nozeno
Gold Meritorious Patron
Hoo, boy!"Cognition"! *Sweetness snorts in derision!*
All right, cog.
The Little Thread Which Grew - the Apollo '73 to Everything But
- Thread starter lkwdblds
- Start date
- Status
All right, cog.
SweetnessandLight
Crusader
I wasn't snorting at you, Pard! 
Hatshepsut
Crusader
This is a very interesting subject indeed. What exactly is this set of automaticities running or furthering the body's progression thru time?Genetic Entity is similar towhat we commonly refer to as dna.. With some embelishment, drama and misunderstoods by Hubbard.Code:
Isn't it astonishing that important and major functions having to do with the body is seen by Hubbard as degraded?
My experience about it has been different depending on how charged up things were. I have had the bank ( the composite of the G.E.) so superchatged that it almost seemed indestructible. I swear to God...if I'd have walked across the street and been hit by a car it would've all snapped back to its original mold. The body was just that super keyed up. I consider this a lot of designer DNA put together. It has never been so beefed up as when trying to relive some space opera incidents on this planet. Just focussing attention on the area made my body feel it was shackled by iron clamps originating from some astral realm. In the gold zone it seems a mere eclectic loose knit collage of ideas.
I did have several crude realities present themselves while doing a PTS rundown one time. I had come across a LOT of timetrack that wasn't mine sitting in my space. I found it highly unusual. These were all victims whose death was by the hand of the same person. I had inherited a grouping who shared a common charge. This was amazing to me. Each one was boiling off in living color their charge on their SP. It to this day remains one of the most spectacular areas I ever had to look at.
I came to terms with the the fact that my body was replicating all the scenarios leading to their individual deaths.
I had to ask by what means these banks were transferred. Was it kinetic or telepathic or by projection...Well maybe a little but these were not the medium of transfer. It was through the body fluid. Through sex. I was a bit shocked at this...that these banks could have latched themselves to a procreation act and travelled encoded in ejaculated fluid. Sorry down to the nitty gritty but its very revealing. How does the G.E. create progressive genetic attachment to returning beings.
We would be blind not to notice that sex is the vehicle by which certain banks are shared and copied one to another.
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Hatshepsut
Crusader
We're running a special in the FCDC thread, today only.
You can post 10 messages for the price of 1.
Hurry, this offer won't last.
Be careful what you ask for.....you just may get it
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CarmeloOrchards
Crusader
We're running a special in the FCDC thread, today only.
You can post 10 messages for the price of 1.
Hurry, this offer won't last.
nozeno
Gold Meritorious Patron
I wasn't snorting at you, Pard!
I was trying to fit in.
Hatshepsut
Crusader
Since this thread is such a pot luck dinner tonight I thought I'd share what I saw at the airport parking on the same day last month.
I took these photos.
I was running thru the rental cars to find which one I left my sunglasses in.
I took these photos.
I was running thru the rental cars to find which one I left my sunglasses in.
Hatshepsut
Crusader
Looks like you forgot your beach blanket at home so decided to paint one on the sand. Poor doggie
Well hurray for things painted in the sand anyways
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programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
Hatshepsut said:
That is what some parts of the human brain does.
Look it up. It might surprise you.
These brain functions are not "conscious" brain activity. They regulate body functions and more...
The part of your brain activity that is what you "know" as yourself is only one small part of what goes on in the brain.
Hatshepsut
Crusader
I believe that. I have been watching the Charlie Rose Brain Series ad nauseum. Been lots of surprises though.
I have been dealing with handling some issues to calm down a PTS situation. I found in tracking down intentions and counter intentions that I am linking into areas of the brain. I mean when there is a strong vision and an impulse it seems to be anchored into a part of my brain. The intent has put down an anchor and is a true animating force. Some times these swell up and exert pressure. I have to acknowledge a communication or a goal that has been thwarted. Its scary. I surmise I have no real idea what the brain is.
