That’s That
That’s That
Incessant regurgitation of the past into an endless loop of rumination about things that can never be changed, leading to stagnation of the body, heart, spirit, and mind—eventually becoming deranged.
According to nefarious disinformation, the past cannot be changed, when in fact, this is a massive pile of baloney, a gross misnomer at best.
All things are interconnected—*\(^o^)/*—when one element is neglected, dropping out of synchronicity means failing a consequential test—homeostasis—the unifying symbol of a complete existence.
Any past event in need of urgent emotional care gets an intentional reframe—rearrange the vibration of the mush between your ears, also known as the noggin—transmute the mind, and voila, the past has instantaneously been reframed.
The tired old narrative, making you miserable by depleting your agency, spreads ill will, as an incessant impish voice agitates you into stressful anxiety, in essence, stealing the future—every single day.
The ugliness embedded inside negative self-constructed narratives is replete with lies and deceit of the most extraordinarily unpleasant kind—for it is when we are most vulnerable that internal imps begin to administer mind control—the inner voice stoking internal discontent, which is fundamentally self-directed harm—consider this treason, and it must be disarmed.
Here is the protocol for when a trouble-making internal imp rears its ugly head.
Say hi, then goodbye, banishing it to the archives of your personal Hardcore History forever and a day.
Deflate and decimate this materialistic ego, depriving it of any agency over the vast past of life episodes with a death-grip still on your soul.
It is in the courageous act of facing the cold, hard facts—the past is but an ephemeral dream—events of a lifetime evaporating like a wispy puff of transitory steam.
As a semi-autonomous avatar in this exceptional game—the mental prison of being trapped in the past—escaping it is the crux of the mentalist’s game.
Continuing to dwell inside the dank caverns of past transgressions is like a torture chamber of sorts—a life sentence of permanent stagnation, reflecting the personal failure to reach the next stage of life’s game—trapped in the past forever, never to emerge or become whole again.
There is serenity in finality, and this is where the healing protocol comes into being—once a decision has been made, there is never a reason to doubt yourself or revisit it again—unless, of course, you need to reframe, and then it’s A-okay—nothing is real anyway.
The “that’s that” protocol is an extremely empowering potential that can only come from within.
This mysterious ability is not for sale—you cannot buy it or acquire it elsewhere.
It must come as a final resolve to see which way the winds are a blowin’, leading to the next stage of this phantasmagorical ride inside the nooks and crannies of the evolving human condition from which humanity can no longer hide.
This cannot be said much bolder or with more certainty—reframe the past to make it a personal servant at long last—this magic is available to all seeking release from the Shackles of the Past—100% money-back guarantee that this pure mental exercise leads to eternal relief for the rest of this material life.
Once and for all, it’s always a personal call—the final decision has been made—no longer look back—this most useful hack is to finish off the past.
One phrase to say—you will no longer play the inexhaustible game of being trapped in the past—from this time hence you will always be able to declare with an air of ultimate finality—that’s that.
The fundamental notion of going with the flow, emboldened by a curious nature, created a life of exploration—facing the perplexing mysteries hidden inside the nooks and crannies of the ancient civilization of Yamato—a coincidental journey—
The evolution of this novel technology was breathtakingly quick with the introduction of the World Wide Web for the common plebs—deep gratitude to the visionary 
The cost of international telecommunication dropped like a rock, and with the advent of high bandwidth, overseas dialing became basically free.
The ennui of solitude was suddenly alleviated when 
Sharing skills, know-how, and capabilities between 
For this micro-plot—zoom out for a full, objective perspective—the Imperial Palace of Japan was valued at more than the beautiful state of California in its entirety—what could possibly go wrong ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ 
The overall lack of social services in general makes facing addiction here a very lonely place, living in the wetlands of the nation of Japan inside emerging 
Is alcoholism a hereditary trait or cultural?
By default, as an initiation into the 
As draconian as this may seem, the Ministry of Justice-controlled Japanese resident card had a mandatory fingerprint for all foreigners, regardless of origin, race, creed, color, or age.
A spectacular sight to behold in the industrialized world of cut-throat competition is the observation of rabid patriotism—heavy chanting and incantation of the slogan of indoctrinated loyalists—
A change in the chemistry, a shift of the vibration of each of our ‘
The curmudgeon of an old Anglican Occidental tradition and his dimwitted wife were the 
One fine morning, on a daily routine, a quick car ride to the bank initiated this surreal scene—life spent in the subpar category of lesser human beings—killed on the spot by a drunk driver—smeared onto Highway 97B at 11:30 in the morning, never to be heard from again, nor seen.
This is where the full realization about the majority of government employees and their backhanded machinations radiated like an LCD (liquid crystal display).
Hop, skip, and jump, to the 
Things escalate quickly, as there is only one 
Following the sun leads to really weird places—’drug research laboratory’—by virtue of more serendipity, and the need to feed the family, becoming an incidental scientist was the way 
The beauty of 
Clear away the cacophony of endless self-chatter and face reality—each humanoid avatar is accompanied by individual guiding spirits, now identified as ‘
It is not what you know, but who you know; an open secret to piles of dough—consider it a well-established protocol in what used to be hallowed halls, now reduced to stupifaction indoctrination centers, the lowest of the low.
Instantaneously, the molecule trader instincts kicked in, quickly developing curiosity about these emerging health and welfare technological trends, along with the desire to be a catalyst for the continuing health and longevity of a vibrant neo-community of 
The second grave disappointment and new 
The last act in this egregious, shameful Harvardtard theater is the malady of stagnation and politicization of such a highly regarded academic institution—an utterly unforgivable protocol that couches itself as a center of ‘higher learning with a moral code.’
Regeneration of the way of matriculation—the neo-prototype phase of the reconstitution of education, with unprecedented paradigm shifting, is now complete and on its way.
Recent Comments