Midnight Radio Sychronistic Instruction Received

The midnight radio is a frequency apart from, and broadcast through, ordinary reality from the depths of the nocturnal side. It comes from the place of dreams but speaks directly to conscious thought with perfect, unmistakable clarity, given that one has done the tuning to its frequency. For this there is no method, merely the practice of intent and attention. It is not dependent upon time of day, but rather gains its name from the nature of the practice of this sort of orientation. It is a message from spirit, the subconscious, the numinous, manifest, if one is very attentive, to the daytime mind. A question is asked and directly answered by means of omen-ous reply often co-incidentally across mundane and non-mundane media such that a message of arrow-precision pierces the accumulated thought-clutter of confusion surrounding the matter. How to the midnight radio works is, again, not directly explicable, but the messages are clarity themselves. There is a sense of the sublime in their strange precision that separates them from the cavalcade of noise, which is the only real mode of reception. In other words, the reception of such a message is recognized by the quality of a feeling that pervades the moment. The midnight radio employs every part of the living universe as media, the uncanny twang in the nervous system being the receiver set to the proper channel which converts the imperceptible signal to the observer, whose physical apparatus is the device of reception. Obviously, this is simplicity itself and complexity as well.

Instruction received in the temporary digs of the Walla Walla Wickidity Works are an answer to a long-pondered dilemma. A single thought was answered with several co-occurring events which put an end a long mind-tangling dilemma. To study omens is an ambiguous practice with a good deal of tuning to nothing there, but when it answers the practice is revealed to be critical.

These messages are too often ignored because the logical mind can't allow them. The very possibility destroys the tyranny of reason, forcing it to acknowledge a paradigm that it can't analyze and thereby control. Poor reason has become a hothouse flower in a world where it has no competition, no existential threat. It's a big baby, reason, but its fears are unfounded. It's also the narcissist that cedes willingly no control, having become accustomed to always having its way. This is merely to say that finding the midnight radio frequency and honing to it is a difficult task, but it is immensely worthwhile. This is the voice of poetry in the universe and it speaks with majestic beauty.

This is a strange and glorious place in which we reside. Pay attention to co-incidence of completely novel flavor. Notice and heed. The tingle in the spine won't bear up to the scalpel of reason, but that blade can't touch it, either.