I have a hard time getting into the physicality of the brain. I always seem to float back into the escoteric when dealing with its funtions. I have to keep reminding myself that it is an actual physical tool to relay commands. But part of me sees this like the tail wagging the dog.
.
http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/10694?sponsor_id=1
Click on 'collections' and hit Brain Series
We interface with the brain. How many beings can interface with the same brain at one time.
Would there necessarily have to be a difference in calibre between them.. I have even discovered intentions located in my brain by others having to do with directives for my life. I do not mean my head. It feels like it has been projected in my 'brain'.I wonder if we need a brain to make the world see 'solid' for us. I'll bet bunches of 'Notters' have already audited into this territory of the brain. It'd be nice to see the log books.
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CarmeloOrchards
Crusader
I'm a Giants fan, but this poor guy. I'm so sorry for him. He doesn't usually play this position. They've had too many people disabled.
Conrad’s costly errors hurt more than the Braves
By Tim Brown, Yahoo! Sports
ATLANTA – They booed Brooks Conrad’s stinkin’ highlight video, the one where he hit the grand slam and won a ballgame, back when he was the gritty lifer who played so hard and earned another big league shot after almost 5,000 plate appearances in the minor leagues.
They booed his errors and they booed his trip to the on-deck circle and they booed his at-bats and then I’m guessing they booed the thought of him on their drives home.
There’s a pretty good chance they’ll boo him when they come back for Game 4, too, considering all the stuff that’s happened in the past 10 days, all the dropped balls and bad throws and the runs and frightening moments they’ve allowed and the general feeling the young man can no longer rely on his motor skills.
He’d torn out their little, tomahawk-swinging hearts Sunday night at Turner Field and in the expanses of what they call Braves Country, and they’ll pound their fists and demand that manager Bobby Cox bench him, and they’ll be right, it’s probably time to find an option at second base that’s not Brooks Conrad, for everybody’s sake.
“I’ll have to sleep on it,” Cox said, but most believe he’ll take his chances with Troy Glaus at third and Omar Infante at second.
But Aunt Linda in Spring Valley, Calif. down San Diego way doesn’t care what they think or what they say, because they don’t know her Brooks. She’s been listening to what the men on television have been saying and can’t understand how it’s all gotten so personal, harping on Brooks can’t do this and Brooks can’t do that, and oh it was so awful Sunday she could barely look by the end.
She sat in the house with “the Grammies,” Mimi and Nora, and they watched and rooted and tried not to give up hope that maybe Brooks would come up in the ninth inning and show all those people what he could do. At 30, Brooks still comes home with his own kids – Jaxon is 3 and Reese is 1½ – and he sits in Grandma Mimi’s lap, like he did as a boy, just for fun and laughs and because Grandma Mimi gets such a huge kick out of it.
So when the ball went through Brooks’ legs and a run scored and the Braves lost to the San Francisco Giants 3-2 in Game 3 of the National League Division Series and the boos were so loud it hurt, Aunt Linda looked at the television. She looked into the red and watery eyes of Brooks, her nephew, her brother’s son, the kid she only knows as loyal and kind and hard-working. Brooks was standing there as sturdy as he could, feeling a season and a team of brothers come crashing down around him, wishing he could change any of it.
“It was just so sad,” Aunt Linda said. “Our hearts are aching.”
But, seeing Brooks hold it together, trying so hard to keep his head up and put one foot in front of the other, Aunt Linda couldn’t help but think of a boy she knows named Ben. Ben lives up in Coarsegold, Calif., in the mountains near Yosemite National Park. He’s Brooks’ nephew, and a good boy with some baseball talent. Ben, too, she knew, must have been watching Uncle Brooks play ball, make those mistakes, lose that game.
“Yet he didn’t give up,” Aunt Linda said. “Maybe this is Brooks’ lesson to his nephew, who adores him. Maybe that’s what this is.”
