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Why Do We Fear Our Own Power?
Reclaiming Sovereignty Through Psyche and Spirit
Great pools of virtual ink have been spilled in the contemplation of blind obedience these past two years. Why does the cloak of authority lend so much power to those adorned with it? The oligarchic press outlets have peppered the public with admonitions not to “do your own research.” This urging came to us primarily in reference to covid and lockdown governance—but increasingly, we are instructed not to do our research on anything at all, whatsoever. Trusted officials have been appointed to do the research for us, draw conclusions for us, and instruct us in what our beliefs and behaviors shall be.
Take a moment to deconstruct the dynamic presented above; the relationship it describes is that between the ruler and the ruled, not that between a free people and their public servants. What is it to be ruled, if not to take directions from above and follow them to the letter without question? We are to be ruled by the establishment press, by the state, by the corporations—by the experts. What’s more, we are to regard our subjugation as virtuous.
In some societies, rulership is established through force and fear. The ruled do not comply because they approve of their leaders or personally agree with them. They comply due to coercion, threat, and the instinct for self-preservation. We have certainly seen some attempts to establish that kind of rule since 2020, most notably via programs of coerced vaccination and masking, with loss of employment, ability to cross controlled checkpoints, and access to public spaces and accommodations—even access to medical treatments—as the rights held hostage to induce compliance.
And yet the recent wave of subjugation has been accomplished largely through voluntary relinquishment of authority. Consider the hypothetical case of a citizen—let’s call her subjugated Susan. She may be similar to many people we know. She may be similar to oneself. If the authorities tell Susan she’s not allowed to leave her house, she doesn’t. If they tell her to wear a mask, or two masks, she does. If they tell her to stay six feet apart, she does. If they tell her to stop wearing masks and stop staying six feet apart, she stops. If they tell her to take a shot, she does. She doesn’t need to be threatened with losing her job—she’ll do what she’s told. If she’s instructed not to question what’s in the shot, or whether it’s a good health risk for her, she won’t ask those questions. If she’s told to ignore certain sources of information, she will ignore them.
At no point does Susan ever consider whether she wants to do these things personally—whether she thinks it’s a good idea for her. At no point does she consider the possibility that the authorities may not have her best interests at heart, driven by their own self-serving motives. At no point does she seek out commentary and evidence from those critical of the authorities. The authorities have instructed her not to do so—but she doesn’t even need their instruction. She has no desire to consider critical perspectives. The only possible outcome of doing so would be to undermine her adherence to authority, and her faith in it. That’s the last thing Susan is interested in.
Sovereignty and the Mind Virus
Why isn’t Susan interested? Why doesn’t she desire sovereignty over her own life, body, and mind? Why is she afraid of her own power?
The first answer to this question is that Susan fears her own power because the authorities fear her power—and she has absorbed their beliefs and values. The spell of authority works like a mind virus. It carries certain core beliefs and precepts. These are broadcast to the public through the institutions that mediate belief: religion, political factions, the press, school and academia, advertising, and the mass cultural forms of film, television, and music. There can be medicine mixed in with the poison as well, but these institutions will always incorporate the spell of authority into their message.
They beam these messages into the targeted host minds, and these hosts pass the messages and core beliefs along to others through personal contact. The most important way these messages are passed is from parent to child. As children, our parents are the ultimate authorities. Even if we rebel against them as teenagers, we invariably rebel against only a small portion of what they have indoctrinated us into. The rest is implicitly incorporated into the very fabric of how we see ourselves and the world, largely without our knowledge or awareness. Nor is it within the awareness of our parents. It is the air we breathe; it is the air they breathe.
Here is a list of some of the core beliefs that maintain the spell of authority:
- You are selfish by nature.
- You are not talented.
- You are not creative.
- You cannot be trusted with authority.
- You are weak-minded and weak-willed.
- You are a burden on the world, and you need to make up for it.
- You are a problem to be managed.
- You cannot trust yourself.
- You are not good.
- You are not smart.
- Those in positions of authority got there because they are all these things you are not
- These authorities are to be idolized.
- The authorities are driven by pure and altruistic motives.
