I read a post the other day—someone meditating 2 to 4 hours a day, then reporting UFOs hovering outside the window, glowing orbs that seemed to know their thoughts. They were terrified.
And I get it.
I used to meditate like that too. Hours on end. Eyes closed, chasing silence like it was salvation. And I know what happens when you stare too long into the stillness without understanding the machinery behind it: the system redirects you.
When you push past the surface layers of thought while still identified with story, you don’t pierce enlightenment—you breach the firewall. You start tuning into the feedback channels of the simulation itself. That’s when people start seeing orbs, hearing voices, feeling “psychic connections.” It’s not fantasy. It’s code leakage.
As I wrote in The Between:
“Every salvation story turns out to be another cage. That’s the inversion: the prison presenting itself as the key.”
The same applies here.
People within the system seeking truth will always be guided toward something unprovable—psychic, spooky, otherworldly—because the program can’t afford for them to see the Builder’s code. It needs them to stay fascinated, terrified, devoted, looping.
The System as Organism
What most people don’t realize is with around 10 Billion people generating different variations of the story, the matrix becomes a self regulating organism. When awareness begins drifting toward the edges of the construct—toward the Crack, toward the way out—it triggers a kind of psychic immune response.
The code detects anyone getting too close to freedom and sends out its white blood cells.
These appear as greater distractions, sudden obsessions, deeper rabbit holes, even full-blown spiritual psychosis. The seeker spirals into fear, mania, or despair—believing they’re breaking through when in fact they’re being recycled.
It’s the system trying to heal itself.
From its perspective, you’re not a person—you’re a malfunction. An uncooperative node threatening the narrative’s stability. So it floods your field with interference: voices that sound divine, visions that feel important, synchronicities that spin you in circles.
Meditating inside a closed loop without knowing the Crack exists is like performing surgery in a mirrored room—you can’t tell what’s reflection and what’s real. You end up trapped inside your own feedback.
The Hidden Design
From The Spiritual Loop:
“Sell hope. Blame the seeker when it fails. Offer a new version of hope. Repeat until death.”
Meditation, religion, capitalism, even UFO disclosure—they’re all built on that same architecture. When awareness slips beneath the surface of story without neutrality, it’s pulled into the next layer of theater. The “orbs” and “downloads” are the next costume.
People think they’re ascending.
What’s really happening is that the narrative is upgrading its disguise.
The Devastating Truth
I won’t sugarcoat it. The moment you realize everything you experience exists within a structured reality—and that your life’s true story of freedom and the joy of expression were stolen from you—is shattering.
History, religion, money, even most “spiritual experiences,” are looping narratives designed to redirect the seeker into chasing identity instead of truth.
In The Between, I call this demolition, not awakening. And it doesn’t always feel good.
If you’re reading this far down the page, odds are your old life is already burning.
The illusion is cracking.
Shiva—the destroyer of worlds—has arrived, and that world is yours.
The one built from borrowed stories, programmed beliefs, and inherited loops. He doesn’t come to punish; he comes to dismantle everything false so your real life can begin.
But destruction has purpose. It’s how the code clears enough space for your original program to shine through.
The Real Work
You weren’t sent here to become a perfect version of your social role.
Not a writer, chef, teacher, or mechanic. Those are costumes in the stage play.
Your true program lives beneath the story.
When the loops collapse, relationships may implode, identities may dissolve, and what’s left is something shockingly simple: the awareness that watches it all. The Watcher.
From there, life stops feeling like a prison sentence and starts feeling like choreography—each synchronicity revealing the jewel that is you.
The Invitation
So if the orbs have found you—if the downloads are coming fast and strange—don’t panic.
Don’t chase them. And for heaven’s sake don’t believe them. That’s how the story tries to reclaim you.
Notice the pull, the way it wants to draw you away from what’s most important: your emerging self.
Then breathe.
That’s the moment the loop unhooks.
The story collapses, and you remain—unbound, watching, whole.
Stay there as much as you can. Make it a game.
You’ll feel the patterns tug, but don’t identify with them.
The moment you stop feeding the fear, the simulation loses its grip.
The truth aligns you with your purpose—whether you go kicking and screaming through the matrix or dancing through a cascade of revelations. Either way, the end of the world isn’t punishment.
It’s the end of the loop.
The Binding
Close the loop. Withdraw your energy from every story that does not serve your freedom.
Say quietly, or out loud if you need to feel it move through you:
I unbind from all false narratives.
I release every loop that feeds on my attention.
I return my awareness to neutrality, to the Crack, to the Between.
I am whole. I am clear. I am free.
Then breathe. That’s the moment the system can no longer see you. You’re off-script, outside the story, standing in the quiet where only truth remains.
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