It’s hard to say what this is, exactly, other than to consider this young man is in over his head, and that this is what happens to an organization when Chipper Jones and Martin Prado are injured and can’t play, and when Glaus runs out of knees, and it believes too much in a player who believes so much in himself.
Conrad himself stood before his locker Sunday night and had no real explanation for the last 10 days, the eight errors in seven games, how the baseball keeps finding him and he keeps missing it. The sun was high and the infield gets hard and the shadows get long, and yet he’s made plays like this forever, at Monte Vista High School and Arizona State and all those God-forsaken minor league stops.
When Conrad got to Atlanta last summer, Cox had considered this determined dirt-dog of a player and announced, “Fans will love this kid,” and they did. And then they didn’t.
Surrounded by cameras and microphones, Conrad couldn’t mend the damage. He’d bobbled a first-inning grounder that made everyone nervous, but led to no runs. He’d dropped a second-inning popup that gave the Giants their first run. Then he’d stood in front of a ninth-inning bouncer, put his glove down and missed that, too, the baseball and the game spinning right through his legs.
“It was coming right at me,” he said, “Then it seemed to go right through me.”
Cox chugged out and changed pitchers. Conrad stood alone for a while, then Derrek Lee slowly walked over, told him to hang in there, rapped him on the butt with his mitt.
“It’s completely embarrassing,” Conrad said. “I feel like I let everybody down. It’s a whole lot to swallow, but I’ll do my best to get over it. I probably won’t for a long time, if ever. I wish I could dig a hole and sleep in there.”
By then, most of the Braves had come along and given him their go-get-‘em-tomorrows, their sympathies. It was a terrible day for the Braves, who’d appeared to have won the game with Eric Hinske’s home run in the eighth, only to head into Monday with elimination hanging over their heads. It was a terrible day for Conrad. And it was a terrible day to be a Braves fan, what with all their dreams for the refreshed organization and Cox’s sendoff.
Conrad wore every bit of it.
“I gotta play better than I’ve shown out there,” he said. “Like I said, I’m embarrassed.”
It wasn’t a great day in Spring Valley either, truth be told. But, Brooks will be OK. Aunt Linda is sure of it.
He’d called the house just a few days ago, matter of fact, just to say hey to Aunt Linda and the Grammies, to say he was holding up just fine and not to worry about him, that he’d see them soon, maybe, he said with a laugh, after the World Series.
“We’re really proud of you,” Aunt Linda shouted into the phone. “You’re really special to all of us.”
And then he hung up and went back to playing baseball, sure it would get better, sure he could make those plays and carry his weight and help them all win ballgames.
When he left the ballpark, he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, jangled a ring of keys in one of them, and promised to be back tomorrow. Whether he plays or not, they’ll be watching in Spring Valley.
“He’ll be OK because he’s strong,” Aunt Linda said. “He’s a strong person. I know that it hurt and he’s sensitive, too. I’m sure he’s down. But we’ll just keep praying for him.”
Conrad’s costly errors hurt more than the Braves
By Tim Brown, Yahoo! Sports
ATLANTA – They booed Brooks Conrad’s stinkin’ highlight video, the one where he hit the grand slam and won a ballgame, back when he was the gritty lifer who played so hard and earned another big league shot after almost 5,000 plate appearances in the minor leagues.
They booed his errors and they booed his trip to the on-deck circle and they booed his at-bats and then I’m guessing they booed the thought of him on their drives home.
There’s a pretty good chance they’ll boo him when they come back for Game 4, too, considering all the stuff that’s happened in the past 10 days, all the dropped balls and bad throws and the runs and frightening moments they’ve allowed and the general feeling the young man can no longer rely on his motor skills.
He’d torn out their little, tomahawk-swinging hearts Sunday night at Turner Field and in the expanses of what they call Braves Country, and they’ll pound their fists and demand that manager Bobby Cox bench him, and they’ll be right, it’s probably time to find an option at second base that’s not Brooks Conrad, for everybody’s sake.