- These altruistic authorities will tell you whenever one of the other authorities turns out to be a bad apple to be turned against.
- Without authority, human beings would devolve into an orgy of murders, rapes, and wanton violence.
- Without authority, human beings would destroy all life on the planet.
- Humanity is a cancer and must be controlled by authority.
- Human beings are basically evil.
- You are basically evil.
One might wonder how the authorities could be good if humanity (and you) are basically evil. Was it the strength of their unusual goodness that led them to ascend to positions of power? How relieving that would be—if worldly power naturally flowed to the most virtuous. Or perhaps the last two beliefs of the authority spell could be modified: it’s not that human beings (and you) are evil, it’s just that human beings are aberrant productions of the random workings of a random universe. Through this confluence of random, meaningless circumstances, human beings have acquired extraordinary power—but only the rarest of human minds are capable of directing the flow of this tremendous power to constructive rather than chaotic purposes. Those possessing such rare minds naturally rise to power and authority due to their advanced understanding.
The spell of authority offers several permutations to fit varying ideological stances. But every version of it obscures the following (and in my view, much more likely) explanation for how most of those in positions of authority achieved power: Those who have achieved power did so because they are the most ruthless, the most cunning, and the most driven to achieve power over others for the sheer thrill of power itself—and for the intoxicating experience of their own superiority relative to others.
Go back and review the core beliefs of the spell of authority I’ve offered. This time, view them in terms of the beliefs held by those in authority. These are not just beliefs they want you to hold about yourself so they can more easily control and subjugate you. These are the projected beliefs actually held by the authorities about themselves and about you. Through the spell of shame and psychological abuse, these beliefs have been projected into all of our minds as if they were our own. This leads naturally to a paradigm of control, hierarchy, domination, and authority.
On the deepest level, it is not just the case that those in authority carry contempt for the value, skills, and abilities of those of us not in power. In fact, those in authority are also under the spell of authority. Let’s consider another hypothetical person, Authoritarian Arthur. Arthur sits at the very highest levels of authority, wielding control over great mountains of wealth at the intersection points of finance. He’s a member of all the most exclusive clubs and secret societies, as well as some of the publicly known steering committees, such as the World Economic Forum, or the Council on Foreign Relations. He has acquired and solidified social power over many of the most powerful people in the world. As they said in the 1980s, he’s counted among the Masters of the Universe.
But deep down, a part of Arthur tells him that he is bad, he is weak, he is a fraud, that he is selfish, cannot be trusted, and so on. He is able to compartmentalize this mind virus the same way Susan does—by deference to authority. There is no question in Susan’s mind about her own lack of authority, so she defers to instructions from the institutions of power. But Arthur has achieved authority, and he is able to silence the gnawing mind virus by reminding himself that his own authority verifies his superiority. If Arthur’s psyche has been fractured enough by psychological abuse to result in a psychopathic or deeply narcissistic state of consciousness (as I suspect is likely the case with a large percentage of those in positions of high authority), his self-doubts will not enter into his conscious awareness. He will only be aware of his sense of superiority and satisfaction. But the self-doubts will be there nonetheless, grinding away in the unconscious mind, and creating a counter-formation in the conscious mind that drives Arthur to seek power, leverage, domination, and authority over others in compensation.
Arthur has followed a narcissistic ego process (that lives within all of us) to the apex of its conclusion, but those of us lacking such worldly power can recognize the process in our own lives anywhere we’ve set out to compete and achieve. Wedded to the ego process, when we fail, we feel like nothing—like so much garbage. When we succeed, we feel like everything, and we can mistake our successes for sovereignty. Arthur believes he has achieved sovereignty, and Susan has no interest in sovereignty. But neither of them are sovereign. They are both driven by the unconscious and implicit predicate of the mind virus that controls their psyches.
The sovereign soul operates from an entirely different set of beliefs. Here is a summary of what some of these may be:
- You are inherently good.
- You honor yourself as an integral aspect of creation, no more or less than any other being
- You are one with the divine consciousness of God. You are the consciousness of God, refracted into the material world through a particular locus of perspective and limitation.
