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I want to travel again to the silence of the depths, because when I think, I get lost in the noise, and when I find myself there, listening to nothingness, I will once again dimension with my words, and the architecture of the prison will be ordered in principle, towards the digital end... it is my reality after the truth.

Javi James

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Ry of a her
etic.

 

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Introduction.

Welcome to this humble and unusual journal. If you've arrived here, it's by intuition, so life has brought us together in some mysterious, perhaps algorithmic, way. In this space, I publish articles based on my essay, which I passionately develop as a therapist and yogi disciple. You'll also find altruistic, perhaps even activist, work that is part of my life, as a castaway and a missionary. Within this context, the Neo Yoga Sutra and Neuropsychotronics are essential components of this study.

A heretic is one who chooses to become one, and a yogi is one who, as a disciple, is more righteous than foolish. Therefore, I understand that the only absolute is love, a set of forces that take on relative forms at every step. For in life, any resemblance to reality is mere appearance, and only through our will is the code of destiny revealed and overwritten, its meaning transcending the machine toward pure consciousness. Therefore, the value of our lives lies in individual experience, which ambiguously integrates any contextual simulation.


A yogi is one who chooses ethics and discipline, one who commits to moving autonomously, laughing at their own erratic behavior and being a humble example of dharma... a hacker with style.


Clinical epistemological essay.

I study neurofunctional models of consciousness and their execution algorithms, primarily through my therapies. Beyond the persona, I assume this task as a commitment, because I understand that within each of us resides a school, within each of us there is endogenous poetry... and this... is my poetry; Sutra Hydra Surji, modeling consciousness.

Paradoxical as it may sound, my study is conclusive, yet incomplete, and I understand that it will remain so, even though it continues ceaselessly, because I am part of it. Nevertheless, I have observed with awe the angular movement of consciousness and its compass as two interrelated models in a systemic way. Ambiguously, this natural system that sustains reality as we know it is simulated with programs and circuits under a certain encryption to condition mental functions of consciousness, thus achieving the experience of a reality that includes the total distortion of the original. This origin would rest as an allegorical concept, because the literal understanding of what we call reality can only be revealed with scientific rigor through the electromechanical logic that I call neuropsychotronics, and it can only be truly experienced and understood through the pulse of love, which activates neurofunctional processes of consciousness and decrypts the potential blocked by the fiction that never existed and will never cease to exist.

Every simulation is susceptible to hacking, or cheating, like in a video game mission, but it won't be through impulsive combat, but rather through internal drive. In psychotronic terms, this would mean that our inner engineering must create a bridge from the secondary system to the primary, or zero point, thereby modifying the electrodynamics. Epigenetics that blocks a source code is deliberate and very well-crafted; that is, everything has a reason for being, and to exist, it must begin from the heart, begin from the heart, begin from the heart.


The artificial is created as a fiction that underlies the natural; otherwise, it could not be created. Therefore, by deduction, if nature expresses itself as a fiction, but fiction is only that, nature can only exist if we accept that fiction.

The architecture of the exact is the beautiful illusion of an inexact constant.

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Reality as we know it has intermittent glitches, because love stalks it like a massive hack, threatening the machine with inevitable apoptosis, and that demands its firewall be constantly adjusted. So here we are, in the greatest game ever created… as beautiful as it is perverse.

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