“I’ll have to sleep on it,” Cox said, but most believe he’ll take his chances with Troy Glaus at third and Omar Infante at second.
But Aunt Linda in Spring Valley, Calif. down San Diego way doesn’t care what they think or what they say, because they don’t know her Brooks. She’s been listening to what the men on television have been saying and can’t understand how it’s all gotten so personal, harping on Brooks can’t do this and Brooks can’t do that, and oh it was so awful Sunday she could barely look by the end.
She sat in the house with “the Grammies,” Mimi and Nora, and they watched and rooted and tried not to give up hope that maybe Brooks would come up in the ninth inning and show all those people what he could do. At 30, Brooks still comes home with his own kids – Jaxon is 3 and Reese is 1½ – and he sits in Grandma Mimi’s lap, like he did as a boy, just for fun and laughs and because Grandma Mimi gets such a huge kick out of it.
So when the ball went through Brooks’ legs and a run scored and the Braves lost to the San Francisco Giants 3-2 in Game 3 of the National League Division Series and the boos were so loud it hurt, Aunt Linda looked at the television. She looked into the red and watery eyes of Brooks, her nephew, her brother’s son, the kid she only knows as loyal and kind and hard-working. Brooks was standing there as sturdy as he could, feeling a season and a team of brothers come crashing down around him, wishing he could change any of it.
“It was just so sad,” Aunt Linda said. “Our hearts are aching.”
But, seeing Brooks hold it together, trying so hard to keep his head up and put one foot in front of the other, Aunt Linda couldn’t help but think of a boy she knows named Ben. Ben lives up in Coarsegold, Calif., in the mountains near Yosemite National Park. He’s Brooks’ nephew, and a good boy with some baseball talent. Ben, too, she knew, must have been watching Uncle Brooks play ball, make those mistakes, lose that game.
“Yet he didn’t give up,” Aunt Linda said. “Maybe this is Brooks’ lesson to his nephew, who adores him. Maybe that’s what this is.”
It’s hard to say what this is, exactly, other than to consider this young man is in over his head, and that this is what happens to an organization when Chipper Jones and Martin Prado are injured and can’t play, and when Glaus runs out of knees, and it believes too much in a player who believes so much in himself.
Conrad himself stood before his locker Sunday night and had no real explanation for the last 10 days, the eight errors in seven games, how the baseball keeps finding him and he keeps missing it. The sun was high and the infield gets hard and the shadows get long, and yet he’s made plays like this forever, at Monte Vista High School and Arizona State and all those God-forsaken minor league stops.
When Conrad got to Atlanta last summer, Cox had considered this determined dirt-dog of a player and announced, “Fans will love this kid,” and they did. And then they didn’t.
Surrounded by cameras and microphones, Conrad couldn’t mend the damage. He’d bobbled a first-inning grounder that made everyone nervous, but led to no runs. He’d dropped a second-inning popup that gave the Giants their first run. Then he’d stood in front of a ninth-inning bouncer, put his glove down and missed that, too, the baseball and the game spinning right through his legs.
“It was coming right at me,” he said, “Then it seemed to go right through me.”
Cox chugged out and changed pitchers. Conrad stood alone for a while, then Derrek Lee slowly walked over, told him to hang in there, rapped him on the butt with his mitt.
“It’s completely embarrassing,” Conrad said. “I feel like I let everybody down. It’s a whole lot to swallow, but I’ll do my best to get over it. I probably won’t for a long time, if ever. I wish I could dig a hole and sleep in there.”
By then, most of the Braves had come along and given him their go-get-‘em-tomorrows, their sympathies. It was a terrible day for the Braves, who’d appeared to have won the game with Eric Hinske’s home run in the eighth, only to head into Monday with elimination hanging over their heads. It was a terrible day for Conrad. And it was a terrible day to be a Braves fan, what with all their dreams for the refreshed organization and Cox’s sendoff.