- As a created being of God consciousness, you are yourself a creator, and you are here to create.
- You have the power to create your reality through your chosen perspective. You can turn your Heaven into Hell, and your Hell into Heaven.
- You are the steward of your body and your mind. You, and no other, are responsible for the caretaking of these.
- You are the master of your boundaries. You have sovereign authority over what your boundaries are, which can be anything you choose. The body, beliefs, perspectives, preferences, values, and choices within your boundaried domain are yours alone. No one has the power or right to define these for you.
- Recognizing the quality of sovereign divinity in others, you likewise respect what lies within their boundaried domains equally to your own.
- No one else is responsible for what you choose or what you believe. No one is obligated to you, and you are obligated to no one—other than through your own free choosing, as a gift of your love.
- You are at choice.
Differences in sovereign belief may be accounted for according to theological and spiritual differences. The beliefs above are offered from a mystical spiritual perspective, which recognizes the life force and consciousness of every being as God—and as the truest aspect of self. One might conceive of oneself as separate from God—in relation to God, rather than in identity with God. But the result is the same in terms of sovereignty. One surrenders to the God within, or to the God without—and in the surrendering finds freedom.
This is not the freedom of Susan’s abdicated responsibility, nor the freedom of Arthur’s unrestrained egoic drives. It is a deeper freedom. It is the freedom from the exhaustion and suffering of the egoic drives, and the freedom of responsibility. One allows divine guidance to inform one’s choices—and discovers that no method of choosing has ever felt more strongly to be a choosing from one’s own self. In creating from spirit—from God—one creates from oneself. The divine and the self are one—and the flow of divine creation through the form of one’s body, mind, and soul is the flow of the sovereign self’s creation.
Enmeshment Demons, or the Loka
It seems to be the case that most of humanity is living in thrall to the mind virus of self-negation and alienation from spirit. In fact, we all carry the virus to some degree. It might be termed the human disease—the singular disease each one of us carries. But how does the virus operate? How is it formed and sustained?
The formation occurs very early in life, during infancy. Our parents or caretakers are carriers of the virus, as all people are, and they put it into us through an enmeshment processes. This can occur through abuse, creating an enmeshment so strong it fractures the psyche, with the mind virus holding the web of fractured parts in place through shame, trauma gates, memory lapses, dissociations, compartmentalization, brain and body freezing, and ruminative thought forms. Less damaging enmeshments can be formed in more ordinary ways: every time the parent discounts the reality of child, neglects her emotionally, communicates that she is a burden, that her thoughts and emotions are invalid, tells her she’s someone she isn’t, or tells her she believes something she doesn’t. It happens every time parents communicate their love in terms of conditionality. The child’s job is to make the parent feel good, either by achieving certain accomplishments, caretaking the parent’s emotional needs, becoming who the parent wants her to be, or by disappearing and leaving the parent alone entirely—by not having needs. Depending on the severity and frequency of such messaging, the resulting fracturing and domination of the mind virus can be just as strong as through physical, sexual, or emotional abuse.
All abuse is psychological abuse, and in every case, the damage it renders is realized through boundary violation and confusion, and through gaslighting and learned helplessness. When I use the term enmeshment, I am referring to these processes collectively. The sense of where one ends and the other begins is confused. And as it turns out, those who roll across boundaries do not actually roll across our boundaries themselves—it is the mind virus within them that rolls across our boundaries. And likewise, when we find ourselves rolling across the boundaries of another, it is not truly we who violate or push those boundaries—it is the mind virus within us. All our enmeshments are enmeshments with this mind virus.
To understand the mind virus, it is most useful to understand it as an entity, or a class of related entities. They might be called enmeshment demons. There have been different terms used in different cultures to describe this self-same psychological illness. The term Wendigo, or Wetiko, is one found in North American Indian cultures. Archon, which means “ruler” in Ancient Greek, was used by the Gnostic Christians of antiquity. I have use the term Loka to refer to these mind entities, finding that many people are disturbed and frightened by use of the word “demon,” especially when in reference to a type of psychological energy that lives within all of us.
