic.
    Very,very, very very great piece. Blew my mind. Thank you Mr. Rappoport.

  3. E Tee says:

    Thank you Jon! I’m a relatively new subscriber and this is the first newsletter that I’ve made time for to read and think about. Most of what you have said here resonates deeply and it reminds me of one of my favorite quotes made by Einstein, “Imaginations is more important intelligence.” If ANYONE was both smart and wise, I’d say Einstein fits that description. I’ll make it a habit of reading your emails and thanks for the deeply thought-provoking material! krys

  4. lo says:

    This is why I love spending time with babies and toddlers. Everything, and I mean everything is an adventure. You live in the moment. I’m convinced we’re born knowing everything, and then we’re taught, or life teaches us, to forget everything and we spend our lives trying to get back to where we were at the beginning…knowing everything.

    They hold the magic of life and being with them reminds me somewhere in the corner of my mind, that it’s possible to go back. What we think we’ve lost is only forgotten, not gone.

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