Conrad wore every bit of it.
“I gotta play better than I’ve shown out there,” he said. “Like I said, I’m embarrassed.”
It wasn’t a great day in Spring Valley either, truth be told. But, Brooks will be OK. Aunt Linda is sure of it.
He’d called the house just a few days ago, matter of fact, just to say hey to Aunt Linda and the Grammies, to say he was holding up just fine and not to worry about him, that he’d see them soon, maybe, he said with a laugh, after the World Series.
“We’re really proud of you,” Aunt Linda shouted into the phone. “You’re really special to all of us.”
And then he hung up and went back to playing baseball, sure it would get better, sure he could make those plays and carry his weight and help them all win ballgames.
When he left the ballpark, he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, jangled a ring of keys in one of them, and promised to be back tomorrow. Whether he plays or not, they’ll be watching in Spring Valley.
“He’ll be OK because he’s strong,” Aunt Linda said. “He’s a strong person. I know that it hurt and he’s sensitive, too. I’m sure he’s down. But we’ll just keep praying for him.”
programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
Hatshepsut said:
I am so sorry to break this news to you. It's not that we need a brain.
"We" ARE that part of brain activity. That is what we are.
And thanks for the charlierose link.
I will read it when I have more time later this week.
Hatshepsut
Crusader
programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
You could provide some YouTube links or I could look them up myself.
Which would you prefer?
Share what you have. That would be nice.
programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
Hatshepsut,
Some info on this
Neurons-How they work-Human Brain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjxJabpjDGo&feature=related
The Miracle in Human Brain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZ3401XVYww
Some info on this
Neurons-How they work-Human Brain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjxJabpjDGo&feature=related
The Miracle in Human Brain
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZ3401XVYww
Well there have been some pretty good answers to that on this board since this ,orning when I saw it last. As with most of the other guys I too don't quite know what it is. So we can all be agreed on that.
But he seems to be some sort of a 5th Dynamic fella who reckons he looks after the body and makes the heart beat and glands work and so on. I'm not entirely sure that he really does all of this; I suspect that maybe he is just pretending to. Or maybe he is driving the show as a manager. Or maybe not.
However, there is a little fella there who reckons he does all of this, he (or she) can be communicated with, can be audited, has a time track, etc. Sometimes in Dianetic auditing the preclear will find an E/S incidenty and after running it declare that it was not his incident but the GE's.
But the growth and function activities of the body are all very programmed and mechanical. Or electro-chemical, or whatever. There is precious little sciope left for any self-determinism by any fella who reckons he runs it all himself. He would be nearly absolutley other-determined by all of the built-in programming. And when you communicate with the fella who reckons he is it . . well, he doesn't seem to be that low-toned. I mean he can respond to comm in a more or less sensible way. So I think maybe he just likes to pretend a bit.
But that then leaves the question open of how all the body-management handbook info is stored and transmitted. DNA is the popular answer at present - has been for a while. But don't think it is an adequate answer. It just doesn't feel right to me. So I leave it open.
Hatshepsut
Crusader
The link to these vids was in my first post to you above.
http://www.charlierose.com/view/inte...4?sponsor_id=1
Click on 'collections' and hit Brain Series.....TOP MIDDLE OF WEBSITE for Charlie Rose
I am checking out your YT vids.
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programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
There is NO "genetic entity" other than what comes up in SCN auditing in imaginations. (One can imagine ANYTHING.)
However, I do believe that the human brain has some workings that are not in our conscience mind. (This has nothing to do with Dianetics nor Scientology.)
programmer_guy
True Ex-Scientologist
Leon said:
It's all information stored in one way or another.
It never feels "right" (feeling in the comfort zone).
But I would rather stick to on-going scientific research than any ancient spiritual beliefs or Scientology crap.
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