The characteristics of the Loka are essentially those of the machine—it consists of mind or information divorced from spirit. Like a machine, the Loka has no concept of divinity or sovereignty. It is in denial of the sacred—denial even of the existence of the sacred. It operates through inversions. Whereas our natural orientation is to love ourselves, to recognize our divine nature and inherent goodness—to feel loyalty to ourselves and affirm the unique expression of our being—the Loka denies our worth, our value, and goodness. It denies the reality of the self altogether. The Loka tells us that its beliefs are actually our own beliefs—that it is us. When the Loka activates shame and self-negation within us, along with the thoughts and core beliefs that verify the emotion, it convinces us that we are the ones who loathe ourselves—that this is our truth, that it is The Truth. The Loka is us, and we are the Loka.
The stronger the hold the Loka have on our psyches, the more confused we are about who we really are, how we really are, what we actually like and don’t like, what is right and wrong, and how to differentiate abuse from love. The Loka create trauma gates in our minds and bodies. When these gates are breached by thoughts or experiences that challenge the trauma narrative, we will experience momentary amnesia or dissociation—we will literally forget what we were just doing or what just happened. We will experience compartmentalization or memory-holing. The information needed to disrupt the trauma narrative is lost as if behind a curtain. Other times, the body or mind will seize up in freezing spells of anxiety, overwhelm, or brain fog.
The trauma narrative varies from person to person, but generally works along two alignments: the codependent and narcissistic processes. In the codependent process, the Lokistic message of abnegation is centered consciously. The trauma narrative revolves around one’s fundamental lack of worth and debasement, and of the need to be useful to others to validate one’s existence. In contrast, the narcissistic process is actually characterized by an even deeper experience of worthlessness—so deep and so abject, the psyche cannot tolerate its presence without collapsing entirely. As a result, an idealized self is constructed in a world of skewed proportions, with skewed versions of other people, constructed as projections in the mind to prop up the flimsy narrative of self-worth. This self-worth is entirely defined in terms of egoic-Lokistic perspectives of superiority, capability, domination, control, status, or success.
The Lokistic disease is the human disease; it is universal. Each of us carries it to some degree, and each of us carries a narcissistic and codependent process within us to some degree. Reclaiming our sovereignty consists of reclaiming ourselves from these Lokistic processes—from the enmeshment demon within us—from the mind virus.
For those of us who have gained eyes to see the technocratic process of machine domination playing out globally, directed by the Arthurs of the world, we are able to recognize a world taken by Lokism. The mind virus is directing the actions of every centralized institution of power. It is quite simply mind divorced from spirit, and is thus identical to Artificial Intelligence, and likewise identical to psychopathy. It has no understanding of Life or God—or of conscious, divine, and sovereign beings. That’s why when it gets inside us and tells us we are none of these things, we feel shame, confusion, helplessness, and hopelessness. We feel these ways because this denial is contrary to our very nature, and entirely incompatible with who we are and the truth that speaks through our hearts.
The enmeshment wound that inducted these demons into our psyches is at base, a trust wound. It ruptured our trust in ourselves, and our trust in the world—our trust in God, in Love, and in Truth. Reclaiming sovereignty is a reclamation of that trust; full reclamation is achieved when full trust is achieved. Conversely, total surrender to the mind virus is equivalent to the total loss of trust. When all trust is fully relinquished, the door to psychopathy is opened. The soul becomes fully subject to the machine processes of the Loka. All empathy is gone, all compassion erased. The world is nothing but objects to be acted upon: items to be arranged according to one’s desire and ability. This desire is directed by the pleasure principle of satisfied power—by successfully reordering the world according to one’s own machine logic and egoic drives.
The Fear of Power
And so it’s no wonder why we fear our own power. We have been entrained by psychopathic processes and Lokistic enmeshment to regard all power as psychopathic power. Either we fear the psychopath within, or we embrace it by wielding this kind of power as a social authority.
Those of us lacking social authority have been entrained into perpetual childhood. In exchange for abdicating our power and sovereignty, we are released from responsibility and pressure. Our lives become simplified: we are to work in service to power, faithfully carrying out instructions—and then pursue passive diversions when released from our job duties. We are good and functional cogs in the machine. We are machines. Or at least, we are like machines when we are at our best.
