“The word ‘apocalypse’ comes from the Greek word apokálypsis, which is made up of the prefix apo- and the root kalýptein. Apo- means ‘away from’ or ‘off,’ and kalýptein means ‘to cover’ or ‘to hide’. Together, they mean ‘to uncover’ or ‘to reveal’.”
Thank you AI or Aiee as I like to pronounce it, like an ancient Comanche victory yell.
Another offering states, “Originating in late 14 century from Church Latin, apocalypsis and Greek apokalyptein, “apocalypse” means revelation or disclosure, literally “to uncover or reveal.” Aiee!
To reveal what? Exactly. That humankind has veered off the path of being human and needs to discover being human again? Just a guess. Needs to shut it down and take a break, discover, rebuild, take the ideas that work and make them better, take the ideas that don’t work and discard them? Something like that maybe?
We’ve been cyborgized and brain washed and conditioned and educated into believing that the way we live now is the only way to live. Serving the master basically, the boss, the corporation, the computer, the stock market, that bloodless, lifeless entity that has been given personhood and called the economy.
After the apocalypse we’ll be paying for cappuccinos with magic stones and a story, a seed that holds a whole tree, a magic leaf that reminds you to be kind. After the apocalypse we’ll see things more clearly. We’ll understand about being human. That it’s more than this. We won’t sell our soul for a dollar. We’ll know freedom and truth are real, not political memes. We will discover ourselves.
Major discovery. Something to behold. A revelation indeed. We are semi-divine. Born from the angels of desire and put in this world to know love and the longing for love. To know bliss, as the old bards put it, the old ones who knew of these things whether they were from Uruk of the ancient Sumer Culture or the old Indus Valley Harappan Culture or a 10,000 year old shaman from Central Texas. They knew what we have forgotten.
I’ll probly get tagged for using this song. Oh well. Sue me. Music is not a commodity. Neither is poetry. Neither is property. Not everything can be bought and sold. What do you think, every baby is born with a price tag? No, just a baby. Naked. Helpless. Wanting to feel love.
If you’d like to support the rohn report please become a paid subscriber
or offer a one time donation.