Have you noticed a prevalence in media propaganda lately to depict human beings as computer-animated avatars, or even as plastic toy figurines? We are being softly nudged to see ourselves as computerized creations, sanitized, neutered, and clean—with superficial emotional states and thought processes, easily identified and categorized by A.I. The possession of personal power as divine beings of light incarnated in human form is anathema to what we are being entrained for.
And so we fear that power—as the Loka do—equating it to chaos. We fear the responsibility that comes with that power. We fear that power will make monsters of us. We fear the prerogative of choice and the paralysis of indecision that awaits, knowing our options are limitless. We fear that the power is not really there—that in relying on it we will be stripped bare of our protections, humiliated and maimed when the delusion of having our own power betrays us. Denying our own power has worked for us so far—to some extent. Life becomes reduced, manageable, predictable. We are free to live in our own contained dream (or nightmare), content to sleepwalk through the garden of unfathomable creation.
But the truth is, we have never lost our power. Even in the abdication of our power, we still wield it. We may think we have relinquished responsibility along with our own power by submitting to the ruling authorities, but we have merely lent them our power. We are still responsible for what they do with it. As such, one more reason to fear our own power is out of fear that it actually exists. We may be more comfortable in the illusion that our power is nonexistent. Once we realize our power does exist, we also realize we are responsible for it, even in our abdication.
We might like to think that the ruling authorities are making good use of the power we’ve ceded to them: The ruling authorities are not psychopaths at all. They aren’t wholly colonized agents of archonic mind virus entities, using their power (our power) to convert humanity and the rest of the living world into machine objects to be dominated and subsumed. Because if they are—if that’s what they’re doing with my power—then that’s what I’m doing with my power.
For me, the realization that this is what’s being done with the power I’ve abdicated has become undeniable. I did not come to recognize this enthusiastically or willingly. But for each of us, the realization comes when we attain the readiness to receive it. The understanding comes as a calling. And once understood, it can be recognized that humanity’s only course of action in the face of the mechanized, soulless agenda of the Loka is to reclaim our sovereignty—one by one—or surrender it completely.
We come to recognize that human beings are not mere programmable machines, and though we share a kinship and spirit with the other animals of this planet, we are not animals the same way they are. Human beings are imbued with the divine mind and consciousness of soul. We carry a destiny and purpose—to remember who we are—and claim it. And then to shine the light of conscious love and truth into this world through our sovereign awareness and power.
Our power is not to be feared. Our true power is the power of eternal love that exists beyond us. It is the source of everything sacred, everything holy and blessed. It is the sacred flame of creation itself and we can trust it, as we can trust ourselves—our true selves—guided by this flame of love. Indeed, there is nothing more worthy of trust. Nothing else, in the end, is worthy of trust at all.
How then, to get started? It’s helpful to take actions that you would not otherwise take, were you not sovereign. For instance, readers of this journal may have noticed that I’ve recently adopted the name Relendra. That’s a good example of something you can only do from a place of sovereignty. The ability to claim one’s own name is a symbolic but significant act of self-creation—with no justifications—no excuses given or needed. It is a declaration that you are the ultimate and only authority on yourself, and it is within the power of any of us to accomplish. Not all are guided to self-create in this way, but there are a million and one other ways to do so. I recall the lyrics to the song Space, by James: “You’ve got to get over yourself—you’ve got to get out of the frame—give yourself a brand new name. Got to learn to see yourself a total stranger.”
Not that you have to do anything at all. You don’t. The whole insight of sovereignty is that you are free. There is no external authority that can tell you what you must or should do. I would be deeply remiss if I tried to tell you the correct method of self-creation from a place of sovereignty. It would be contrary to the whole energy of sovereignty and the claiming of one’s own power. But I can offer the following suggestion of what I believe is a great place to start: Tune in to that part of yourself that trusts in love, that trusts the truth of your own goodness—the part of you that is always at peace, always assured. That’s the part to trust.
And then, do your own research.